Teenage Dirtbag Outfit の小説・ストーリー

He knew the sky would eventually fall. ​I stripped off the silk robe I was wearing, the expensive fabric feeling like a lie. I went to the closet and found a pair of black cargo pants and a heavy hoodie. I laced up my old combat boots, the ones with the scuffed toes and the history of a thousand miles of Brooklyn pavement. ​I was going back to the dirt.

“Of course you’re, I almost didn’t recognize you there.” I changed my whole appearance, letting my blonde hair grow out and I watched it turn lighter under the sun. I cleared out my wardrobe and only wear flannel shirts that smell like smoke and pine with denim instead of tailored slacks coupled with boots that are made for dirt so today, dressed in an oversized tee with dark wash jeans make me feel out of place.

I scrubbed my face with cold water, washing away the last remnants of yesterday’s smeared makeup, and brushed my teeth with a disposable toothbrush I found in the vanity drawer. I walked back into the bedroom and opened one of my trash bags. It was a pathetic sight—my entire life crammed into industrial plastic. I pulled out a pair of baggy, high waist blue jeans and a thick, cream colored knit sweater. The oversized clothes hid my plus-size frame well.. offering a small sense of armor against the world outside this door.

“Don’t speak as if you know everything about me, Miss Watson.” He turned slowly, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. “I’m giving you twenty minutes to get yourself together. Those are what you’re wearing,” he said, pointing at the paper bags I had only just noticed on the bed. I clenched my fists but said nothing. I didn’t have the strength—or the power—to argue. So I moved. Inside the bags were simple clothes: An oversized T-shirt. Jogger pants. A baseball cap. Dark sunglasses. An outfit fit for a fugitive.

If there really are rogues out there. The clothes are rough, unwashed, but I grab the least offensive ones—a t-shirt, hoodie, and joggers. They’re too big, but I roll the waistband and cinch it tight with a belt. The smell is unpleasant, but it masks my scent. That alone is a small blessing. I grab one more t-shirt stuffing it into the bag, once the air drops in the night I will want all the layers I can get. My heart hammers as I work. One step at a time. I shove a worn throw blanket into the bag and head downstairs, keeping my movements as quiet as possible.

"This, darlin', is the outskirts of Forest Hills. And if you're a good girl, you'll get to call yourself my woman." His grimy, off-white T-shirt clung to his muscles as if he painted it on. His jeans were dirty and encrusted with mud. His bulky boots sloshed through the sludge, leaving deep prints in the ground. He wasn't butt-ugly by any means. A nut-job maybe.

I just hope there were good clothes inside. I opened it and got my first dose of disappointment. It belonged to a guy. There wasn't much in the bag. Cargo pants, shorts, condoms, pills, more condoms, and a child's doll. What type of weirdo owned this bag? The second disappointment came when I had a whiff of the clothes. They smelled like ass. I was about to toss the bag in anger when common sense urged me to rescue the cargo pants first. So I did. I tried it on and it fit perfectly regardless of my massive ass and hips. I sighed in relief.

I try to crack a joke at the morbid atmosphere surrounding us, but that only seemed to piss him off more. “Do you want something other to wear than those dirty cloths you are wearing now?” Wow. Could he have been nicer about it? “Let me tell you something!” I point my finger at him as I slowly close in on him. “I have been kidnapped and kidnappers don’t usually let you pack a suitcase before taking you against your will. I have almost been killed the one time I almost… ALMOST got my clothing. I have been stuck with a man twice… or maybe three times my size who’s clothing doesn’t really fit me and for your information.” I take a deep breathe. “I have been washing me clothes every time you lea

Rogues stunk like a sewer. The fabric was a red and black plaid pattern. I could not tell if it was from a male or female, but it possibly had some evidence. I snapped a picture of the fabric before I grabbed another bag from my pocket and pulled the fabric away from the tree with it before I sealed it up.