Everything Is Vanity Under The Sun.

[Taylor]

It'd be nice if someone actually read this one. & I'd really enjoy criticism. Good or bad, if you do read this, just give me your honest opinion. I won't kill you if you don't like it.
But anyways, new story that I've tried to start tons of times but nothing ever sounded right.
I'm pretty content with this first part, for now.
I'm probably going to edit the living shit out of it.
But oh well.
It's kind of like the Vanity RP I used to post.
& I'm too lazy to format everything. With the italics & all that. I think you can figure out where some of them had to go. When I edit it, I'll add those in.

Natalie was certain that death was upon her.
The screeching noise of police sirens filled the illegal club, and the noise of feet running to the exit made her heart pound quicker than she ever thought possible. Quickly dressing, she decided that to flee would be impractical.
Who could possibly get out of this mess?
The cops had the guest list. They had the list of people on the bar tab. They had the list of people who had checked out rooms in the “motel” section of the club through-out the months.
She was on all three of those lists.
Her name in big bold print, her signature, and her house of residence.
All of that information now belonged to the big chief of police, and after skimming through it himself, he’d pass it on to the president. Mister big man on campus. President Andrew Deservick was the last person that Natalie wanted to be in possession of those three crucial pieces of information. He had her life in her hands, and she knew already he wouldn’t treat it well.
In about a week, nine days tops, Natalie would be sitting in front of the jury pleading her life. She wouldn’t bother the “It wasn’t me!” route, because they had all the evidence needed. What Natalie needed was a nice little sob story.
And if said Jury found her sad story to be lacking a certain “unf” needed to make them weep, or be truly guily about murdering the girl when the time came, well then Natalie would be executed that night.
Her companion that night shook her shoulder, and whispered something about getting out, but Natalie just waved him away.
“Save yourself, if you feel the need to. We’re going to die anyways.”
The man stared at her like she had just told him he had cancer, and wondered to himself what he ever saw in this woman, to ask her if she wanted to room with him. “I was drunk,” was all her could say before he slipped his shoes on and ran into the main part of the club, running with the crowd towards the exit.
Natalie stayed seated, she even let the door stay open a tad, to where the bottom half of her leg was visible if you were standing at the right angle. Her hands sat neatly in her lap, her head was held high, and she managed a tiny smile for the policemen. Maybe if they thought she was delusional they’d let her go easy.
Sure, it had never happened before, but why not try?
And then the running had stopped, Natalie heard grunts of protest from people who hadn’t run fast enough, she heard yelling from the bartender to ask if they had a warrant to search this place, and whining and crying from the cage dancers who couldn’t open their cages.
Even if they could, who were they kidding? None of them would bother to run.
Just as she was getting content with the thought of dying, she heard someone respond to Larry, the “tap” as everyone called him.
They didn’t have a warrant.
They had to leave. Couldn’t search the place. They wouldn’t find her.
Without thinking of what she was doing, Natalie sprung up from the dirty bed and walked out towards the scene. They were still collecting the men who were in handcuffs, but if someone was hiding in a room like her, they would be safe.
They had turned to leave. Didn’t even notice her as she continued to walk their way.
Larry, wide-eyed in shock, shaking his head; “What are you doing?” he mouthed.
Natalie shrugged, and continued walking.
She wanted death.
Death was better than this shit-hole town.
Death was better than her pathetic life.
Death was better than all of the nothings she had been offered in life.
And maybe in death she could live a little.
Maybe there was a Club Vanity in death, too.

[Fennec]

That was freaking BAZOOBS!! (Thats a good thng :D)

[Jenna]

Okay, first things first. I think it's amazing and you should continue.
Really, there's only one thing that I would change, and that's in the second sentence. It says "cop sirens" and I just think that maybe "police sirens" would work better. It sounds more official I guess. Just a suggestion though.

[Taylor]

Thank you both.
And Jenna, you're right. I really should learn to read stuff over before I post it. I'll edit that right now!

[Taylor]

When Natalie woke up the next morning a stone-cold jail cell, her neck and back aching from the lovely cot she was forced to sleep in, a horrible hangover pounding against her skull, her eyes not being able to focus, she realized that she had no recollection of last night.
No idea why she was in this shit-hole. No idea why she was wearing a tasteless orange jumpsuit that was twice her size, or why her shoes weren't on her feet, and the whole place smelled like a fucking litter box.
She sat up so she could sit on the edge of her bed, and that's when she noticed that the entire place was filled with familiar faces.
The cell across from her held Candace, the one who sold coke in a secluded area at the front of the club.
Damn, Candace was the best dealer.
That's all Natalie could say.
She was the best dealer.
What a shame.
The other people who supplied drugs, they did the homemade crap. They used substitutes, most of it wasn't real, and probably ten times as dangerous, but it got you high nonetheless, no matter if it took an hour longer or not.
Most of the other drug dealers smelled of this place; smelled of alcohol, and most of them were crazy. You could see it in their eyes. They always looked off in the distance.
Crazy eyes, crazy mind.
Natalie looked to the next cell.
This one held Daniel, he was one of the security guards. It sucked for them. They tried so hard to keep the place from being discovered by the police, and they were the first to get arrested.
If only they did their job.
There was no sympathy in her thoughts this time, because Natalie remembered a particular night when Daniel was a new guard, and he decided to be an ass to everyone.
When he thought goosing girls was funny.
When he thought slipping his numbers in their pants pocket was cute.
Natalie thought it deserved a slap.
She could never get into the clubs on the nights when he was working ever since then. She must've been lucky to get in that night, she couldn't even remember how.
Then again, she wasn't lucky at all. If she had just stayed home that night, she wouldn't be here. She'd be at work, and she'd be feeling great, and she'd have some mindless conversations with the policemen who now stared her down every time they passed her.
Her eyes scanned through the cells, some of the people had families. Had kids and spouses and siblings and even older parents who were on the verge of being senile to take care of.
And to think, they were going to die in a matter of hours.

She sat down on the cot too fast and intense pain shot through her ass, down her legs. She groaned, but didn't do anything to ease it. She might as well get used to it. Who knows what kind of torture they'd put here through?
This was, of course, President Deservick they were talking about.
No mercy.
That was for spineless wimps who were afraid of a little blood-shed, he said. That was for people who were too narrow-minded to see the good in executing the criminals of the world, he said. That was for the ones who thought it was "murder", he said. That was for the idiots, who were too weak to lay down the law, he said. It was for the ones who only stayed in office for two years, he said.
The bitch, the stupid bastard, he'd been in office for nearly sixteen years now.
He was practically a dictator.
No one dared to start a rebellion, hell, as far as Natalie knew, this club was the closest thing to a rebellion this country's ever seen. And it was probably going to be the last thing, once they give them the chair, or maybe they'll go the lethal injection route. Maybe they'll just take out the old guillotine.
Who knew with this guy.

Natalie stood up and walked to the rusty sink, turning it on. They hadn't given her a mirror, for probably obvious reasons. It could be used as a weapon if she broke it, blahblahblah, bullshit. Either way, she looked down at the slightly brown water, and shutting her eyes, filled her cupped hands with it. She was sure it would make her face more dirty, but she splashed it on there anyways. Needed to look presentable.
After all, the guard was walking by giving everyone their court dates.
Everyone so far, their's was set for today, in a few hours if Natalie had the time guessed correctly.
She nearly froze as he stepped in front of hers.
"Natalie Toblinson?" He called out.
She slowly walked over to the metal bars of her cell, frowning deeply. "Yeah."
"Your court dates set for ten a.m. Your family will bring you a set of clothes. Your attorney should be here in an hour, he'll tell you more when he arrives."
And with that, the guard walked off, his clipboard held tightly in his right arm, pinned to his side. And Natalie sunk down to the ground, finding it much more comfortable than the made-of-mother-fucking-steel cot.



I kind of wrote this quickly, but I'm content with it for now.
I still have to edit the first part, then I'll get to editing this. I'm sure there are mistakes. Criticism would be lovely.

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