Unsung Heroes

Chapter One: Why Me?

I sat quietly at the foot of my bed, staring down at the screen of my phone. I couldn’t get passed the image that stared up at me. It was a picture of my “best friend”, Maya, kissing who I guess was my now ex-boyfriend, Mitch. They seemed to be really drunk in our favorite bar that we’d hang out in after work on Fridays. The image had been sent by my friend, Angel, about ten minutes ago with the caption: “I saw this and had to show you. I’m sorry, Indy, but they’ve been doing this for a couple of months. Maya threatened to hurt me if I told you but I can’t take it anymore. Don’t be sad, they’re not worth it.”
Oh, how wrong you were, Angel. They were worth it. He was worth it. He was everything to me and my first love. I trusted him with my deepest, darkest secrets, and I thought he trusted me with his. Who knows if what he was saying was even true or not. I don’t know, and I don’t know how I am even supposed to feel or react. Should I lash out? Should I seek revenge on them? Should I even care at this point if Mitch didn’t even care enough about me to stay faithful? I sighed bitterly through my heavily painted lips and dropped my phone on the ground, where it landed with a dull thud on the dirty shag carpet. I stood up slowly, feeling the bones in my lower back and legs creak as I did. I walked into the bathroom conjoined to my room to stare at myself in the mirror.What was so wrong with me that made Mitch want to fucking cheat on me? We’d been together since senior year of high school five damn years ago. I stared at my reflection. Was it how I looked? I had very short hair – it was almost buzzed on the sides – and I had a thick fringe on top that I was constantly dying different colors. Right now, it’s a very dark shade of violet. My eyes, staring at me through thick tears and puffy lids stained with black eyeliner and black eye shadow, were deep green. Mitch used to tell me that he could get lost in my eyes they were so mesmerizing. My body was slim, even though I have thick curves. I have DD breasts and wide hips and an ass so big my body could be described as a large hourglass. I had long legs that were toned from working out and skin dark from being in California and my natural heritage. My whole body was pretty tan, actually, partially from sun and partially from being Brazilian. My parents moved from Rio to California right before I was born so that I could be a naturalized citizen and have a better life in LA than they could provide in Rio – Rio is still nice but not as safe as the States. They died when I was six and I lived with my grandparents in Rio until I was old enough to move to America and live on my own – which was actually sixteen since I emancipated myself from my controlling, bitchy grandparents – and started high school in Los Angeles when I was sixteen.
I was wearing a black V-neck top and black ripped skinny jeans. You could just make out my tattoos through the material of my shirt – two songbirds for my parents, the symbol from the band Black Veil Brides – my favorite band – some of my favorite quotes, and black roses and irises and ivy trailing up my spine to the base of my neck. I have size zero gauges in my lobes, and multiple piercings through my cartilages including an industrial bar in my ear and I have a stud in my right nostril and a hoop through my bottom lip on the left.
Was I too different from Mitch? I’m sort of punk rock mixed with biker and goth and heavy metal rocker. Mitch is more of a biker. He doesn’t have tats or piercings. His hair was short and dyed blonde. He always wore a leather jacket and biker pants. I had a leather jacket I wore a lot, too, but… Was I too much of a freak?
I sighed shakily through my teeth. I had been called a freak most of my life. My only friends in school were Angel and Maya. Well, I guess Maya no longer counts but still. They were the only ones like me in the way they dressed and the way they acted and the way that they thought. Everyone else thought I was a Satanist and that I would break down and start cutting myself at the slightest insult... promting them to through as many my way as possible.
Angel was too nice for her own good, and was the most loyal friend I could have ever hoped for. Maya was a little bit of a whore, but nothing I could judge her against: I was too fucking jealous to care. I was a virgin all through high school, and the thought of sex honestly scared me so bad that the few times I tried with Mitch, it would never go through as I would have a panic attack during foreplay. Mitch said he didn’t care, but I could tell it bothered him. When I moved from Rio, I spoke little English, but I could understand it just fine. I knew when someone was making fun of me. It was obvious in their body language and the fact that they would stare at me wouldn’t help any, either.
I brushed a few stray tears from my face before they could ruin my makeup and turned and rushed from the bathroom. I was starting to become claustrophobic and needed to get out before I had another panic attack. I scooped my phone from the ground and stuffed it into my back pocket. Grabbing my bag (it’s a small purse for my wallet and the occasional makeup, okay? I don’t carry that much shit around) and my keys, I slipped my feet into my combat boots and grabbed my leather jacket. I picked up my helmet before leaving my apartment and locking my door.I quickly moved downstairs and out the door onto the sidewalk. My bik
(a black Harley lowrider Mitch gave me for my 21st birthday. I’m not gonna get rid of it, it’s too fucking expensive and too fucking nice to give up) was right where I left it last night. I moved to it quickly, slipping on my helmet and putting my bag into the small locked case in the back of the bike. I practically leapt onto the seat and unlocked it, started it up, and quickly moved down the street, away from my suffocating apartment.

I don't know how long i rode for, all I know is that every time I slowed down, my heart would start racing again and I had to keep going. My phone buzzed in my pocket several times while I was riding, but I was too scared to see who it was that was calling/texting me.
I eventually had to stop and I pulled into the parking lot of a coffee shop about ten miles from my apartment. I parked my bike next to three others in the lot and slipped off, taking my helmet off and pulling my bag from the case.
"Hey, you!"
I turned to see some overweight guy who looked like a Hell's Angel strolling towards me.
"Yes?" I said quietly as to not cause a scene.
"You can't park your prissy little bike here, bitch. Only real bikers can park here!" He puffed out his chest like he was proud of his statement.
I raised a waxed eyebrow at him. "Is that so?" I was too fucking done to care about this right now. I needed the tallest expresso I could get now before I beat this guy's ass. He nodded like he thought he scared me and looked back at what looked like his friends with a smug look on his face.
"Yeah, butch little whores like you only have bikes to spread your legs and become armcandy for the real bikers. Unless you show me what you got in those jeans, I don't think you belong here." Really? In front of a goddamn COFFEE SHOP? Was this guy for real? Oh, I am so fucking DONE.
When he turned back to look at me, I raised my arm and punched him square in the nose. He groaned and bent over, clutching it between his fingers. No blood? Huh, must be getting soft.
"Listen, you motherfucking pile of shit," I hissed, squating so that i was level with him. My accent was coming in a lot thicker now thanks to my sudden anger. "I am a real fucking biker. And no piece of shit asshole like you is gonna tell me otherwise! So cut the bullshit!" I cursed him loudly in Portuguese which seemed to really scare the crap out of him, but it made him suddenly rise up and raise his fist like he was gonna smash it on top of my head.
Suddenly, a hand covered in a fingerless biker glove with black painted nails appeared to catch the man by the wrist and stop him.
"Whoa, man," my adrenaline was too high to see who it was even though the voice did register in my ears as one that was familiar. "How about we don't hit the nice woman and we leave her the fuck alone before she puts you in the hospital."
The man wrenched his hand from the guy's grip and then looked at him. I also turned and felt my heart almost stop in my chest.
The person who'd come to break up the fight, in skinny black jeans, a black wifebeater with sleave tattoos and wearing aviator sunglasses, with brownish black hair cut at various lengths but never doing past his shoulders, was none other, than Ashley Purdy.

Notes

I own Indigo, but not Ashley Purdy, nor anything related to Black Veil Brides.

I seldom write fanfiction, so don't judge me if it turns out terrible XP