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| Damien Steiker |The 17-year-old Damien Steiker woke up early on a Saturday morning. The glistening sun was yet to show its bright face, so the light was dim but clearly morning. He sat upright on his rotted old mattress located in the shoe box-sized room he'd been living in since infantry. The male stretched his pale arms up with a yawn, then ran a hand through his pitch black hair. It quickly fell back into it's place in front of his right eye as he slowly stood himself up. Damien quietly picked up his grey hoodie from his floor and held it in his left hand. He took a quick peak in the mirror, a habit of his, though he did not care at the least what he looked like. His bright icy blue eyes shimmered in his reflection, staring back at him. Giving a silent sigh, Damien opened his door and tip-toed to the front entrance of their trashy old rat hole of a home. Careful not to wake his parents this early, since he didn't want a black eye before the day even started. He swiftly put his arms through the grey jacket holes, zipped it up only slightly, and pulled the hood over his head. He grabbed the rusty old door nob and, as silently as he could, left the house.
5:00am. Before the city was even awake. No bustling cars were on the newly paved road, and very few people could be found wandering the streets. Damien shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and walked, not eyeing anything or anyone but the pavement in front of him. He continued this as he walked down a few blocks. He passed boutiques, restaurants, and overly priced newspaper stands that weren't even open yet as he made his way down the road. On the corner of on road he stopped. A quaint little coffee shop had taken this corner of the street. This was Damien's favorite place to go in the mornings. Mostly because they had the best coffee he'd ever had, but also because they opened so early that it was quiet. He pushed open the door and heard the tiny chime of the bell. He cringed just slightly at the happy ring of the bell. The sound mocked him, and defied his dark mood. A short-ish girl with her light brown hair up in a pony-tail met him at the register. She decided she was about 15, and too perky for him. The girl gave him a fake employee smile and asked what she could get him. Damien avoided eye contact and simply gave her his order. He hated speaking to anyone, females especially. They always tried to get his number. As if he even had, or wanted, a phone. She gave him a warm cup of steaming black coffee. Damien nodded a thank you, gave her money, and shuffled himself over to a corner seat. The male sat back and sighed, taking small sips of his coffee as he watched the outside world from inside the shop.
