Beep. Beep. Beep

"Shut up"

Beep. Beep. Beep

Annoying piece of shit. Urgh.

Reaching out to the bedside table beside me, my hand aimlessly searches for the iphone to switch off the irritating alarm clock before it gives me a headache. I need to stop sleeping late, it's getting more and more difficult to wake up each morning.

Fuck Mondays.
My foul mood is going to be a pleasant grouch today and I haven't even gone to work yet.

Groaning, I drag my legs to the toilet and proceed with my daily routine of getting ready for work. I feel so exhausted, I can't even be bothered fixing the bird's nest in my hair, then again why bother anyways? My chocolate brown hair has a mind of it's own, even if I straightened it, it always manages to frizz out from the constant hair pulling during the day.

Quickly throwing on a pair of black pants, a light blue oxford blouse and my favourite black loafers, I grab my cross bag and stuff it with my notepad then dash out the apartment. Once I reach the ground floor, I take a quick step towards the front desk to greet Tommy, before I call for a cab and hit New York's finest traffic.

"Mornin' to ya, Miss Cassie. You're lookin' fairly lovely today."

"Oh, and which Irish persona are you today, Tommy?"

"Liam Neeson, ma'am. Quite suits me too. If I need people, I find 'em."

Giggling, "You can come find me anytime, Tommy. Your eccentric daily personas turn my frown upside down", throwing him a cheesy smile and a wink. Already feeling my mood lighten up significantly, I lean over the front desk and give him a small peck on his cheek. When I turn around to leave, he calls out for me.

"By the way, Miss Cassie, you got a letter from a strange tattooed bloke. He came askin' for ya, but he looked kinda shifty, so I told 'im I'll give the letter to ya 'cause you got no mail box."

Frowning, I take the letter from his hand and examine it, only to find it addressed to Madame Cleo. That alone sends all sorts of chills up and down my spine. How the fuck does anyone know my alias?

"Did you happen to notice anything else about this man, other than his tattoos?"

He paused, scratching his small goatee, his facial expression grim,

"Miss, 'tis hard to forget how he looked like. He was a tall bloke, 'bout six two, Asian, 'nd looked like one of 'em guys who hits the weights. His tatts ain't of the normal sort either. Ghastly lookin' ink."

Now doesn't that sound comforting to hear.

"Thank you, Tommy. Let me know if he shows up again, and don't let anyone know where my apartment is."

He nods and resumes playing his mobile game, while sitting in front of the surveillance monitor screens on his desk, hidden under the top edge.

Tearing the seal, I open the letter, already pissed that the magazine gave my address to someone, and I find that it containing a small note folded in half. Unfolding it, my hand trembles at the three words and the small daimon written inside.

I found you.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

A/N:
Daimons are Japanese emblems used to represent, identify or decorate families, businesses or organizations. In this case, it's used to identify the sender.

On another note, this is my first time writing on Wattpad, so I would appreciate any feedback and support.

Stay awesome,

Tamieh.