Arikaz Mall Girl

Amalie woke up from what would have had to have been ten hours of uninterrupted sleep. It had done miracles to her health and state of mind. She got out of bed, put her glasses on and hobbled out of the bedroom. Her eyes rested on an empty bottle of Doppio Passo on the kitchen counter, along with a couple of empty Tupperware bowls. Apparently she enjoyed wine last night, and the dinner she made on Sunday. Well, it seemed like Drunken Ams had a great time alone after that unexpected tryst with Henriette the manga-haired Goth. A wide smile on her face. She virtually melted like butter when recalling the incident in the restaurant. If they had not been in a restaurant, they would have done it. Sure as Hell. Then she would have got her second orgasm caused by another person. The mere thought teased her brain. Head tingles. Deep, swollen ache. A sardonic smile. Her two friends. Yay.

Her white nightgown landing on the bathroom floor, she entered the shower cabinet. Helena's two bottles were still there. Sebastian Penetrate. What an utterly stupid name! So tacky! Soon the hot water cleansed her body. Her groin was still hairless. Now she had got accustomed to the cold, naked feeling.

"Ow..." she let out. The cut below her tummy had not healed properly yet.

Despite the fact that she and Henriette did not get it off together, she felt good. Not only good, great! Yeah! When she left the shower she even whistled merrily. She had not whistled since she was a child! She combed her hair, before putting make-up and lipstick on. Today's outfit was a black shirt with white buttons over a plain white T-shirt, a white pair of pants and a brown leather belt with golden buckles. She looked like she was about to ride a horse. She did not give a flat, flying f**k.

Should she cut her hair short? Like the wig Henriette had been wearing? A brief moment of contemplation. No. Noooope. Amalie was still going to be Long-haired Girl! Yeah!

So... Today was her day off as well. What was she to do on a regular Thursday? Contemplating the question she put on a jug of coffee, before mixing together a pancake batter. Butter was sizzling in the frying pan. Soon she started making pancakes while sipping coffee with Coffee Mate in it. In striking contrast to caffè dranghiato, caffè amalietto tasted great!

She brought in the mail. Nothing new. No letters. Only the newspaper and some commercials from the large shopping mall Arikaz more than 30 kilometers from Gucklewood where Amalie lived. She put bits of cut bacon into the frying pan. Then she poured batter into it. The bacon would stick to the pancake and make a delicious morning meal with carbs, fat and proteins. Soon a neat pile of bacon pancakes ended up on a black IKEA platter. Letting out a relaxed sigh Amalie turned off the stove and brought the pancakes and coffee over to her small kitchen table.

PEP (Pig Exploder Psycho) had sent a letter to the police station in Central Battersby. The letter stumped the investigators, they could make little out of the ramblings of the clearly disturbed person. The person wrote about anthropomorphic pigs, sadistic Dutch doctors and white-coated muscle men. The police had allowed the letter to be published in a bid to get help from the general public to identify this person. A reward of nearly 10,000 batties was offered to anyone whose tips helped solve the investigation. It was more than Amalie earned in two months.

Speaking of earning. Would she get paid when she was "excused" from work? Only one way to find out. She had to call Harald, since she was not organized in the Teacher's Union. Since the Teacher's Union did not exist anymore, she and every teacher in the region pretty much had to survive on their own, completely unprotected by shady, Mafia-like characters.

With a slightly shivering hand she picked up her red cell phone and called Harald. She waited patiently for him to pick up the phone. Nobody answered. Not even an answering machine. She interrupted the call. Harald was probably busy, since he was a busy man. It was stressful. Being in charge of an entire school was not easy.

It had been a while since the last time she visited Arikaz mall, the biggest mall in the region. It made IKEA look like a little garden shack in comparison. Since the parking lot was bigger than the island of Blansey and one had to pay to park there, she was going to take the bus. Her blue little Toyota Aygo would not go out on adventures with her today. So, today she was going to be Mall Girl! Yeah! Maybe she would find some bargain price items as well. Leaving behind her half-eaten serving of pancakes, she put on her black winter coat and left the flat.

Outside it was raining cats and dogs. She stopped in the doorway with her mouth agape. It had to have been the first time in six months that it rained! This winter coat would do her no good. Turning around, she got back into the elevator. Three minutes later she came back down, wearing a dark-red raincoat and a blue umbrella. On her feet she wore Goretex shoes more water-proof than the average boat. Next stop: The bus stop.

***

Arikaz mall was visible for miles, since it was situated in a completely flat area. The blue and red logo appeared on the horizon, fully visible from the rainy motorway. The black bus driver drove off the motorway, crossed through three large traffic circles, before ending up at the bus terminal. Amalie got off the bus, along with at least fifty people. With people swarming around her, she searched for the underground. The mall itself was at least a kilometer away, so there were large conveyor belts that led the customers quickly and efficiently from A to B. The blonde lined up on a belt that seemed to travel with the speed of sound. It was like being at an international airport, with electronic commercial posters on both sides of the long tunnel.

Sebastian Penetrate. Seeing a poster with that name, she nearly tripped at the end of the belt. Tripping while standing perfectly still was quite impressive.

The elevator took her up to ground floor. She found herself right next to a supermarket probably three times as big as her regular supermarket in Central Battersby. There were stores as far as the eye could see. Flower shops. Book stores. Cafés. Clothes shops. Pet shops. Dazzled by the sheer size of the mall, she walked across the blue floor. The escalators took her up to first floor where even more stores met her stunned blue eyes. A Chinese restaurant... Her mouth slightly opened. A little store that sold necklaces and bracelets. Her mouth opened even more. She entered it. Behind the counter a plump, little Asian girl was standing. Amalie greeted her politely, she greeted her back.

"Can I help you?" she asked with her Oriental accent.

"Thanks, I'm just browsing," Amalie replied, before her gaze fell on a black leather choker with a pendant that looked just like that of Henriette's. Massive head tingles. A dragon pictogram. Next to the necklaces there was a collection of nail polish and other make-up products. Amalie had made a decision. Now she was Dragon Girl! Yeah! With long, black, scratching fingernails.

She left the store, having bought the dragon necklace and the black nail polish. When was the last time she bought a necklace? She honestly could not remember. She stopped wearing necklaces when she started crossfit - doing squats with a necklace was not comfortable, especially not when two thirds of her body weight rested on top of her shoulders.

Her stomach growled. The Chinese restaurant was conveniently close. Why not? A polite Chinese man with thick glasses greeted her as she entered the premises. Table for one. By happenstance she got seated by a large drawing of a dragon; it was nearly identical to the one in the other restaurant. Menu in her hand. Glass of water next to her. Generic Chinese background music. Amalie smacked her mouth. It was dry as a cracker. Dehydration from drinking last night. She guzzled half the glass of water in one continuous sip. A ghastly metallic taste. Mild anxiety. The signs of a Class I Hangover. The lesser of all evils. Like all pain, it was temporary. A meal would do her good. Her stomach let out another growl.

"Excuse me?" Amalie called out. The Chinese man came back. - "I'll have... duck with ginger sauce."

"Naturally, madam," he said with a polite smile, before receiving her menu. - "Medium or large?"

"Large," Amalie replied sternly. She was so hungry that she could literally eat a horse. Her blood sugar hit vertigo-inducing levels of low. She virtually bent over on the chair, holding her tummy. Her glass was empty. The ghastly metallic taste was worse. Anxiety moderate.

Okay. Relax. Deep breaths. It is only a mild hangover. A mild hangover. You have been through worse. She could not believe that she actually drank an entire bottle of wine alone. 13 % at least. She took off her raincoat. Her forehead was tinkling with sweat; she used the sleeve of her black shirt to wipe it off. She swallowed. The blonde was the only person in the restaurant. No wonder, since it was eleven thirty on a completely ordinary Thursday. Nobody ate dinner at eleven thirty. Nobody but her, it seemed. She was Hunger Girl, and Hunger Girl had better not be messed with. Nooope. Relax. Deep breaths. It is only a mild hangover.

Her glass was still empty.

"E-excuse me?" she asked. The Chinese man, who was in the kitchen, peeped his head out behind the corner. - "Could I have another glass of water?"

"Naturally, madam," he said politely, approached her and took the empty glass. Not long after he returned with a full glass. Amalie thanked him, before guzzling half the glass in one contiuous sip. It temporarily relieved her from the ghastly metallic taste.

All of a sudden her cell phone buzzed. She picked it up. A gasp. It was an SMS from Helena!

boo! amalie, i am so embarrassed! i suck at replying to texts! have been so darn busy this week. new job, no time off. wanna come to my place and have dinner on friday? ps i bought new shampoo bottles ;) helena xxxxd

With a wide, guffawing smile on her face, Amalie texted her back:

sure hel :D id love to come. missed you so much xxxxd

Send. At that same moment her dinner arrived on the table. Amalie thanked the Chinese guy, before eating with ravenous appetite. She ate so fast that she nearly ate the cutlery as well. Watching her eat was quite literally a blink and you'll miss it moment.

Another buzz from her cell phone. Nearly dropping her fork on the floor, she picked up the red cell phone from her purse. Another message from Helena:

six o'clock good? my mother's coming too...

"What?" Amalie said out loud, catching the attention of the Chinese guy behind the counter. Helena invited her mother too? With a stumped look on her face she sat there staring in mild disbelief at the phone. She shrugged. It was probably a good sign. Helena wanted to introduce her to her family. The blonde chose to interpret her intentions as good, texting her back:

six o'clock it is :D looking forward to meeting your mom :)

Send. Amalie explicitly forbade her mind to think any more of it; over-analysis was the last thing she needed.

Helena bought new shampoo bottles. What did she mean by that? Did she not intend to come back to her place? Back to her spacy shower? Why did it take her so long to reply to the SMS? Why wrong number the other day? What was really going on in Helena's life? What was she up to? With whom? With someone else than Amalie? Was she inviting her mother over to avoid being alone with Amalie? Was she afraid of her? Of her raging libido?? Of her rampant desire?!

A sardonic smile. Good. Over-analyzing to the point of being ludicrous. A parody. The ghastly metallic taste lingered. It was even worse, even with the rapid devouring of food. Now she was nauseous as well. Anxiety barely tolerable. Her hands trembled. She kept fidgeting.

"How did the food taste?" a voice suddenly sounded. Amalie flinched, looking like a deer in headlights. The Chinese guy stood next to her with a smile.

"It..." she swallowed, before clearing her throat. - "It tasted good." Her voice was weak and whimperish. - "I'd like to pay now, please." Anxiety high. She wanted to curl together in a dark corner and weep.

"Of course," he said with a polite smile. - "Cash or card?"

"C-card."

The man disappeared into the kitchen, before returning with a card swiping machine. With clumsy movements that did not feel like her own, she took out her dark-blue wallet and took out her bank card. After having dialed her code, she got the receit.

"Have a nice day," the man said. - "Welcome back some other time."

"Thank you," Amalie said, getting up on slightly unsteady legs, feeling dizzy and scared.

The anxiety rode her like a mare, it was deeply seated in her chest and diaphragm. It was like the world was off-level. The poor blonde had trouble walking, her gait was more an ill, semi-meandering shuffle. Her hangover was worse than she thought, she could not possibly have been completely sober when she woke up this morning. Now, on the other hand, she was dead sober. A Class II Hangover. Maybe even Class III. The ghastly metallic taste was horrible. Anxiety through the roof. Cold sweat. Dizziness. Lethargy. The coctail of negative physical sensations filed under the umbrella term veisalgia. Allegedly the term was invented by a Norwegian, based on some Norwegian word for being hung over. Maybe Denise knew, as her head was filled with all that largely useless trivia.

Deep breaths. Racing heart. Eyes facing down on the blue floor. Darting back and forth. Mouth open. Face contorted in an expression of agony, of visceral angst. The first image that appeared in her head was the famous painting "Scream" by the Norwegian painter Munch. The very epitome of anxiety and possibly the first painting of a panic attack. Exactly what she was embarking on herself at the moment. Sick and miserable were only feeble understatements. There was a tornado inside her head.

A sore whimper. Tears flooding her eyes. Rapid, shallow breath. Fidgeting hands. Her entire body tightened as she embarked on the descending escalator to get the Hell out of the massively over-sized mall.

All of a sudden she bumped into another person. In fact she fell over that person, landing both of them on the blue floor by the end of the escalators. Amalie was so scared that she let out a scream that rang in the mall, catching everybody's attention. She turned to the other person. Her
jaw dropped, her face contorted in an inimical sneer.

It was that bloody Hispanic woman again!

"What the Hell are you doing?!" Amalie screamed. The woman got up on her feet, while Amalie herself was unable to do the same. She remained on her knees. - "Running over people like that!"

"Oh, it's you," the woman said coldly, wiping the proverbial dust off her clothes. Her calm demeanor formed a striking contrast to Amalie's hysteria. - "I believe you ran over me, since you came running down the escalators like you were chased by the Devil."

Amalie bounced up on her shaking, unsteady feet, glaring at her. People formed a semi-circle around them. The raging blonde and the dignified Latina. Amalie was so scared that she was dangerously close to the fight or flight response. One had better not corner her now!

"Well?" the woman asked. - "Are you gonna apologize or just stand there eye-balling me?"

"Get out of my way," Amalie murmured with frantic eyes.

"No, I'm not getting out of your way," the woman said. - "Your behavior is scandalous. I've bumped into you four times the last week. Every time you've offended me. I've let it go three times. Not this time." She rested her hands on her hips, looking Amalie dead in the eye, completely unafraid. - "I demand an apology."

She could not take it any more! She needed to get out before sheer panic killed her. Trying to escape the situation, she found herself blocked by the woman.

"You're not going anywhere before you've apologized," she said sternly. - "I'm not gonna put up with your atrocious conduct."

Amalie was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. She could feel her heart pound and her throat tightening. This was it! She was going to die!!

"Yeah, apologize to the lady!" a man in the crowd of spectators exclaimed.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!!!" Amalie screamed, before giving the woman a powerful push. With a scream the woman fell on the floor with a loud thud, letting out a wail of pain.

"F*****g Hell, you're mental!" a teenager muttered as the raging, panicking blonde left the mall with audible sobs.

How she got home she could not remember. It was all a blur. Back in the safe confines of her own flat, she entered the bathroom. Her shirt was soaked in sweat. She needed to pee so badly. Getting naked she sat down on the toilet, burying her face in her hands. Okay. She made a totall a*s of herself today; she was an assette. Luckily it happened in a mall where nobody knew her. Imagine if the same thing had happened in her local mall and Denise (or even Helena!) happened to walk in on her and see this madness.

She cried. My God, how much she cried! Sobs. Convulsion. Wailing. Tears. Shaking. The world was an awful place and everybody hated her! Helena ignored her texts for days, and then she invited her mother to come with her on the date! How rude! How f*****g rude! Amalie wiped herself overly hard, before entering the shower cabinet. She would not even look at Helena's two bottles with that stupid name.

"Ow..." she let out as the hot water tinkled over her still healing cut on her mound just below her tummy. Her second shower of the day. A very necessary one nonetheless.

Later she sat cuddled up in her red, comfy couch eating the rest of the pancakes she made in the morning. Occasional sips from a cup of herbal tea with milk and honey in it. Feeling all dead inside, she scowled at the black screen of her LCD TV. No use to even bother turning it on. There were only stupid reality shows on TV anyways.

Jersey W***e. Paradox Hotel. Big Brothel. Penetration Island.

She preferred silence and her own troubled thoughts next to that brain-rotting crap. After she finished her meal she just sat there staring at the wall. Apathy. Drained of energy and inner drive. Lethargy.

The deep, swollen ache had withdrawn. At least for now.

The exhausted blonde got up and decided to go to bed. It was six thirty in the evening. She just wanted the awful day to end.