chapter 2

Sara's POV
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"Get out!" my boyfriend yelled at me. Cross that out, it's ex boyfriend now. "Get out, you fat gross bitch!"
It's been too long since I've been treated with respect. Ever since my family passed away in a car crash, I've gained a little bit too much grieving weight. 70 pounds, to be exact. Brian started to go out more after 30, but stopped coming home after 50. More bars, strip clubs, more importantly, skinnier strippers who would swallow cum instead of ice cream and cheeseburgers.
Currently, I'm loading my car up with my shit, wearing a old, small Drake T shirt and some skin tight sweatpants and some Walmart flip flops. I've outgrown these clothes about 30 pounds ago, so I got a sliver of belly showing. My ass crack is probably on display right now, but I won't bother pulling my pants up; It'll just fall back down.
I jump into the front seat and turn the car on. "You'll be wishing I hadn't left you!"
"Boo hoo!" He screams back. He's drunk, not just noticeable by the slurred speech; It's the 5th beer can he's opened today. "I'll find another hot skank who's got some big tits and can *** you did!"
"Complimenting me again sweetie!" I exclaim in a girly voice. He's always been such a masculine guy. "Maybe find another at a gay bar! You seem to be finding a lot of time with them guys anyway!"
Brian throws a beer bottle at my car as I start to drive away.
I'm on the freeway before I start crying.

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I walk up the tattoo parlor at Muscle Beach. It was around 9 at night, and it was a long ride. My shirt is up to my boobs, after all the snacking I was doing during the ride. Fuck, I should cut down on it. I probably ate 5000 calories just on the ride up here.
As I'm about to go up to the tattoo artist, a white girl with flowing blonde hair posts up a sign. The back of her shirt rides up, but not in the 'she's fat' way. She's on the skinny side of thick, with a lot of boob and butt with some good hips. A pretty flat stomach too. She has a dainty little tramp stamp, with little diamonds like a chandelier.
She takes the gum out of her mouth and sticks it to the wall next to the tattoo designs. She steps back and smiles and prances away. I swear, she glances at me before turning away. Curious, I walk up to the sign.

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ROOMMATE NEEDED
*NON SMOKER
*CASUAL DRINKER
*MUST PAY 1/4 OF RENT
*INTERVIEW NEEDED
CALL FOR INTERVIEW
#********** (I didn't want to write a real phone number)
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I take it into consideration. I don't have a place to live, I'm basically broke, and I can't really get a job until I got a place, and Venice and Malibu rent is pretty expensive.
Fuck it. I whip out my phone and start to call the number.