#scaryfxckingprick

scaryfxckingprick

This seemed reminiscent of a bad situation, but she who doesn’t remember the past is inevitably bound to repeat it.

That had to be better, though, this had to have a greater outcome. She had a gun, too, and what seemed unfair prior, could be fought equally now. And if any doubts cluttered her mind, she had to remember the beating Warren gave him. Man, to think he got pummeled prior to that is sorta... Funny?

Funny to think that the roles were completely switched, to see the spoiled brat on the floor for at least a second, the beta boy over him... It would offer a laugh. Something Max probably saw eye to eye with, something Rachel would’ve found hilarious--

Rachel.

Chloe knew the junkyard by now, like the back of her hand, it wasn’t difficult to find the burial spot. That of which still haunted her to see, and she struggled not to stare at the body bag half-exposed, instead at the rich kid, standing above it. Gun loaded felt increasingly heavy in her back pocket, and she looked back, as if to make sure she was alone. She’d regret not having Max back her up, rewind problems keeping her ass alive more than once.

They promised they’d bring the Vortex Club, the Prescotts, Nathan to justice, together. But there were some that were better done alone. Hands clenched, it was reflex to reach back if things got hairy.

“I hope you checked the perimeter, as my Step-ass would say.” The situation was no better than her callout in the bathroom, and it followed the same law. “It’s pretty obvious what I wanna know, what the hell did you do to Rachel?”