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    she didn’t have the energy to keep looking for the officially lost weapon. chloe maneuvered her way back to victoria. pure anger stitched into both of her own pupils, and for a second she was tempted to toss one of victoria’s belongings in the same direction.

Send “Hickeys!” for my muse to wake up after a ‘busy’ night with your muse to find hickeys all over them self.

   the hangover felt like a balloon under her cranium, slowly being inflated, pressure mounting. she splashed cold water on her face just to feel something refreshing and instantly wished she could wash her brain free of the toxins too. the mirror had that patina of age over the bronze frame, likewise the surface of the glass was splotched black in places. chloe stood and stared at herself, or at least the distorted image of herself. up close, she could see the imperfections in her own deathly pale features. smudged eyeliner and creased lines of exhaustion engraved in her porcelain flesh… purple love bites that were scattered across her neck, chest and collarbone like a disease.

        ❝ jesus.. ❞

   she brought her fingertips to brush along the marked flesh, trying to recall what had lead to this; how was it she was here and in this state? her last memory was of rachel, an intoxicated rachel to be exact. vivid images of last night’s night raw passion clouded her brain, and throughout the duration of her headache she couldn’t help but smirk to herself.

   consequently, the price descent stepped out the bathroom, and returned to her pigsty of a bedroom. a thin blade of sunlight pierced through the gap behind the american flag curtain, and there kept rachel’s half naked body, sprawled across the bed. how was this not the first thing she seen once she awoke from her beauty sleep? god her memory was shit. nevertheless, chloe slowly and cautiously sauntered to the mattress. one knee after the other, she crawled and brought herself on top of the sleeping model, sitting firmly on her waist.

     she focused her attention on the gun that she was holding, a 44. Magnum. the firearm had two huge advantages; one- it was light, and two- it was very compact. standing a good ten feet away from her bottled targets, she straightened her slouched posture, parted her legs and steadied the gun with both slender hands. focused more than ever, chloe held her breath and pulled the trigger. the gunshot cracked into the air as loud as thunder but without the raw power of a storm. the bullet hit the target with extreme precision, piercing effortlessly through the beer bottle, allowing the glass to shatter instantly. 

chloe + ally .