Where details are exaggerated for whatever purpose it serves the subject.

1 November 2015

Sunday

1:00 p.m

Astrid Clarke pulled out the joint from her mouth, snubbing it under her expensive sneakers, "I'm gonna pretend I'm oblivious to her feelings. It's gonna fuck us up in the end." She rubbed a hand over her face and glanced at the man beside her, ruffled brown hair and piercing hazel eyes. The perfect frat boy. Spending her Sunday afternoons without her best friend who was madly in love with her and groped her nightly felt like removing your bra after a long day. What better way to release your frustration than to drink it till you have more liquor in your system than a bar, smoke till you can't think straight, and fuck till you're senseless. "Never pegged you for the slutty type", the blond beside her chortled and she flashed him an intimidating glare to which he cowered to, "isn't that rich coming from a college boy with NFL dreams."

Sensing the silent threat in her voice, he backed away slowly until he'd put a good distance between them, "chill." Threatening orbs pierced him with a look worthy of haunting dreams. He swallowed and then focused on his joint. 

"Tonight, I'm busy", wisps of grey smoke flew out of her mouth with every word she spoke. Her lungs burned and her mouth became dry with every inhale. A slight bob in response was the only response she got before he turned away and fled. 

Coward. 

Jerk.

Pedophile. 

The only sort of people she'd sworn to never associate herself with were the ones artfully painting her life. Life was a mystery, some stupid action thriller with one too many twists and a never-ending story. Good bits were scarce and the bad bits were plentiful. There were serial killers and murderers out to kill you in cold blood and no superheroes to save the day. 

God be damned, if a dude as hot as Tom Holland paraded the streets, I'd become the serial killer. Tossing the last of the cigarette away and dousing herself in perfume to hide the scent she marched off with every strand in place.

1 November 2015

Sunday

6:00 p.m

"What is your fucking problem, Knight?" Elowen shrieked, repeatedly jabbing him in the chest with her index finger till she was certain she'd bruised the area. The anger contorting his features didn't faze her as she continued to mirror his expression. He'd asked her to cancel the slumber party and call in as sick with buckets of homework. She'd lost a golden opportunity to sink her freshly manicured and painted claws into Rosé's ivory skin and watch her bleed. If this was Knight's way of trying to protect his girlfriend he'd just dug himself a grave filled with scorpions. 

"My problem is that you're a psychotic obsessive wench in dire need of therapy", his insult fueled the inferno inside Elowen as a loud smack resonated through the air. Elowen rubbed her palm on her blouse, the sting dying into a dull throb. She pegged him with a glower as he combed his hands through his hair. "Do you have a death wish, bastard?" She chided, smearing a smirk on her face. 

Charlie chuckled at her reaction. A blotch red spot formed on his face, "Elowen my future bride's bridesmaid, you obviously don't learn do you?" He took one threatening step forward and then another. His height combined with the expression on his face caused Elowen to falter till she was backed up against the wall with an intimidating Charlie looming over her. "I recorded everything, the blackmail, the accusations, the lies- Babe, you're dying."

 Elowen's expression morphed into one of astonishment as she tried to process his words, "you did not-"

"Oh, but I did." With that, he pressed a wet kiss to her temple, the kind that'd enrage her beyond limits. "Rosé might kill me for sleeping with you but your blackmailing ass is going to juvie." He flashed her an irking smirk before stepping away and handing her a flash drive, "for your da-" but his sweet revenge speech is cut short by a screech; soft yet audible and chilling. 

The kind of screech you'd hear in a horror movie right before the main protagonist meets their tragic death. 

The kind of screech you'd hear before a serial killer stabs you in the back and pulls out your organs. 

The kind of screech that was your alarm reminding you that today you're going to die, right this very second, this very moment. 

"D-d-did you hea-hear that?" Elowen stammered, her powerful façade faltering and chipping away until she lay bare and vulnerable in front of him. Charlie nodded, grabbing the baseball next to him he brandished it in front of him like a weapon. Elowen rolled her eyes, at times like this I really wonder what goes through her mind. Like hun, you might die and you still have time to roll your eyes like you're amidst a dramatic moment and not on your death bed. "I can't believe you brought that along with you." 

This time Charlie rolled his eyes, slowly venturing forward he spoke, "When dealing with bitches like you, even carrying a gun won't make me feel safe." Elowen ignored his snarky composure and grabbed a broom from the janitor's closet, "I swear if it's a cat, I'm slapping you in the face with this", she muttered, shoving the plastic rod in his face. 

"You'd rather fuck yourself with it because last orgasms before jail should be memorable." 

Elowen swallowed the nasty retort lingering on the tip of her tongue and pushed the Biology lab door open. His words didn't faze her. She knew this was coming but what Charlie always managed to underestimate was his opponents. She'd spent years not days with Charlie, she knew him by heart, she knew everything about him. To the point where she gave her twisted obsession an even more twisted label; love. 

She gripped the plastic rod tighter before throwing the door open and that's when her body froze and her mind barely registered the words pouring out of her mouth, "RUN CHARLIE!"

Standing proud in front of her was something out of a cliché horror movie. Baggy jeans, baggy hoodie as dark as night, and a sharp knife reflecting the moonlight. The silhouette tilted its head and brought his fingers up in a 'come-hither' motion. Elowen swallowed the bile rising in her throat and she sensed Charlie stiffen beside her.  He was frozen too, the bastard's body had locked down, they both would die. 

This was the end. 

Why did she have to follow the fucking brat downstairs?

Why couldn't she have just stayed back with the girls?

Was this her karma- no it was too bitchy to be real. 

She'd survi-

And before she could convince herself that her Harvard plans weren't just mediocre dreams she felt the cold of the knife enter her body before everything went black.