Chapter 4: unexpected turnouts

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Good morning motherfuckers,

What's your favourite TV show of all time?

Sister sister holds a special place in my heart.

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My mind awoke before my eyes did, the jolting pain in my head only reminded me that I am dealing with a literal psycho.
I wasn't hung over, at least I was telling myself that. Truth be told, I probably was. No, I definitely was.
The useless piece of light source we know to be the sun violently beamed in my face causing me to groan irritatedly.

I fucking hate light.

I pulled myself out of bed and stood still for a mere second re-evaluating my entire existence.
It was 9:00am and I had come to find my phone spammed with phone calls from my mother.
I sent her a simple text just to reassure her I am still breathing.

Me: I am still breathing

She left me on read.

Me: You don't care? Damn.

She still left me on read.
I'm going to go and drown myself to gain some motherly attention.

I got up and dragged myself into the shower standing under the burning water whilst constantly dozing into unconsciousness.
Remind me to never drink again.
That being said, I'll probably be completely and utterly wasted within a few days.
After twenty consecutive minutes of almost suffocating in water and steam I pulled myself out of the shower before moisturising and brushing my teeth.
My cupboards and pantry were deprived of any form of food other than the instant noodles my mother was so adamant to pack causing me to decide to go out and get breakfast.

I chose a basic outfit, at this point I would have taken any form of comfort.
I threw on black, fitted cargo pants as well as a plain black tee-shirt that cropped exposing very little of my stomach.
The weather was relatively windy causing me to pull one of my brothers zipped down jackets out.
I paired them with regular high rise white sneakers and stared into the mirror some more analysing my hair.
It was drying from the shower and the loose curls were beginning to frizz only frustrating me.
With the lack of energy to actually give a fuck, I tied it back into a low bun and the front portions begin to loosen over my face.
Whatever, I'm still a bad bitch.

Grabbing my keys and shoving my wallet into the inside pocket of my jacket- or rather Malachi's jacket I exit my apartment beginning to make my way to the petite cafe I had came across the previous morning.
The sun beamed and the wind glazed through my hair.
No it wasn't elegant, they caused my flyaways to drop onto my forehead and before you knew it, I looked like I had gotten bangs cut by a seven year old.
Brushing them to the side with my hand in order to look a little more presentable, I enter the cafe and sit at a small table in the corner waiting for a waitress.

The worker I had previously met the other day sat in the seat opposite me and let out a groan.
"Please don't make me serve you, I've had enough of this shit."
I chuckle at her response before nodding.
"I didn't get your name before." She curiously questions.
"Tallia, and you?" I respond equally as intrigued.

"It's Sierra, with an with an A." She smiles or sulks, I can't tell.

"I don't think you can use any other lett-," Never mind, I'll let her have her moment.

"I like your accent, where is it from?" She questions.

"Montreal." I tell her brushing the hairs out my face.
"Don't yall get free marijuana there, why the hell would you come here?" She looks at me as if I'm crazy.
We don't get fr-
"To kill myself." I sarcastically reply.
Well having just read Damien's file, I think I was telling the truth.

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