ＥＮＴＲＹ １、ＬＬ
Three more lines until the guilt punches me right in the stomach.
Ramen cups, flutes half-filled with cheap champagne, unlabeled white bottles, cigarette butts, powder and ten dollar bills with the ends curving inwards were scattered across the table. The blinding light from the laptop in front of me screen stung my eye. My hair was in an entangled mess and it hurt; it fucking hurt after all that happened couple hours ago. It didn't take long until I realized I was only wearing a loose white t-shirt and a worn pair of underwear.
Orbs scanned the room, just to find that I'm alone. My weak legs managed to regain some degree of strength for me to walk but my shoulders ached. Groaning in discomfort, I inched closer towards the camera placed in front of the king-sized bed, staring dumbly at it before it struck me that I had to clean up the mess in my room. I put the camera away... but that was all the "cleaning" it took in this disgusting shithole called an apartment.
The smell of sex and alcohol and something else dubious (yet so familiar) filled the room, suffocating me in a way that I enjoyed it. I dragged myself to the shower to clean off all the grime and dirt, also trying to scrub off the eternal filth that will stick with me for god knows how long. The quick shower just made me feel so much alive, cold water burning my skin.
Barely having myself dried off, I just pulled anything nearby over myself so I can go outside. I don't plan on meeting anyone, but anyone could see me. Surprisingly, I'm wearing one of my favorites, a white sleeveless dress with a bit green lace peeking out under the thin layers of the skirt. How fitting for my little 'ritual' today.
I kept a gun in my panties as I headed towards the fourth floor of this condominium, where the swimming pools were located. Feeling the curves and edges of the cold metal against my thigh, I could tell that I had picked up a Luger. Not my favorite, but it was still nice to keep a gun around me.
My friends Eve and Chris are clearly too busy to worry about me. Can't even leave me a message. They're busy with life and here I am, literally and figuratively on the edge. My legs hanging down in between the empty spaces of the bars. My fingers scrambled around under my skirt to take out the gun. It was a sign of violence, but at the same time it's also delicate. Violence because it's dangerous and... delicate.
To this day I still wonder about what would happen if the only good thing that remained in my years of living was gone or broken. Would I go insane or would I move on with my life?
Fingers unlatched, pushing the cold material away from me and I didn't even bother looking at its descension.
Only one thought went through my mind.
"Should I follow after?"
