Chapter Thirteen: Wither And Decay, Lolita Says Hey

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The girls, having heard Eisa disappeared sometime during the day, rush to her home the second the final bell rings

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The girls, having heard Eisa disappeared sometime during the day, rush to her home the second the final bell rings. They knock and knock at her door, before Spencer, on instinct alone, tries the knob, finding it unlocked. All of them make eye contact worriedly before forging ahead tentatively, quietly, though none sure why they won't speak. Maybe it's a fear of breaking the eerie spell the residence is under. They first come upon the lounge, with two coffee cups, one marked as Eisa's with a smudge of red on the rim. Then the kitchen, remainders of vomit in the sink, her heels on the floor, another smudge of red on the floor, in the shape of Eisa's dainty arch between thumb and forefinger. Aria panics, reaching down to touch the smudge before recoiling in sudden fear.

"Oh god, what if it's blood."

Hanna rolls her eyes, touching the red with a pinkie finger, no fear in her limbs. "It's her lipstick, she wears this shade so often it's burned in my brain. It probably got on her hand after the vomit, and then she... Collapsed on the floor? And touched the ground?"

The girls accept the explanation, but then they hear a thump from the upper floor, and the terror is again instilled in the group. As an awkward clump, they slowly creep up the stairs, and come upon Eisa's room, identifiable as the only one without nothing on it or around it, like a hub of life in the hallway. They creep up to it, and push open the door that creaks. And there's Eisa, dressed to kill, in all new make up, her hair just slightly damp from a recent shower, leaning over to triple check the line on her lipstick, a glossy beige. She sees her friends in the mirror, an evil smirk stretching across her mouth before she whips around, hand on hip as she practically poses for her freaked out friends.

"Well, well, what are you ladies doing here?"

"You disappeared, we were worried! And by the way, your front door was unlocked and there's vomit in your sink and lipstick smudged on your floor. What the hell is going on with you?" Hanna abruptly grouches at her friend who seems eerily nonplussed by the comments.

"Oh, Noel and I had another fight, he caught me hooking up with someone under the bleachers and he decided to have some childish conniption," she literally waves this away as nothing, gliding to her wardrobe to add a stylish jacket to the ensemble and put on a pair of thigh high slouch stiletto boots to finish up her ensemble while she finishes talking. "I got a little stressed after he left, it was a little panic vomit, no biggie. Now if you'll excuse me, I have places to be."

Eisa breezes past her group of friends, down her stairs, gathering her things in a Chanel bag as they follow her.

"Oh, yea, 'cause that's normal. Eisa, what is wrong with you lately, you've been acted really weird."

"Sorry ladies, I've got my head all screwed on the right way now, I promise. No more weird. Now, you mind? I do actually have plans."

Eisa shoos them all out of her house, and they all give her a final weird look before splitting up to go their separate ways. Eisa, now alone, gives a heavy sigh, the events of the day weighing down on her again. She shakes herself back to normal, and checks the newest text she'd gotten after leaving her shower.

What a good little Bitch you are.

Now that that is over,

It's time you met replacement Noel.

I'm sure you remember,

He was particularly enamoured with your half truths.

If that doesn't jog your memory, try this,

Now that you're single, you better follow through,

Because that fact changed.

And hey, maybe he'll keep you out of trouble

Cops are always good allies for repeat offenders

- A

With a shudder, Eisa checks for her friends before walking back in her house, the exit merely a show to make them leave as she heard them coming up the stairs. Once safely inside, she cleans the sink vigorously, scrubbing at it without paying attention. Eventually, she realises it's already clean and stops, a shaky breath escaping her as she reaches for her phone, digging in her bag for the business card she'd gotten from Wilden and promptly shoved in the bottom and forgotten about. Her hands tremble as she dials the number for his personal mobile, determination stopping her tears from welling up in her eyes. The dial tone rings several times before his odorous voice answers.

"Darren speaking."

"Hello Detective Wilden, it's Eisa Janusson. You told me to call if my relationship status ever changed?" She's sure to use her most sultry voice, keeping contempt out of it.

"Eisa, it's... Great to hear from you. I assume it did," she can hear the leer in his voice and holds back the temptation to hurl.

"I was sick of dealing with his childish moods, felt like maybe I'd like it better to be with someone more... mature."

"I did figure it wouldn't last much longer. I've found, if a girl likes older men, it's not something they can turn off, not a need that can be sublimated by dating boys. How about, I pick you up in an hour, I take you out to dinner, and we see where it goes from there, hmm?"

She hates him. Hates him. There's fury, violence, absolute disgust, boiling just under the surface of her skin. The fact that he thinks he has her all figured out pisses her off, irregardless of the fact that it works in her favour, somewhat. Even so, she curbs the urge and flirts back.

"Works for me," she fires off her address easily. "I'll see you later then... Darren," she intentionally whispers his name seductively, the way she knows men like him love to hear from their triumphs. 

She hangs up, shaking herself off before going to collect the coffee mugs from the coffee table, busying herself with cleaning and meaningless household tasks to pass the time. Before she knows it, an hour has passed, and she flinches at the buzz of her phone. She reads the text, almost fearing what it says. But it's just Wilden, telling her to come to his car rather than actually coming to her door. His lack of gentlemanly manners, while usually annoying in dates, is comforting. The fewer people see his face outside her house, the less likely it is people will notice her relationship with him. She picks up her bag, triple checks for house keys and wallet before quickly but gracefully exiting the house and moving to get into his car. After buckling into the seat, she turns to find him leering, frustratingly attractive, because even though he's a disgusting man, even she can't deny he certainly is pretty. 

"So, where are you taking me?" She blinks her eyes at him, sultry and innocent in attitude alone.

He doesn't say anything for a moment, then leans in to kiss her, and when he does so, she considers fighting it, before remembering why she was there in the first place. So she melts into it, participating as he slips his tongue into her mouth, moaning just right as his hand slips across the console between to caress her waist. Seemingly appeased, he pulls away, a smirk firmly planted on his face.

"Don't you worry about it, pretty little girls don't have to worry about a single thing with a big strong man around."

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