The crisp March air chilled Chloe as she climbed out of the cab of her truck. Yeah. Definitely the air. Closing the door a bit harder than she probably needed to, she slid her hands into her pockets and walked through the gates and into the cemetery.
The asphalt path wound lazily around the site, forming an irregular circuit of the place. Glancing around, Chloe saw that she was alone. Just as well, she thought as she stepped onto the grass and made a beeline for her destination.
"I, uh, know you're not supposed to talk ill of the dead," Chloe remarked, standing in front of the ornate headstone at the base of the towering family monument, "But that's bullshit." Checking again to make sure she was alone, she began in earnest.
"Everyone says that you were used, and that you're just as much of a victim as everyone else," she went on, voice raising a little, "I'm not buying that." She crouched and grabbed hold of the edge of the headstone, as if it were a shoulder.
"You hurt me, asshole," Chloe snarled, "You hurt Kate, you tried to hurt Max, and you fucking killed Rachel!" She stood and unbuckled her belt and started to unzip her jeans.
"I guess everybody in this town is too scared to say it," she declared, dropping her pants and squatting awkwardly, feeling the cool wind on her ass and legs, "But someone has to." After a moment of shifting around, a little stream of liquid hit the grass over the months old grave.
"Fuck you, Nathan Prescott," Chloe hissed, fixing her eyes on the name on the headstone as she pissed, "Have fun in Hell, douchebag."