The Protagonist

It's a dark and dreary back alley where Estelle awakens. It is also far too early for her to be awake, judging by the lack of light that seeps through to her. Or that could also be because of the amount of dirt over her face, it could be that too.

The black haired girl groans as she claws her way out from the rocky ground soaked in unknown liquids and substances, she's not sure why she's buried under the ground and even then she's not even sure if she was buried. It was a terribly done job considering she's still alive. She winces as she pulls out a piece of gum from her, surprisingly clean but tattered and incredibly foul-smelling, clothes. In fact, everything smells like shit. She has no idea why the world has suddenly decided to barrage her with an amazingly disgusting array of smells. She stinks of alcohol, blood and she supposes the rest of the funky smells could simply be accounted to sleeping under the ground. Blood?

Her head throbs painfully and while it undoubtedly hurts, she's fairly sure the pain she's suffering from, is due to the hangover and not where she slept.

Fairly sure.

Perhaps it's also because of the alcohol that her throat feels like shit. She roughly registers that she feels thirsty and that the gnawing hunger emerging from her stomach seems as though it's climbing up her throat. Perhaps that's because something is.

"Ah, shit."

Her voice is hoarse, the clear liquid that she retches out, not helping the lower register her voice has taken. Estelle groans, a pale hand reaching up to her hair, drenched in her sweat and whatever she was lying in. Was her skin always that pale? She tries to comb through the clumps of tangled black, trying to at least clean up a little despite knowing her efforts are futile. She tries to recall how she managed to get here, lying in a random alleyway, looking like she was just mugged or the victim of a murder. She snorts at that.

She would like to say she remembers her assaulter, possibly to take revenge on them, but there is not much she remembers. She doesn't remember her family, she doesn't remember the life she had. She doesn't remember basic details about who she was before, not her hobbies, not the type of music she enjoyed and quite unfortunately she doesn't remember her age. She is however, able to vaguely recall the situation she was stuck in before this whole debacle.

Estelle recalls she met her assailant while she was stuck in a club, well not stuck exactly, it might have been her that dragged them along and not the other way around but she honestly couldn't remember. She had been dressed in the same form-fitting black dress she currently wore, the denim jacket she found on her form when she awoke is not something she remembers owning however. Ah, it had belonged to the short, but assuredly beautiful, female at the bar. Estelle remembers mentioning to her friends about introducing herself to the beauty. The faceless figures, presumably her friends, had sighed in fond exasperation before waving her off. There were many at the club, but she could not recall any of their faces. Heck she couldn't even remember her friend's faces, and yet the woman at the bar, is the only face Estelle can recall. She was beautiful, Estelle decides, clearly many shared the same opinion as her. Estelle recollects that during her brief introduction to the woman, many had come close, in an attempt to do the same as Estelle. She recalls with brief pride that the woman had shooed them off in order to continue her conversation with Estelle.

The woman had introduced herself as Trina. Estelle had been too distracted by her beauty to notice that she was actually fairly intelligent. Her eyes, the same color as her 'All American' cocktail, reflected far more depth and intellect than Estelle would've guessed.

Estelle vaguely remembers ordering the same drink as Trina, not regretting her choice even as it burned her throat on the way down, all for the sake of the beautiful laugh that escaped Trina's lips. The laugh was not the type of small, tinkling laugh that Estelle found fake in others. It was a loud, rambunctious laugh, one that showed that her presence was actually fun to be around. She delighted in the fact that Trina enjoyed her company.

Of course the drink was a whole other matter. Despite not usually using much alcohol, the drink had been changed to suit Trina's tastes. It was no longer simply an ounce of bourbon, it was eight, and Trina downed five of them like they were nothing. Not wishing to seem weak in front of the female, Estelle followed suit, seemingly impressing the woman. Even now, Estelle does not regret her seemingly suicidal actions. It was a while later, after many drinks, and a thoroughly engaging conversation, Trina pulled Estelle aside. Whispering into her ear, sending shivers down Estelle's spine.

"I promise you'll have a good time if you just follow me."

Estelle doesn't remember much else aside from that. She only knows that somehow sooner or later, she ended up well, here. A part of her hates to think Trina is the cause of her being here, hates to think it was all just a ruse for whatever criminal thing she did. Another side of her decides that no, it was most definitely Trina's fault and the fact that she didn't put in any effort whatsoever in burying her, pisses Estelle off. She's hungry, she hungover and gods, she's hungry.

A tempting smell wafts over to her and for a moment, Estelle forgets herself, only caring for revenge and sating this inane appetite. Food would come first though, of course. It smelt delicious, better than any other meal she had ever eaten. Then she would seek out her murderer and she would...what would she do? It didn't matter. As Estelle darts off to find the source of the appetising smell, only one thought remains in her semi-conscious head.

Trina Vaz, I'm coming for you.