Jem and the Holograms, and all related trademarks, are the property of Hasbro, and the creation of Christy Marx
Chapter Eleven
Roxy needed a smoke. Nothing was better at helping her relax than one of her beloved cigarettes, but her last pack probably went up in flames with the rest of her stuff when the van did.
Fuck...
Truth be told she was still a bit agitated, even after destroying everything in the room. Raging on like this usually helped her blow off steam, but this time it didn't seem to work. Right now she felt like she was a tiger trapped in a cage, ready to claw her way out.
Maybe a good, stiff drink would help. It usually did when she couldn't smoke.
She made her way to the door, stepping over the shattered and broken remains of just about every object in the room, stopping mid-step in the doorway to look over the destruction she had wrought.
Nothing had been spared from her wrath. She had torn huge chunks of the mattress with her band hands, while managing to chuck one of the nightstands right through a window with ease to land who knows where. Both a makeup table and accompanying chair had been smashed into kindling, while the mirror itself was now a millions little shards spread all over the floor.
Truth be told, the ferocity of this particular rampage surprised her. She had destroyed stuff before while pissed off, but this time seemed...different.
The rage driving her on this time seemed to be burning longer and hotter than any she felt before. It just kept on simmering, refusing to go out.
She knew where it came from - Oh, did she know - but like her Aunt Judy would say, "Ya gotta' calm the fuck down sooner or later."
She wished Judy was here with her right now. She could help her make sense of any of this vampire shit Pizzazz had dumped on her. Or at least hug her and tell her it was going to be alright, like she used to.
She stepped into the hallway, looking on both directions before heading to the left, since the other end of the hallway ended in a dead end. She stepped passed the room where she had left the other Misfits, the door still wide opened.
Someone, possibly Pizzazz, shouted "Roxy!", but she just gritted her teeth, and kept right on going. Right now she was in no mood to face the band leader right now.
She found the stairway and stomped downstairs, where she started her search for booze eventually lead her to a combination library/lounge where there was...a bar!
Lucky for her there were no locks on it anywhere, so she could just rifle through it, finding - much to her satisfaction - that it was fully stocked. She eventually picked out a bottle of bourbon whiskey, popped it open and started taking swigs. She reveled in the warmth she felt with each drink, finding that it did indeed help her relax. She leaned against the bar, her back to the door, and stared of into space, remembering how Aunt Judy first introduced her to the wonderful world of alcohol when she turned eighteen.
The fact was that Judy had introduced her to a lot of things. Taught her a lot of things too. Hell, she did a better job of raising her than those poor excuses of humanity that were supposed to be her parents; they couldn't have cared less about her, seeing her as only a nuisance in their pathetic lives.
Fuck'em!
Judy had been more of a parent - a loving one - than they ever were, and right now she'd give anything to have her here right now, helping deal with all this. But that was impossible unless Judy figured out a way to come back from the dead.
"Roxy?"
She whipped around to face the door, and found Pizzazz standing there in the doorway, with Stormer and that purple-haired girl -What was her name? Oh, yeah, Clash - standing behind her. Pizzazz had a neutral look on her face, while the others had looks of uncertainty on theirs.
At the mere sight of her band leader, a fresh wave of anger flashed through Roxy, and without thinking she flung the bottle across the room, aiming straight for Pizzazz...