Fuck. How the hell did I end up here?
I don't mean 'here', now, sprawled on lousy floorboards in a lousy joint, being slowly choked by my lousy fake pearls. No, I mean what the fucking hell am I doing in this shit hole city?
Shellie helps me to my feet, steadies me on my stupid heels… Times like these, I wish I found her less irritating, but truth is she and every other person in this room – this whole goddam city, even – could go to hell and I wouldn't bat a powdered, spidery fake-lashed eyelid, or raise a blood red and perfectly manicured fingernail to help. I need a drink…
"Sure, sugah… go home and fix yourself a coffee, 'kay? Strong as hell and black as sin, yeah?"
Damn… gotta stop externalising. But it's true; I'm dying for a bottle of something cheap and sugary, a sharp blade and a dark, quiet place to hide. And although going home is off the cards, Shellie's offer is too fucking enticing.
Later on, lousy apartment, blinds drawn down to keep the half-light that passes for day out and my personal brand of darkness in. Things have stopped looking so hazy; bad sign. Means I'll start remembering who I am… and there's nowhere near enough alcohol in this whole goddam flat for me to crawl back into my dreamworld. No clean blades either – all blunt; all rust brown and clogged with scarlet teardrops. Nothing, then, to stop this deluge of meaningless sensation, nothing to deaden the pain.
Organs move like a squirm of eels, sledgehammer pounds away behind vacuum-sealed eyes, and everything becomes too real – the colours too bright to look at, the smoothest, softest texture like nails drawn slowly down my spine… The reflections in green glass are mesmerising, and I grasp madly at a girl who shares my face… She explodes into a million fragments and I stumble blindly, desperate to gather them all; to cup them in my hands and shield the frightened little girls who stare back. They embrace me, their love oozing hot, and wet, entwining my wrists. Waves of sticky crimson, the angel's fond caress.
Goodbye lousy city. Goodbye Kadie's, with your razorblade lights and lonely leering losers baying for ripe flesh. Goodbye Lola… it's been hell knowing you.