πͺβ’ Standing in the alley, her knees weak and hands, bloodied with a glimmering red liquid that cling to her skin, shaking, her white shoes now stained with crimson on its soles, her vision blurring and unblurring.
He had come too close. Tried all the wrong things. And being drunk, in the middle of a schizophrenic episode was the last thing she needed in that moment when his hands had groped at her sides and tried to push her to a wall.
Powderβ Jinx βhad just killed someone. Barely even two alleys away from the discreet club on the edge of town that her school was throwing a party at.
She was just in her black shoulder-cut top, dampened on her chest with a sticky substanceβ her low rise, flared denim, dark blue jeans grotesquely splattered, and her knee was throbbing, her stomach exposed from the cropping of her shirt, belly covered in the same liquid that was strewn across the alleyway in gruesome fashion.
Yes. She had just killed someone.
Call her a murderer. Call her a villain. Call her a psychotic girl. But she wasnβt sure what to do with the information.
She suddenly felt incredibly sober, despite how much sheβd dranken tonight.