Chloe hadn’t been to church in years. Last time, it was with her father. She was barely thirteen and still believed in well, anything. Gods, ghoulies, ghosts— She kinda still wanted to believe in ghosts. Back when things were alright. Walking back there made her sick. The way the carpets were all the same, all the annoying whispering and staring from the old people and little kids row by row. They were acting like they hadn’t seen a girl with tattoos before, ugh.

But she had a bad hangover. Her head felt like shit and she knew well she couldn’t go home ‘less she’d be lectured or worse by her stepfather, and probably grounded to hell. (Was grounded the right word? It sounded way too childish. She wasn't a fan.)

Her first instinct had been to go into Rachel’s house, but well…

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Fuck. All she had to do was pretend to be normal for a second and get some good ol’ christian humanitarianism. She pretty much walked over to the first person who looked like a bleeding heart. Some modest looking girl with a cross on her neck who made Chloe look like a total raging degenerate in comparison.

“Hey, uhhh—” Chloe awkwardly rubbed her neck. She could feel the way she stuck out. “Do you guys have like, bathrooms I can throw up in? I’d take a bible but y’know, gotta respect the big guy or whatever the fuck. I just got a really bad uh, totally christian sickness, from pure activities.”

She probably had to take this seriously, but it’s not like she had any respect for the place.If she gets kicked out, she’ll get the same treatment out of a dumpster anyways.