THE NIGHTS THAT WERE consumed with screaming were the worst. those were the nights where she could still feel her mothers blood clinging to her like a second skin and the sound of her fathers laugh echoed in every deep noise she heard. those were the nights that she found herself at the nearest bar or the loudest house party, seeking any form of distraction that she could. drowning her sorrows in alcohol and letting every ounce of her body turn numb seemed like the only way to get it to stop, to get her mind to go quiet, to feel normal. but, one couldn’t exactly be normal when their father forced them to slaughter their mother.
this night was a bit worse than the others. ten shots in and she could still hear her faintly crying in the back of her head. her pleas and cries to stop cracking her ribs each time they echoed off them. so she obviously needed more. dainty fingers curl around the shot glass for the thousandth time that night, raising it to her lips and tipping her head back, throwing the unknown alcohol down her throat. the burn lasted only for a second, before that too became numb.
satisfied with the amount of nothingness she felt, she made her way out of the kitchen area, stumbling through the hoard of bodies. she didn’t know who lived here, but the house was gorgeous. bigger than the one she had growing up, before things went downhill, bigger than most of the other ones in the neighbourhood. hazy gaze dancing across the walls, taking in the artwork that was scattered around. whoever lived here had quite nice taste. but all great things must come to an end, and camille found herself ripped away from the wonderful world of art and beauty by the feeling of someones body colliding with hers. blinking herself back to reality, one shaky hand raised to rest against the nearest wall, steadying herself. “ sorry, “ she huffed, blinking again, once, twice, three times, useless attempts at clearing her vision. “ i wasn’t looking where i was going. “
