If you know her, than you know that sheâll laugh lightly beneath her breath as she assures you that itâs âjust oneâ from her emergency pack, and only because sheâs âhad a long dayâ, all the while blowing the smoke from the cigarette directly in your face. Her brunette locks will fall in front of her face, disheveled and forever messy as she shrugs off your question about her day. Sheâll act like itâs nothing while flashing a megawatt smile, assuring you that the INSANITY of her day to day life is normal. Sheâll act nonchalant, but youâll know that she secretly thrives off of it, that the fact that her life is falling apart is the very thing that drives her to survive.
If you donât know her, then sheâll look like nothing more than a young woman standing outside of her place of employment, enjoying a smoke break as stress lines lace her features. Sheâll carelessly use the sole of her red bottom heels to put out the small flame as she drops the butt to the ground. The insanity is simply part of who she is, however, and she wouldnât survive without it.
If you know her, than you know that if you follow the clicking sound of those same red bottomed shoes, that often times itâll lead you directly into the single man bathroom of a hole in the wall bar near her apartment. She looks like a million bucks as she spreads out her expensive little habit onto the marble sink countertops, manicured fingernails separating the thick white lines until sheâs satisfied with their perfection. Youâll watch as the pad of her finger closes off one side of her nose, pressing firmly against her nostril as she leans downward, eyes closed in the exact moment that the heavy inhale is made, pulling the DRUGS into her system. She chose an upper tonight, and you know she had a reason for it as she leans in for the second line, all hesitation lost from her movements as her only goal is to feel good and forget it all.
Youâll fall in love with the laughter that falls from her lips as she straightens her posture, the same way she fell in love with the drugs that induced that whimsical sound. If you know her well enough, then youâll have paid attention to the insides of her elbows and the little scabs scattered about her skin. Theyâre faded, almost as if sheâs worked to overcome her addiction, when in reality sheâs simply moved to a less noticeable place on her body to inject the downer, knowing well that her perfect demeaner is important to her brand, whatever that might be.
If you donât know her, then sheâll seem like nothing more than a party girl spending her night doing drugs off the dirty counter of the public bathroom. The normal sight of a broken girl just trying to survive. The drugs are simply part of who she is, however â the upper giving her life, while the downer allows her to sleep, to truly forget who she is and all of the horrors that plague her.
If you know her, than you know that thereâs very little self-control when it comes to her vices, despite the fact that she will blissfully pretend as though vices arenât a part of her life, shrugging off the sheer mention that she might rely on something other than oxygen to survive. The drink in her hand will tell a different story as her manicured fingertips raise it to her lips, blood red stain from her lipstick staining the rim of her glass as her first sip quickly turns into generous mouthfuls, which then turn into a second drink, and then a third, and then a forth, and so on. She needs the ALCOHOL to get through her life, needs to find the bottom of the bottle until her vision blurs and her body gives out on her.
If you donât know her, sheâll seem like the typical alcoholic â a bright smile on her face as she denies the fact that sheâs drunk, all the while stumbling over her feet as she scuffs up her red bottomed heels. The alcohol is simply part of who she is, however, and in her world, thereâs nothing better than finding the bottom of a bottle of whiskey before letting her world blur to black.
If you know her, than you know the expression that graces her features when even the simplest thing goes wrong with her underground business. When the girls are lined up a minute too late, when the girls for auction arenât made up to her standards or thereâs a stray piece of thread on one of their outfits. Itâs an expression that could kill, but itâs also an expression that shifts into a twisted smirk as the bids are made. The VIOLENCE is what makes her underground business thrive, and knowing that sheâs helping make her clients dreams come true â despite how bloody and brutal they might be â is enough to make her continue, even during moments of weakness when she remembers the type of person she has become, the type of person that the business has turned her into, the type of person that she is.
If you donât know her, then sheâll seem like a typical business owner, thirsty for power and hungry from the fact that she found such success at a young age. Sheâll claim it hasnât changed her, and maybe it hasnât? You didnât know who she was before the success, the violence, and the power, but you have a feeling that she enjoys it a little more than any one person should. The violence is simply part of who she is, however, and even experiencing it herself wasnât enough to pull her out of the game.
On the outside, sheâs a typical girl living a fairly good life â but on the inside, sheâs a broken soul who thrives on her vices as a means of survival. It wouldnât be enough to live a life without them, and while she wouldnât recommend her own lifestyle onto others, it has been the very thing thatâs kept her alive, thatâs kept her surviving.
