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"You don't belong her Frilly" Jeans said barely in a whisper.
The room smelled of sweet smoke and the layers of hard liquor dried into the carpet. She slid skillfully out of her sweaty bed in between Joker and Allie. Nights spent on the broken couch like this couldn't be counted and Jeans was right. No matter how many times she said it Frilly couldn't accept. She couldn't go home, not ever.
"What does it matter?" Frilly replied, typical. It was her usual response. Ordinary, the exact opposite of what an outsider would call this life.
She tapped out a cigarette a fumbled blindly for a zippo. There would be none hidden in the lace that barely covered her. Neon pink hair cropped at random lengths by the tearing fingers stuck up at odd angles and framed her face perfectly. Smeared honey bee stripes cut like blade along her cheeks. Everything about her was shocking,especially her mask. Dead skin sewn together with old hands that had done it for centuries. The very same hands had crafted the masks for the occupants of this appartment. Unnamed souls of sex and drugs scattered as bodies are in a mass grave. Only these were breathing, slowly but still alive.
Jeans clambered over the debries of mourned parties until she reached the aquantence that was Frilly. Just the nicknamed Frilly. Katelyn James.
"Frilly you should leave"
Again, like a broken record, predictable. Frilly wouldn't leave. Jeans knew it. There was no such thing as a wasted sentence, it all counted. It always did when every popped pill and drag could be your last overdouse. Then there would be sweet sleeping sweatless bliss. Well, not for them.
"Some people are cut out for this"
"And some aren't, you've never been at home so just go find home" Frilly could quote her easily even when her mind was still wandering along the body of Shakespeare. Shakespeare, the boy who made such a life seem like one at all.
"He agrees" Frilly continued as Jeans moved closer. Still quoting she spoke easily as Jeans' hands moved along her collar bone. "he says you should leave, it wouldn't change a thing"
"Shh" Jeans whispered her lips pained with ruby red lipstick brushing Frilly's gently. Her tongue snaked out and into Frilly's mouth tasting of vomit and ash. Frilly forced herself not to choke. As her mindreading was faked so was the intimacy. Jeans had no interest she simply wanted Frilly to shut up.
"You were lying" Frilly whispered as a response. She was loosing the fight, ordinary, expected. Her finger nails traced well worn in patterns along Jeans' back.

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