The Rules to Redemption

Chapter 7: Night out

Hey bitches,

I wrote this at like 5am.
I'm so fucking tired.
But enjoy the chapter x

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Entering the hallway to Sierra's apartment, I can't help but shiver from the cold air.
Who could I blame but myself for dressing like a hooker.
At least I'll be a hot hooker.

She opens the door almost immediately after my knock, greeting me before yanking me in.
I could have walked through the threshold bitch.
I follow her towards her room and fall back onto her bed not caring about the state of my hair which I had to brush down numerous times due to the wind.

"Pick one." She shoves two dresses in my face, they were both...outgoing.
If you thought I was going to be cold, Sierra is about to contract every possible type of influenza.

Doing the probability in my head, I randomly pick one of the dresses yet she differs my decision choosing the second one.
I'm rather offended.

She throws on her outfit in seconds before sitting at her dresser beginning drape herself in makeup.
My attention is drawn to her room, it was extravagant though not in the rich way. She had posters symmetrically plastered on her walls of her favourite actors as well stacks of vintage cassette tapes from every 90s artist you could think of.
Though my favourite was the shot glasses along with mini versions of every type of alcohol ever made on her desk.

The room screamed her name, it was as if she knew herself so well. You'd be surprised how hard it is to find that in a person. Most of us don't even know who we are.

I was sure I knew who I was, I was far to outspoken to not have an identity. Yet sometimes I wonder if I'm really who I want to be. I can never give myself an answer to that.
Tallia you emotional whore shut up.

"You're silent. Stop being silent you weirdo." She insults me.

What was I supposed to say? I don't do well with conversations, especially when I don't know people well.
"Do you play?" I point to the keyboard on the other side of her room.

"I tried learning for a month and ended up throwing it against the wall." She smiles with trauma. An expression all too fond to the human eye.

Cautiously, I walk over to it and skim my fingertips over the keys. I didn't play, not well at least. My father did though, I remember the vibration of the soft notes he would use when singing me songs as a child. I'd almost always fall asleep by the end of his performance.
I haven't heard the sound of it since then. He doesn't play anymore.
Unusually, it was just now when I noticed the extravagant nature of her apartment.
"This is a fine lifestyle for a waitress." I suggest.
I knew she was a drug dealer.
She has to be...or an assassin.
Either would be acceptable as long as she informs me of her connections.
"My parents are rich." She sighs.

"That's a bad thing because?" I raise my eyebrow at her oddly confused.
"I have no freedom. They have full control over my accounts since I 'live off their money'." She rolls her eyes.
"So I work two jobs to fund myself through fashion school and so I can finally be free of their poisonous ropes."
It was totally unexpected but in a sense admirable. I had assumed that Sierra had expensive taste based off her peculiar outfits yet that was just the product of her gorgeous style.
"At least you're a crackhead with taste." I mutter.

"Did you just call me a crackhead?" She raises her eyebrow at me.
Those words were not meant to be spoken aloud, "yes but you should take it as a compliment." I worm my way out of this.
"Really?" She suggests applying her mascara.
No.
"Ok, I'm ready let's fucking go." She violently grabs her purse from a single chair and takes hold of my hand dragging me through the apartment.