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Exhausted, I blinked at the cherry red vinyl I was sat on. The sofa seemed like an antiquity from an alternate dimension. I held a strange resentment towards the thing.
"So glad you could make it." She said, her lips tilted up in a smile too vicious to belong to a girl so young.
With cold eyes and a colder tone, I replied, "Pleasure."
The single word seemed to spark something up within her, but she never let slip of what she was thinking.
Traipsing towards the minibar, she poured us each a drink. As I watched her slim fingers close around a bottle of scotch, I nearly shouted an objection. I nearly said stop. Thankfully, I was never able to let those words escape my throat.
Letting the liquid pouring into crystal, she spoke again, "It's been a while. Have you come to hate me?"
Yes. No. I could never hate her. I wanted to strangle her. I loved her. I would gladly beat her to death. She represented everything that I despited; she was selfish, conniving vermin. I would slit my wrist at her shrine if she asked me too.
"Just been a bit busy lately."
She hummed something, no words leaving her caged up neck. They didn't have to. I knew what she thought, she knew it was a bullshit excuse.
Quick as a bunny, she strode back to me. The glasses clutched in her hands. Red nails sharp against the crystal.
She handed me mine, perched herself on my knee, and sipped hers. Transfixed, I beheld as her head tilted back, vocal cords bared open. Her raven hair fell down like a river of darkness over her spine, her eyelids shutting over colour so pure it didn't seem human. She swallowed down her scotch in one go.
When she opened her eyes again, they met mine. Her signature smile cruelly curving her lips up.
Relenting, I gave in and downed my own scotch. The minute after the liquid slipped past my tounge and down my esophagus, I latched onto her throat.
Chasing my alcohol with something far more potent.
