STARTED JAN 2023--
MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT. Viewer Discretion is advised.
Priscilla Pearl Wolfe is a Pornstar.
Halen Elle used to be.
That is until the apathetically charming jackass with a back pocket full of guitar picks and skittles moves...
"But I can't help the way I feel..." ♪Cry • Cigarettes After Sex. Gentle Trigger Warning; Talk of Self Harm.
HELLO
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I've never been one for believing in superstitions, or acts of God, or even fate, but there's something particularly sickening and sinister about the blood of my now dead roommate dripping between the lips of Halen and I as we were about share our first kiss.
A kiss of Crocket Manor crime might I add.
A sin in the Romantix Roommates house bible.
I feel horrible for so many reasons in this moment.
Zara was someone I knew and trusted.
We weren't friends, but I ate with her, talked with her, lived with her, slept with her. She was a beautiful woman, a talented, sweet one, and now she's being carried out by paramedics in a body bag.
I haven't a clue what's going on. But, I'm rattled to my core.
Fox kept it hush hush and took only Halen and Santana upstairs to interrogate the tenants of the third floor and identify what happened.
But, soon, they were all sent down, shaking messes of grief, Santana with them, looking like he'd just seen the Devil himself. It's safe to say it was an accident or other, or else there'd be a lot more commotion, not to mention, a murderer on the loose.
Britney was too shaken up to say much of anything and when the ambulance arrived, Scott and Santana escorted her to the hospital with the paramedics. She was having a severe panic attack, she couldn't breathe, and I felt for her.
I wish there was more that I could say to comfort her, but I know how useless that is after someone you care for, dies.
I hate that I'm not in the loop too, but as of late, I don't handle things well, so I'm thinking I should take this as a sign of fate as well, stay with the others, and be grateful that I'm here and not up there.
"It's okay, Daisy. Just breathe," I rub her back as she blubbers uncontrollably on the couch, heartbroken.
"I just can't believe this. Oh, Zara," She sniffles, shaking her head in distress as she lowers it into her hands, "She was such an angel. Her family, her poor baby brother. There's nothing more tragic. I miss her so much already."
"I know." I frown, leaning my head against hers.
I hear a huffing sound and my eyes track it to Rick across the room who stands leaned against the wall by the window, snarling in pitiful disgust at Daisy Mae's loud crying. Loud crying that's completely fucking allowed.
"Zara died and you're still over there pissy in your corner 'cause someone's crying? There's a special little highchair in hell for you, you fucking child." I spit in disgust, "Show some goddamn respect."
