❛ 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ❜ ━ miguel o'hara

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

It's funny.

One moment, you're leaving a nightclub with your girlfriends at 4:03 AM, the electric billboards assaulting your vision with brightly colored advertisements.

The next, you find yourself bound to a chair with blood dripping from two identical puncture wounds in the flesh of your neck.

------

"Fuck, I'm an idiot." Alina groans, brushing her bedazzled nails through the ends of her long, silky wig. The gentle night breeze runs through her hair, causing a strand or two to get caught on her recently applied lip gloss. She frowns and pulls the hairs off of her lips awkwardly.

"Alec is an ass, anyway. Didn't you say his dick is the best thing 'bout him?" Imani speaks up, giving Alina a friendly squeeze on the arm. I walk beside the two young women, my tall high heels clacking against the pavement of the sidewalk.

We just left the bustling nightclub, worn out after a night of dancing.
Alina witnessed her so-called boyfriend grinding against some random bitch, sparking our current conversation. I can't say I'm surprised. I've never liked Alec anyway.

We strut past the restless traffic, the headlights of driverless cars illuminating our bare legs. Nights like these remind me why I love-- and hate-- the underground of Nueva York.
My nights are not lit up by the moon, but the purple and blue hues of the electronic billboards that adorn every highrise. I grew up watching glowing advertisements alternate between eachother instead of counting stars.
How unfortunate it is to hate the city, but live for the ambience.

Our outfits are uncannily similar. All of us wear bodycon party dresses, the tight fabric hugging our frames. I'm 99% sure I've given myself a blister from my heels, but I'm too scared to check.

"I think you need to forget about that piece of shit and find another guy. Don't waste your time on him." I slyly recommend, pushing my hands deeper into the warmth of my coat pockets.

It's exceptionally chilly tonight, and an occasional burst of cold wind sends shivers down my spine. I don't mind too much, though. The copious amount of cocktails and shots consumed at the club has warmed me up decently.
I'm feeling confident, dangerously so.
My mind buzzes with activity as I tune out the sound of Imani and Alina giggling amongst each other.

"You guys remember that drug lord who lived in that apartment building next to mine?" I interject, glancing up at my two friends.
Their conversation dies down instantly.

The two women stare at me with identical dumbstruck expressions, as if I had told them utter nonsense.

"You mean that abandoned building?" Alina questions suspiciously, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Yeah, that's the one. Two years ago the cops busted this massive drug ring, and I mean huge. This crazy fucking drug lord lived in the apartment building next to mine, and of course he was holding in his unit." I rant, retracing the faint details of the story in my mind.

Sure, maybe I'm stretching a few aspects of the story, but the alcohol in my system makes my drunken confidence seem completely natural.

"Yeah, so then what?" Imani inquires.

"Well, turns out, he had stashed his stuff everywhere in the building. Under floorboards and shit. The D.E.A. seized the entire property, and as of right now, it's abandoned." I lie through my teeth.

In reality, I have no clue if this place is completely abandoned. Hopefully the only people there, if any, are just homeless crackheads.
There is a rather tense moment of silence.