Sins of Sisterhood

13. Mr. Mysterious

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~ 13 ~

Rule 13:
If it doesn’t kill you, it’s fair game°

"Don't have to guess the color of your underwear
Already know what you've got goin' on down there
It's that lacy black pair with the little bows"

Charli XCX- 'Guess'

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🖤⃝🤍
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Before anyone asks, no, I'm not drunk. Sober as hell, actually. Been that way for thirty-six hours, which might not sound like much, but when you're counting minutes instead of bottles, it's a goddamn eternity.

Only three shots yesterday. No one needs to know. Jade would kill me if she knew, but hey... baby steps toward sobriety are still steps, right?  She'd already threatened to chain me to a radiator if I didn't detox before the party. Apparently, it's what you're supposed to do before family events. Two days and counting until Renee's birthday, and I have to hold it together so my mother doesn't spontaneously combust when she sees me.

11:58 p.m. The laundry room was my battlefield tonight.

I was contemplating just burning the clothes and starting fresh - it would've been faster than dealing with that damn machine. But no. I had to stay busy. A little mundane distraction goes a long way in keeping me from cracking open a bottle and turning off my brain. So, one sock at a time, keeping it together.

Mr. Mysterious had decided to take a breather from making my life his personal entertainment show. Seven days of silence. No creepy portraits, no weird shit happening, nothing. Just... quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your skin itch because you know something's coming.

My hands shook when I first unlocked my door earlier that evening. I stood there for five solid minutes, key hovering, before I managed to convince myself I was being ridiculous. Had to come back eventually, right? Couldn't keep running.

Okay, fine.

If we're being honest - and I do try, occasionally - I didn't just come back for laundry. Cade needed his USB drive and his lucky hoodie, the one I "forgot" here last month.

But mostly? Things with Dante were getting... messy. Too many mornings waking up to breakfast. Too many lingering looks that made my chest tight. Too many almost-conversations about feelings and shit that I absolutely did not want to have. And I don't do messy. I do simple. Clean. Uncomplicated.

Yeah, I know. The irony of that statement.

When you hide at Dante's place for a week - eventually, you run out of clean underwear. And excuses.

So that's why I am back in the place I pay rent on. Where the laundry's piled up, because apparently, avoiding emotional attachment doesn't wash my clothes.

The washing machine hummed away, providing a weirdly comforting white noise as I leaned against it.

The moon hung fat and bright outside my window - perks of having a top-floor apartment, you get one hell of a view. I cracked the window open, letting the night air slip in. It was cold enough to make me shiver, but I needed it. Needed something something sharp to keep my hands from wandering to that bottle of Jack I knew was still hiding under my sink.

Earlier I spent the whole day with Raven, hunting down the perfect Maleficent costume for Renee. Because, yes, Renee demanded to be Maleficent on her birthday. And, yes, she's already perfected the scowl.