Angel Petrova

vodka-soaked numbness II

Warning: alcohol/drug use. "Party" scene. Please do not read if you are easily triggered.

A heavy sigh escaped Angel's lips. Her hand continued to firmly grasp the door handle as she closed the slab of wood. Her head was tangled in a messy storm. She knew she should feel some kind of emotion for her brother's words: love, admiration, joy, sorrow, regret. Something. Anything. But she didn't, and that's what messed with her mind. She could taste the emotions on her tongue, the emotions she was able to experience so long ago, the ones she was unable to feel now. But, when the sunlight washed away from the blackening sky, so would her concern for loosing the last sliver of humanity she doubted she maintained. Angel's posture remained uncaring yet rigged. Her scarlett-colored heels clicked sharply and lowly against the creaking floorboards of the hall, as she made her way towards the staircase.

"Angel?" Her sister's familiar voice followed her. The blonde took a deep breath before turning to look at her twin. "Where are you going," Elena demanded. Her tone was harsh, commanding, and that made the blonde want to laugh.

"Out." Angel turned away from the brunette, but a hand grasped her shoulder gently.

"No, you can't. It's a school night." Angel grasped the brunette's hand and gingerly pried the slender fingers off. Turning around once more, she leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her sister's cheek.

"Just remember to breathe, sweetheart," she whispered, before continuing her way out the door.

Unfortunately, the brunette was not far behind. "Angel! You can't go! We need you here! Why won't you help me keep this family together!? It's like you want us to fall apart!" Angel stiffened. The two were now standing in the living room, three more steps, and Angel would be free.

"Elena," her voice was soft and clipped. "The more you try to fix this dysfunctional family, the more it will tether away. Let the pieces fall into place where they're supposed to." Angel walked briskly to the front door and towards her car. Tears had glassed over the doppelgänger's carmel-brown orbs.

"This isn't my fault," Elena choked out. "You're tearing us apart! This isn't my fault!"

Angel hummed, while sliding into the driver's seat of her car. "Darling, you're the only one who's blaming yourself. We know it isn't your fault, but you clearly don't." Not bothering to listen to whatever else her sobbing sister was sputtering, Angel pulled out of the driveway. She didn't feel guilty for leaving her saddened sister alone in the yard, she didn't feel anything. She didn't care. She was no hero.

After an hour drive, Angel could see the little bar that she had grown some-what accustomed to. The neon lights that dangled from the rotting shingles of the roof swiftly glided along the dirt-covered, rocky ground. Pushing open the broken screen door, she was welcomed with a sight she had grown to despise and admire. Music thumped loudly around the grinding people. Many were making out on the smoke-coated ground. The stomach-churning stench of tobacco, liquor, sweat, sex, and vomit drenched the peeling yellow walls. Loud cheering drew her attention away from the live DJ and towards the crowded bar; it seemed that people were doing body shots.

"There's my sexy devil!" Calloused, large hands latched onto her hips.

"Hello, Ronnie." Ronnie grinned widely. He was the owner of the Night Owl Bar and had taken a liking to Angel ever since she beat him in a game of Bet Your Liver. He was a tall man in his late twenties with jet black hair and cold grey eyes that always held a predatory gleam when she was around. His teeth were white and crooked, while his jaw was sharp and defined. A silvery scar ran from his right temple to his hairline; he told her it was from a motorcycle accident. Ronnie was pure muscle, and his tanned skin was stained with ink.

"You're late," he stated.

"I always am."

He chuckled and bit his pierced lip. "How about a few body shots?"

Angel shook her head. "No, not right now. I feel like dancing, but I would be eternally grateful to the person who could smuggle me a bottle vodka.."

His eyes lit up mischievously, "Eternally grateful, eh?"

"Mmhm," Angel hummed. He grinned and led her away from the door and towards the crowded bar.

"I might just be able to work something out." Ronnie let go of her, as he walked behind the bar and snatched a bottle from the top shelf. He leaned over the countertop and smirked. "Now, what will I get in exchange?"

Angel leaned over, bringing her lips an inch away from his. "I told you," she mumbled, while reaching for the clear liquid, "My eternal appreciation." She smirked as her fingers wrapped around the bottleneck, then brought the rim to her lips. The hateful burn slithered down her throat, and she couldn't stop the cynical smile that etched itself on her face. Pulling away from him, she shook her head and made her way over to the dance floor. Her hips swayed effortlessly to the beat as her dull eyes clenched shut.

"You're tearing us apart!"

"Fuck it," the blonde muttered. A heated body pressed themselves against her from behind, and she rolled her hips with his. As the songs continued, the dancing became more heated. Before she knew it, the stranger had her pressed up against a wall and smashed his lips to her's, and she kissed back dispassionately.

"Get off her," a deep voice growled. The stranger was yanked off her and thrown against the opposite wall.

"What the hell, Ronnie!?" Angel yelled over the blaring music at the man whose chest was heaving. His dark glare snapped in her direction, and she noticed the streaks of possessiveness in his gleaming eyes. He grabbed her by the waist and picked her up, carrying her upstairs to the little loft he lived in. Angel wrapped her legs around his hips and ran her liquor-coated lips along his inked neck, making him shiver and tighten his hold on her. The rest of the night was pretty much a blur to Angel.