Parties and late night drunken states meant everything when it came to Clover Paige; especially if it meant leaving her wild thoughts behind and losing herself in a bottle of Jack Daniels. Her name is just an illusion, you would think anyone named C...
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"You will always be fond of me. . . I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit."— Oscar Wilde
NOBODY IN THEIR right mind would be wandering the streets at two in the morning, especially in this part of town. Clover was the exception to those group of rightfully-minded individuals, though. The young brunette was still feeling the effects of all the alcohol she drank earlier that night, and any bystander could see that from the way she walked.
Clover's heels were no where to be found, which was a slightly good thing due to her wobbly knees. She chuckled loudly at the way she moved, reminding herself of Bambi on ice. The sound of her laughing was the only thing ringing in the dead atmosphere, which was odd considering thugs and criminals roamed the sidewalks during these hours.
The girl began humming a tune to herself as she aimlessly continued to walk further into the city's depths. Sober Clover wouldn't have dared cross these streets, but intoxicated Clover simply did not give a fvck.
"Mhmm. . ." She made constant noises under her breath unknowingly, and if there were people around, it surely would've brought unwanted attention. Clover danced in circles amongst the concrete. The rough surface rubbed against the balls of her feet, turning her toes and skin a bright pink color. Later she would feel the pain from the cracks and jutting pieces of cement, but for now she remained numb.
Clover's hand was wrapped loosely around the bottle of whiskey she had claimed as hers. Upon waking up inside the banquet hall, drool and all, she decided it was best to leave. Although the party was still thriving with life, she no longer wanted to surround herself with snobby people and their highly held heads. Perhaps she shouldn't have gone to that party, but once the thought of Stefano popped back in her mind, she smiled.
God, he was such a sexy Italian man, Clover thought. She gave herself a high-five, connecting her palms and creating a hollow whack! Clover was proud of herself.
Completely lost in her own thoughts, Clover failed to realize that the sidewalk was coming to an end. Soon enough, a fancy gold fence and gate came into view, along with a long, dark driveway. There were no lights, except for two statues whom held a source of energy within their stone bodies. Because of this, the drunk girl fell, hard.
"Jesus —" Clover said, her hands bracing her fall. Her green eyes connected with a small pile of mud, which now coated her black dress in patches. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "God dammit."
She stood up from her crouched position and picked up the bottle that dropped along with her. Clover shook her head and cursed the dirt to hell. She also flipped it the bird, forgetting that it wasn't a legitimate thing and couldn't respond back.
