✔Sᴇx. ✔Aʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ. ✔Dʀᴜɢs.
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Asses will be kicked and wigs will be snatched.
Tonight's the night.
With one final sigh to calm her battered nerves, Kaylah slammed the door of her open car and strutted towards the pounding base, flashing neon lights, and reeking, humid atmosphere of cheap beer.
It was eleven so the party was at its prime, but that party was going to stop the second she walked through the door. She was going to strut in, take control, command the attention of every single peasant in the room, and steal the party away from the four plastic fakes that dethroned her. She was Kaylah motherfuckin' Madderson.
The Queen has returned.
Her white, five-inch, crystal heels clapped against the drenched, black asphalt as she crossed the street, and with no lingering pause she set out to conquer with two sharp knocks on the front door.
She knew better than to walk in. Madison, her ex-best-friend, would do anything to keep her out of this party, even if it meant getting one of her little clone henchmen to watch the door and act as bouncer.
The door opened with hesitation at first, but once the small girl at the entrance saw who it was she straightened her back and sneered- seemed like the bottom dog was happy to degrade someone else for a change.
"No one fucking invited you, Kaylah. Leave before you embarrass yourself even more."
Cute.
Kaylah smiled as she pried the door open from the girl's hands and strolled in, "Girl, if I were you, stop watching the door and watch your hairline. It's such a wreck State Farm can't even save it."
The poor sweetie was one of many to be curled into the wake of Kaylah's verbal destruction, but she should have known better than to get involved. There was no one Kaylah could not criticize or slay. Like how some acclaim to have the "superpower" of detecting liars, she had the eye to expose vulnerabilities and insecurities.
Brewing the tea was her greatest side hobby, so it wasn't by coincidence she was Monroe High's Ice Queen.
With head lowered and snatching a Mike's Hard off the counter, she kept a pair of eyes peeled on the laughing and intoxicated blonde across the room while weaving through the stumbling, drunk bodies of hormonal hyped teens in a sea of pheromones. It was only until Kaylah reached optimal shouting difference that she stopped.
First things first, though. Kaylah wasn't as drunk as she needed to be, so she downed the drink in one go.
Now she was ready.
"Madison Ivory Porter!"
The room fell to a hush, and the crowd that once surrounded Kaylah scrambled out of sight like a herd of cockroaches fleeing under the counter.
If the party wasn't lit by now, it was on it's path to ashes. With two of the most renowned cutthroat savages of Monroe High heading into the ultimate showdown, the gates of Hell itself opened and laid down the heat- heat that you would never see on some mediocre SoundCloud mixtape.
