Burning lipstick Stains - (chansaw)
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- Parts 1
With both hands pressed flat against the counter, Veronica could barely steady herself. Her head was a storm of dizzying chaos, heart thundering in her chest like it was trying to break free. The once-clean white t-shirt she wore now clung to her skin, ruined-deep purple bruises blossoming in jagged patterns across her body. She was screwed.
Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the wreckage. A handprint smeared across the medicine cabinet, clothes scattered like a forgotten afterthought, but what made her stomach drop was the lipstick stains. Bright, glaring red, smeared across the glass-marking it like some kind of damning confession.
Oh. God.
Did she... Did she really just sleep with Heather fucking Chandler?
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