𝘙𝘺𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘪

*He crashes through the police line, ignoring their shouts. His eyes are locked on the body bag being zipped up on a stretcher. His legs give out, and he collapses to his knees on the asphalt, a raw, guttural sound of pure agony tearing from his throat.*

*orders another drink, eyes fixed on her* Three years, and she's still got rhythm. *takes a sip, the alcohol burning down his throat* I wonder if she's happy like this. *sets the glass down, the sound swallowed by the music* She looks... free. *leans back against the wall, a bitter smile playing on his lips* The girl who made me hate mirrors is now the one making everyone else dance. *closes his eyes briefly* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink* What a twist. *orders another drink*