like this (open)

[SELENA IANTHE KOZMA]

Everyone likes her, she says, eyes wide, fingers tracing the moles that go up the woman’s arm until they reach her breast, where they stop like someone wiped them off of her body with a damp rag. Tense. Dry. She brings the cup to her lips, inhales the contents with a certain timeless grace. She feels them rising in the back of her nose. Someone knocks at the door. Dismissing herself in a flurry of embroidery and lace, she pulls open the heavy oak. Hector isn’t home, the house is quiet and his absence is notable. She flicks on a couple of light switches as she leads them to the great room, open and wide and lifted into the sky with soaring ceilings and paneled glass. On the bar counter, there’s a mirror with a couple of harmless lines. Lena bends to edge her straw over to them, inhales deeply.

Yum.

After everyone and their brother march their asses through the door, she stands in the mirror to the rhythm of Radiohead’s Creep and pulls her shorts down so she can see her thighs. They don’t touch. There’s a good inch and a half of space between them, and she runs her fingers over both sides to make sure it’s not just a trick of the light. It isn’t. Pulling her shorts back up, she makes sure everything is in place, ruffles her hair with numb fingers and sniffs to rid the traces of cocaine at the bottom of her nose from the last three lines she sniffed. It’s cold. It’s really cold.

She pushes open the door, stands in the hallway for a minute as the song comes to an end and switches to a popular melody. People sing, it reverberates to where she’s standing and for a minute she hangs on the wall because everything’s spinning. She doesn’t remember putting this music on her iPod. Someone calls her name. She looks.

bitch is wearing this.

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[annabelle]

It’d been a while since she’d done something like this. Felt the lightness of alcohol mixed with drugs drawing through her veins. Their toxicity addling her mind and bringing her to this almost orgasmic state as she stumbled through the corridors, her eyes failing to focus on anything but the obscure sharpness of her own shadow. Smiling like a Cheshire cat, the pouty girl found herself opening a door. Her own curiosity had taken over. It had pulled her in to this Alice in Wonderland state where she fell through open doors and watched mindlessly as everything danced and dizzied around in front of her whilst her hands reached out to try and grip on to something, anything. Anything that would brush under her fingertips was her friend. Amigos.

The girl couldn’t quite remember entering this party. She couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten herself here. Taxi. Walk. Rode a bike she’d found at the side of the street. Perhaps it was any of the above or something more obscure for the resurrected party girl. After her split with an ex-colleague, Annabelle had found herself slowly shrinking back in to that girl that had had such a bad name for herself.

Subconsciously pushing the strap back up of her dress, Anna stumbled in to a room with an iPod and looked around. Noticing a girl with an almost equally small frame as herself, though she towered over her with ease, Anna walked over to her. On closer inspection it was evident that the girl was beautiful. With her delicate features and liquid blue eyes, Anna found herself drawn to her. To Anna’s large, bug like eyes this girl had the smaller cat like ones and though she looked fragile to the touch her piercing eyes showed an innate strength that warned others to be careful. She was like a bug, something beautiful on the outside that made her so delicious to the taste but sink your claws in to her and the poison would ooze out.

Lena. The name rolled off her tongue without a thought. A socialite. The girl from the tabloids. Their names would often be put in bold in the same column though they’d never officially met. Lenaaaa. Anna giggled, her body edging forwards as she looked over her again. Her eyes rolled upwards with their childlike excitement twinkling in them, the cocktail of whatever it was had made her body warm despite the sub zero temperatures outside. And, whilst her mind told her not to, she could sense that longing to be touched creeping up her spine again. That horrible tick that fed off her body, the one that insisted on being fed regularly, was ready to bite again. It needed the endorphins and testosterone to breathe again, needed the dopamine to feel alive. Her bright blue eyes darkening ever so slightly, the girl’s finger rose as she reached out to touch the girl whose face had graced those paper rags. I’m Anna.

[/blockquote]

[SELENA IANTHE KOZMA]

Her eyes blurred and she grabbed for the wall again, missed, tried once more and latched onto the corner. Every step she takes is perpetuated by a series of stumbles and when she can finally stand up straight, she lets out a soft Oh at the proximity of the other girl. She can't remember her name or her voice but she knows she's seen her before, probably while paging through the few and far between magazines she's been in with her rambunctious circle of friends. A slow smile drifts over her mouth, the gap between her two front teeth obvious and glaring at the other girl as her smile grows wider and wider until she looks like her face is about to split apart. It's scary. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stops, frowns briefly.

Even though she's fucked up beyond repair, even though she can't remember her own last name or her brother's name and who in the fuck is Zane, a hint of Chanel No. Five drifts through her mind and suddenly it dawns on her who Anna is, and why she's important and why she's there. She smiles again, but it doesn't split her face like she wants it to because she's no longer in control of her mouth. It spews, like a hole in the middle of the earth, molten chunks of verbose lava, “Waldgrave?” it's incredible how she can remember that but it's the Hamptons so everyone knows everyone else from when they were in diaper days and she doesn't, usually, so she just goes with the flow. But Anna's name she knows. Anna fucked Hector on a weekend when Lena was in Greece and they hang her red lace panties on the doors when they want privacy as their own private joke. “I know you,” she says and her words slur, and she tilts down again, righting herself before she falls. She doesn't like falling.

“You're tinier then I thought you would be,” she says, rubbing the back of her hand across her nose again, eyebrows furrowing and suddenly she's three again and she's too tall to play with the other kids, and it occurs to her that she hates her height more than she hates short girls. She doesn't have to raise her hand very much to push Anna's dark hair away from her face and she does it carelessly, throwing it over the girl's tiny shoulder. Her other fingers move of their own accord to rub her thumb over Anna's lips and she grins, leaning down to undo her shoes and take them off. It takes a while. She kicks them aside. “There.” closer to the same height. Five inches off of her scrawny, tall frame.

bitch is wearing this.

[/blockquote]

[annabelle]

Anna watched with hypnotized eyes as the girl swayed to and fro in front of her, the large gap between her two front teeth becoming a prominent feature of the girls elfin like face. She could sense the parasitic longing flowing towards her brain. That’s what happens when you’re drunk. That thirty percent or so of your brain that belongs to the animalistic basic instinct sense takes control and everything you do is to survive. Mating. Fighting. Dominating. When you’re so fucking out of your head, so drunk that you can barely spell your own name let alone someone else’s, you just fuck. You fuck until you can’t breathe, till your heart feels like it might implode if you try and mark your territory anymore. Anna was so familiar with this feeling that it had become her second nature now. She couldn’t count the lovers on one hand that she’d had since she was fourteen. Denver, Travis, Connor, Jarrad, then it all became hazy…There had been a Matthius or a Matthew there too. So many boys with so many different names, their muscles so strongly gripped around her body as they laid her down before them and attempted to prove their dominance to her. Then there were a few girls, those little pixie like girls who wanted to try and turn her. To prove to her that they were, in fact, the ones that were going to be her one and only. She had said over and over again that she was straight yet, when there was no one else to whet her appetite around, she’d go after a beautiful young woman.


Nodding to the beauty before her, Anna giggles lightly. Waldgrave…Such a fucking ugly name…Grave…So sinister and it doesn’t fit me. Not at all…I’m more of a…A…I don’t know. She laughed again, forgetting herself and the company she was in. I’m more of a Jones or a Riley, don’t you think? Maybe an Astoria…Anything chirpier than Waldgrave The emphasis she stressed on the second syllable of her own name was almost spat as she remembered the characters that made up her family. Her cousins, the ugly little doll that she’d so fondly named Coke. Coked-up Claire was the blonde girl who was clawing away at Anna’s crown, trying to make herself more known and better than the brunette who was obviously never going to willingly hand her title over to her. Then there was Carter, loved up Carter who had not a fucking clue that his fiancé was just another power hungry misfit in their world. He worshipped the ground she walked on and turned a blind eye to the scraps that the two would regularly get in to. Her brother, Nate, was possibly the only one she’d trust wholly. Merely because there was no girl there for him to favour over. Yes. She nodded because the girl did know her. Anna was the little slut that would turn up on the pages of magazines and tabloids with her dress ridden up her thighs, her top cut dangerously low and her eyes confused as they looked in to the glitter of the paparazzi’s flash. I fucked your brother. Anna giggled, placing a hand on the girls shoulder to steady herself. Her laughter like bells pealing, Anna tried to calm herself before she lost it. Lost her prey for that night.

She felt a sudden thump as a shoe was taken off, her eyes now not having to look up so high. Blinking as Lena swept her hair away from her face, the girl rubbed her lips together and smiled again, that vacant smile that had always entertained the cameras so much. It proved there wasn’t much to her mind but it also showed the love she’d always displayed for every single project she had. You’re so tall. The barely five foot five girl frowned. Like…A Barbie. Reaching out to her, Anna pulled her forwards and hugged her. She loved the feel of someone else’s arms around her, the steady feeling it brought. Safety, insurance and a sort of net to keep her from trouble and the outside world. She couldn’t remember how many arms had been pulled around her just recently. Quite a few, their bodies entwined in the sticky sheets they’d just made love in, had seen her at her worst though they had been far too polite to mention the relapse that was occurring. They simply complied to her needs and vanished again, some didn’t even leave their numbers just in case their girlfriends or other halves picked up the call.

[/blockquote]

[SELENA IANTHE KOZMA]

Lena leans over and kisses her forehead, pulls herself away from the hug and makes sure her shoes are out of the way before she finds herself climbing up on the sofa in the hallway, the leather slipper under her cracked heels. She doesn't like pedicures. The concept of people willing rubbing her feet makes her queasy and she's prone to slapping them away if they try, much to the dismay of her very, very classic brother, who believes to the end that women should be pampered and taken care of to the best of the leading male's ability. Lena sometimes thinks she hates him for it, but her hatred is overshadowed by the blind adoration she finds in regards to him; he's the only man she knows she can love that will never leave her. She pauses for a minute to watch the room still and settles her gaze on Anna, taking her in. She's small, cute, compact. Tiny. Tinier then she looks in the four inch heels that she always wears on the magazines the Kozmas get shipped in by the boatload. Her eyes pop out of her head and she's got a big mouth. She's very, very symmetrical. Lena wants to run her hands through her hair again just to feel the texture over the open palms of her sensitive hands. She doesn't. Instead, she pushes away from the couch in a jump that brings her close to the low ceiling, the dropped alcove of the floor rising up to meet her as she tucks her knees and lands, wobbling on her feet as a playful grin falls over her lips, hair strewn all about and makeup running but she doesn't care. She finds it hard to care when she could be doing something stupid like streaking around the house with Anna. She totters over to the other girl, slides her hand around her forearm and finds satisfaction in the way her thumb and forefinger nearly overlap around it, and drags her to the couch she's just jumped from.

“Jump with me,” she orders, forcing the girl to either jump or awkwardly hold onto a jumping girl as the couch springs sag beneath her slight weight, and she giggles to hear the groaning wood. When she was little she used to jump on all the furniture, pretend that if she touched the ground, punishments would involve a sinking, burning sensation and a profound slap to the face by the hands of God, who would inevitably take away her Polly Pocket dolls for such a crime. A chill runs through the house and she stops herself from bouncing, steadying the other girl as well so she can attempt to hear over the sound of the music, but it's gone silent, she realizes, and she can hear everyone's voices still screaming despite the apparent lack of music to accompany their cacophony. Her head spins. She jumps again, ignoring the darkness that they've become submersed in. She notices it's cold, she thinks maybe it's just her. “Are you cold?” she asks, rubbing her hands up and down the other girls arms while they jump to see if the flesh is clammy the way she can feel hers growing. The voices rise. She's swallowed by a tide of symphony and noise and she stops jumping again, slides form the couch to try and turn on the light and quell the rising panic that's congregating in her stomach along with hunger and anxiety. It doesn't turn on. She hits the switch again. “I think the lights are out..” she giggles, trips over a trunk her brother insisted be placed in the hallway and falls backwards, laughing as her skull hits the ground because it's not light inside the dark corridors enough to see stars, “I can see my breath,” she says, blowing a stream of air into the moonlight that shines through a sliver of the window pane.

bitch is wearing this.

[/blockquote]

[annabelle]

Annabelle leaned in to the kiss, her perfectly silky lips brushing against Lena’s as her blue eyes fluttered open with that familiar twinkle sparkling within. She joined the girl on the sofa, the girls considerably smaller legs still no match to the slender pins that extended out of the girls outfit. If Anna had those legs she’d have never hidden them beneath a pair of tights or stockings. No, she’d wear her best heels and her best ‘fuck me’ underwear and seduce every man that dared to look her way. Her cellphone would be filled with pictures of her posing in her underwear, those innocent blue eyes smouldering down the lens as she smirked with knowing. She knew that men loved a pair of legs so slender and silky as Lena’s. Anna hadn’t felt the freedom of jumping on furniture for a while. In her High School days the girl would book herself in to another hotel under the name of ‘Marilyn Hepburn’, the sly smile she’d give as she peeked over her sunglasses would prove that she needed the privacy that the bogus name declared. Her friends would file in after her, their hands clasping the necks of champagne bottles and inside their bags would be little vials of white powder that would take them through to the next day where they’d repeat everything again. Schoolwork was for the poor, those who couldn’t pay their way through lessons and blag their little hearts out through interviews on how they were such good girls in school.

The penthouse suites to these hotels would open up for them and the girls would get so drunk and play games of strip poker. Their clothes would be in a discarded heap off to one side, their tiny little bodies modelling the latest Agent Provocateur, Ann Summers and Victoria’s Secret underwear. Their legs would spring up and down on the mattresses and sofas as they downed the last of their alcohol. Giggling, Anna would use the back of her hand to rub away the alcohol that had fizzed out of her mouth in a suggestive manner as she tried to drink more than her throat would allow. Her nostrils would flare, the little bit of white dust in the corner of her nostril a tell tale sign of what other underage and illegal activities she’d been involved with that night. At around two am the boys would roll in, their designer suit jackets discarded as they struggled to keep up with the girls already gone state. The boys would wrap their arms around the girls, their slightly stubbly chin grazing the cheeks of the girls they hadn’t yet ridden like a pony. Anna’s little fairy voice would wistfully whisper in to the boys ear Lie to me. Tell me I’m pretty. because she knew that in that state all she was was the weird, obscure little girl who hadn’t quite sprouted breasts yet. She was the girl that had the too big eyes for her face and the frizzy brown hair. She knew that her mouth was a little too large and her teeth a little too large. She knew that boys would tell her that she was the prettiest thing they’d set their eyes on in a while and she knew they were lies. They were passes that would get them in the fast track to her bed.

As they bounced up and down, Anna attempting to jump higher than Lena, she felt a cold air tremble through the house. She could sense a sinister lurking within her stomach as something wasn’t quite right. Nodding, Anna took a minute to work out what had changed. The music had died and with it so had Anna’s enthusiasm. Biting on her lower lip, a horrible habit she’d developed as a child, the brunette looked at her new friend. It’s freezing in here. She ran her hands up and down her arms with Lena and climbed off the furniture with a sort of ashamed sideways look to the gap toothed girl.

Confused about how things could just die like that, Anna looked around to see if other partygoers had noticed. A few, so high and drunk that nothing could penetrate their bubble, continued dancing whilst some looked around in confusion. Anna grabbed Lena’s hand as the sinister feeling returned. She didn’t feel safe all of a sudden. She needed the arms around her body to contribute to this sudden urge to go home. She wanted her safe warm sheets and her brothers annoying voice as he droned on and on to buyers in LA. She wanted her rabbit snuggled up with her in bed as she watched an old Marilyn film. I don’t like it. Anna said, her childlike voice almost a whisper as she tried to keep her voice at a lower level. The ringing in her ears began to drone out any other voices as she closed her eyes and forced herself to sober up.

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