. knee socks

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She'd even put the Advil in the back of the freezer, clumsily dashing about the tiny flat in a hurry to hide anything, or to keep it out of his reach. It was quiet, a slow inhale of breath on a cigarette did nothing to keep the food she had just eaten down. Her dirty cereal bowl lingered by the sink, the sink that she could see from the couch. Anxiety made the tips of her fingers swell, the blood rushing every which way, unaware of what pieces of her to service. Sinthia's gaze was bitter on the cigarette, allowing the ash to drop on the floor by the window before she threw it wide to the spring drizzle. The butt was tossed somewhere to the fire escape, but the window remained like a mouth to the city outside it, though she didn't have the time to admire the fact that she had been able to get it open. She'd tried to cover up this time. She'd tried a lot of things. The small nail of her pinky had been chewed down far, wrapped with a band aid, and now the young woman was onto pulling out her own hair, nerves shaken as they always were when it came to Jon Kaplan. When he stood in the door, too soon for her to mentally prepare, her face was blank as she stepped aside, almost unmoving if it weren't for the fact that she was chewing on the corner of her lips. He looked like shit, but she knew that would be the case. It was rare he lied to her about anything. "I hid all the drugs." music do i wanna know - arctic monkeys. location sinthia's apt. notes you wanted short. tagged @jonny