a very special dedication to wimbug (who is forbidden from reading further at risk of spoilers) for having a HUGE influence on my writing development and being one of my fav people on the site. go read her work. or bug her to read yours.

okay, so before you read, I want you to be completely transparent with me this chapter. comment EVERYTHING. and if you can't put it into words then vote. bonus points if you do both.

love you guys. so much. enjoy (im lowkey crying because this chapter is finally coming out) - ann 💕 

Monica Pennington sauntered delicately through the crowd, her eyes searching for only one person amidst the swaying, drunken bodies screaming loudly to the music.

Lola Davenport.

She was easy to spot, her caramel hair catching the light of a strobe as it flashed over her snide expression. Beside her, Sophie glowered at the red haired girl approaching them.

"Bathroom. Ten minutes," Monica said into Lola's ear. It was much too loud for conversation in the club. Lola's lips lifted in a snarl, which could have easily been misinterpreted as a smirk to those around them.

There were two possible points in time that turned Lola's opinion of Monica from adorable to dangerous. Either when Monica fucked her boyfriend, or when Monica started calling the shots. At the moment, the latter was making Lola's blood boil. Monica could tell.

Mon tossed her flaming hair over her shoulder as she walked back into the throng of people. She loved the ambiance, the atmosphere of freedom and lust oozing from the party-goers around her. But, even so, her stomach was turning. She was much too sober. It was happening too often lately; that feeling of craving something more to dull her mind.

As she waited at the bar for another vodka soda, a voice in her thoughts was gnawing at her brain, creeping over her shoulders with a weight that could almost suffocate her. Chloe hadn't spoken to her in just over a week.

"Interesting," a voice spoke into her ear before she had even managed to capture the attention of the barman. A hand snaked over her arm and down to her wrist, where a diamond bracelet was clipped.

"Just take it, Max," Monica hissed, discretely unclipping it and pushing it into his palm. Max was trying to put away money, particularly the kind that didn't show on balance sheets, even though she knew he had a six-figure bank account. She eyed him warily.

His fingertips played with coils of her hair as he leaned in intimidatingly close. "Francis isn't happy with you."

"You can tell him that I don't give a flying fuck," she snapped. "Where's Maddy?"

"Last I checked she was trying to fuck Sophie's cousin," he snorted.

Monica rolled her eyes. She knew Maddy didn't fuck half the boys she claimed, but even so, the boys still saw her as a mindless machine of seduction. "Order me a drink."

"Yes ma'am," Max said as Monica turned away, her eyes narrowed.

"Anyone would have thought we followed your instruction," Li yelled over the music as she slipped past a dancing couple and caught Mon's attention, her red lips parted in a broad grin. "Since when was Max anyone's bitch?"

Monica laughed. At least there was one sane person around tonight. She'd concluded long ago that Li was harmless. Another sheep in the flock.

A shudder tightened Mon's stomach. She'd left Chloe a note in her locker to ask if she wanted to come tonight as a bid to reach out. But, she'd also hoped she would decline it. Seeing Chloe here would be a nightmare. She wasn't at all surprised when she'd just ignored her, but... part of her was clinging to the hope that she might just show up.

"All you have to do is flirt," Monica said, almost forgetting the expectant expression of the girl in front of her as her mind traveled to her best friend. She raised her eyebrows, a knowing glance flattening her freckled features. "You're the expert at that, right?"

Li reciprocated her knowing look before flipping the topic. Of course she would, she'd never want anyone to overhear Monica's insinuation as to the reason she passed her classes. "I hear you've summoned us to the bathroom."

"Yeah, I need to—hey, Mike!"

The attention of the photographer only yards away turned to Monica, his brown eyes amused, the lens of a camera following the direction of his gaze. "What do you want, Red?"

"You only call me that because you don't remember my name," Monica said with an accusing look.

"I call you Red because it suits you. Red is the color of passion." He gave her a suggestive look before raising his camera and videoing her snide smirk.

"Oh please. Red is going to be the color of your blood when I punch you in the face," she said, but of course she didn't mean it. She just liked to tease. To flirt.

"I'll use this as evidence when I'm pressing charges," he said, grinning.

"Mon—I'll be right back, I swear I just saw Piers head out the door!" Li said with urgence.

Monica went to grab Li's arm and tell her to wait, but she'd already slipped away. She sighed, shooting a glare in her direction, and turned back to Mike. "Don't you have a job to do?"

"Yep," he said, looking through the huge piece of equipment sitting on a stand over his shoulder. "Doing it right now."

"Go perv on someone else," she said with a girlish laugh, sticking her hand up to shield herself from the lens as she turned away and walked in the opposite direction.

The jumble of people crammed into the club was enough to have Monica on a high. After all, she'd always been a people's person. Well, most of the time. Her life was balanced between silent moments with Chloe, where she could be whoever she wanted without an ounce of judgment, and being around others, where she could be the social butterfly she'd always longed to be.

She couldn't have both. And besides, the time when Chloe was without judgment had long since passed. She hated level one.

Monica paced back to the bar, where Max, guarding two drinks, was chatting with a scantily clad girl. She didn't hesitate to slip through to his other side and take one of the drinks, reveling in the sharp taste of vodka as it greeted the back of her throat.

A flash of golden hair told Monica that Lola had returned, and she was about to remind her of their agreement of meeting in the bathroom. But, Lola beat her to it, making a beeline towards her as soon as she met her gaze.

"Nothing stupid tonight, right Monica?" she hissed, her eyes ducking to where Max stood beside her. Getting the message, Max raised his hands in innocence and paced off, the girl he was talking to in tow. "If I—or anyone—see you playing with things that aren't yours one more time you're dead. Do you hear me? I will ruin your life."

Monica blinked dumbly before reverting to her coping mechanism. Fearless on the outside, careful on the inside. Her mask lifted with a little smirk, her eyes narrowing in curiosity. Inside, her heart was pumping at a careful beat, the fight or flight instinct in her mind warning her to run.

For once, Lola was alone. Her psycho blonde best friend was probably busy terrorizing someone, and Li, who was slightly less blinded by adoration for their queen, was also absent from hovering by her side.

"Careful, Delores," Monica warned, her smirk cocking into a charming grin. The thing is, unlike the countless people who had challenged Lola Davenport in the time Monica had known her, she didn't hate her. In fact, she loved Lola. She loved her status, her confidence, and the way that anyone would listen to her. She loved her so much that she wanted it. All of it. "If I didn't know any better I'd have thought you were jealous."

"What are you playing at, Pennington?" she hissed, her cheeks rosy with the flush of alcohol and her lips stained with a shade close to blood. Her lipstick was the same tone as Monica's hair, and the same shade as the dress that clung to her skin so closely.

"Aren't games your favorite?" Monica asked, her eyebrows raising with innocence. She knew she was pushing it, and her mind was screaming at her to be cautious. To be patient.

Lola's eyes narrowed. Monica already knew that she was screwed when it came to Lola, ever since she'd naïvely slept with her boyfriend under the stupid impression that it would be an instant boost in status. After that mistake, Monica realized that if she couldn't be her best friend, she'd have to replace her altogether.

After all, popularity was always a dream for Monica.

"Bathroom, ten minutes," Lola mocked, an echo of Monica's words earlier.

"Fantastic," Monica replied, just as Lola strutted off after one more venomous glare.

When she was out of view, Monica downed the rest of her drink and ordered another. Double shot. And then another. And then, after three more drinks at the bar by herself, she went to find her next target, uncaring that ten minutes had long slipped away.

Francis and Will were outside according to Zach, who she'd bumped into while patrolling the club for them. Like always, Zach had been busy following Max around like a lost puppy, watching from afar to hear about how his latest hook up was going. Their friendship was odd, and Monica often pondered whether they had some other kind of connection.

Zach would be devastated when he realized Max was secretly saving up to run away. He'd confessed it to Monica over a bottle of rum a few weeks ago, a secret sworn to be kept. She was the only one he'd told, and he made her swear on her life she wouldn't tell. And she wouldn't. Unless it became useful.

When the cold air hit Monica's almost-bare chest she instantly wanted to return to the heat of the people inside. But, instead, she crossed her arms over her torso and stepped towards the two figures facing away from her by the edge of the elaborate building.

Both of their shoulders were clad in black blazers that made them appear way broader than they actually were. Well, at least in Francis' case. She'd seen his chest bare before, and it wasn't much special. As for Will, though, everyone already knew he was fit.

"Hey," she said, capturing their attention. As she approached she nonchalantly plucked the cigarette from Francis' fingers just as he went to take a draw.

He narrowed his baby blue eyes at her, cocking his head just a little, either in annoyance or amusement.

"What are you doing out here?" Will asked, breaking the silence.

"What, am I interrupting boy talk?" she asked, blowing out smoke from between her lips and handing the cigarette back to Francis.

"Yes, now hurry back inside," Francis answered, raising an eyebrow at Will.

"I was trying to get everyone together," Monica said with a dramatic eye roll. "Why do you two have to be so antisocial?"

"Why do you have to be so annoying?" Francis' eyes crinkled in an entertained smile. The expression was a dangerous one. Because Francis only found entertainment in dark things. Fucked-up things. She'd learnt that early.

"Fuck you then," Mon said, her tone light as she shoved his shoulder playfully.

"I'm going inside," Will said with a sigh. He was always the party pooper, the sensible one who was somehow resistant to her flirting. Monica suspected he had a secret girlfriend, but if he did he never left any clues.

Monica and Franc watched him as he retreated back into the club. Then Monica felt a hand around her waist pulling her into the crevice of the old building.

"Being difficult?" Francis whispered into her ear, his hot breath smelling of bourbon and mint.

"You wish," she said back, daring him to push his limits further. "You love it when I'm difficult."

"Actually, it frustrates me," he said roughly. "To no end."

"Well then show it," she challenged. Even if he was merely an asset to her, he gave her an adrenaline-filled rush that turned her abdomen to jelly, and the alcohol was finally starting to play with her mind in the best way possible.

"Out here?" he asked, cocking his jaw as he gestured to the people yards away from them, waiting in the line to the club behind the red velvet partition. "I have to say, it's almost like you want to rub it in my girlfriend's face."

"Fuck her," Monica said dryly.

"Careful," he cooed, leaning in so close that his chest pressed against hers, her back hard against the stone. "She's my best friend."

"Best friend," she mimicked. "If you love her so much why do you want to fuck me, then?"

She knew she'd crossed a line when his expression turned dangerous, his face ducking closer so he could whisper harshly in her ear. "Because sometimes even the ones you love you have to keep in line."

And then he kissed her, his lips rough and uncaring, cold against her flushed features. It was just like Francis, a businessman at heart, to control even his most intimate interactions.

Mon's hand snaked under his jacket and wrapped around his back, digging her nails across the cotton of his shirt, pulling him closer. And then there was a flash, and Francis shoved her to the side.

"Mike, I'm going to fucking kill you!" he said with fury, his tone filled with a rage that made Mon's skin crawl as she found her balance.

"Wow, sorry man," Mike said, raising his hands in innocence. "I honestly didn't know it was you—I was just on my break and saw Red so I thought it would be—"

And then the camera was snatched from his hand and thrown to the floor, a Stefano Bemer shoe stomped down on it for good measure.

Monica knew better than to stick around when Francis was furious. She grabbed her purse from where it had fallen to the ground, and as she briskly walked away she took out her phone and began drafting a text to Mike.

You fucking idiot. You don't use flash! I'll pay for whatever shit he broke, but you owe me big time. I was relying on you.

Just like countless others, another plan crumbled to dust, falling to the floor beside her Valentinos.

She was going to have to get desperate if she wanted control over Lola by summer.

Monica returned to the bar, waltzing through security and ordering another drink. Just as she leaned back and waited for it to be prepared, a wandering pair of hands wrapped around her waist.

"Monica!"

Maddy Danton was drunk, Mon could tell both by the way she slurred her voice and the way she manipulated Mon's hips to sway in sync with hers.

"I've been looking for you," Mon sighed, checking her watch. "Come to the bathroom. Lola's supposed to have stuff for us."

This caught Maddy's attention, her knowing grin wide. She gestured over Mon's shoulder to the bartender, raising two fingers in an attempt to double Mon's order.

When they both had their drinks, the girls went to the bathroom that Sophie had indicated as exclusive to members of their circle. It even had a coded lock on the door, the pin provided courtesy of her cousin.

Monica could already feel the high. The relief that was to come, the one that would suppress the worries flitting through her chest, laughing at her and all the mistakes she kept making.

There was a time when Chloe so easily took that away. She'd laugh, and tell her she was stupid for worrying. She'd fix every problem with a few words.

Now drugs did that just as well.

She followed Maddy into the large marble-tiled room, the mirror illuminated with a series of lights along its frame. Instinctively, Monica stood before it, examining the makeup spread from her lips and the slight smudging of mascara on her left eyelid. They were easy fixes. The red flushing her cheeks from her anxiety was not. Or, at least not yet.

"You bitches better thank me," Lola said as she entered, her glower fixating on Monica. But, for now, Maddy was her safety blanket. Lola would never let anyone know her status was being challenged, which meant when those with lesser rank were around, Monica was safe.

"What have you got?" Maddy asked, dropping down from the counter where she had been propped.

Just as Lola opened her purse, Sophie and Li entered through the door, followed by Piers, Max, and Zach.

"You know, anyone would think we were coming in here for an orgy," Max joked as he crossed his arms and leant against the wall. "What's so important?"

"Ask her," Sophie said dryly, nodding to Monica.

"I just wanted to say thank you to you guys," she said innocently, the attention bringing a rush of adrenaline. People weren't often quick to listen to her, the pale red-head girl who was easily mistaken as plain. To have almost all of level one looking at her brought a flush of joy to her cheeks.

Only, her plan had been rattled. She wouldn't have what she needed on time. Her mouth ran faster than her plans did.

"I've never had real friends before," she blurted. Chloe.

"Well, that's lame," Maddy said with a vibrant laugh.

"Shut up," Monica snapped, nudging her with her hip. "You guys are just so fun. I want to get a big photo with you all. Before we all get too drunk."

"She's already drunk," Lola murmured to the others, her distaste showing clearly.

"Not yet," Monica said quickly, looking to her purse suggestively. Her words had already stung though, her mind flashing back to when Chloe had yelled at her for drinking around them again. You're acting like an alcoholic.

"You guys are meeting here for drugs?" Piers asked, a disappointed look on his face. "I came in here for drugs? You girls are crazy. I'm out. If you want a photo get Mike."

"You're crazy, Mon-mon," Max said with a snort, reaching forward to ruffle her hair. "Sometimes you make no sense."

"Sometimes the crack speaks for her," Sophie agreed, but as the three boys left, she remained leant against the wall.

Monica felt humiliated. She hadn't meant that at all. She just wanted everyone's attention.

A sealed bag was pressed into her hands, its plastic cool against her skin.

"Here, crazy," Lola said, her gaze cruel. "If you had any sense you wouldn't have it. Maddy told me you were already high this afternoon."

Monica looked to Maddy accusingly. Her humiliation doubled. The condescending way Lola had spoken made her feel so stupid. She was in control, but that was the problem. Didn't they understand that? That she just wanted to follow her desires rather than overthink them all the time?

"Watch her," Lola said, one more disgusted look trailing on Monica's frame before she gestured to Sophie and Li. "We'll be back later to do some, maybe."

And then it was just the two of them.

Everyone thought Monica was crazy. She wanted to prove them wrong. She wanted to prove them right.

She opened the bag of pills and held it on offer to Maddy.

"Maybe later," Maddy said, rubbing her elbow. Without Lola's disapproval, Maddy would have jumped at the chance to join her. But now, she was just like the rest of them. "I mean, I don't want to crash too fast."

"Seriously?" Monica asked with a hysterical laugh. Rejection burned her chest. "I'm the only one that wants to have fun?"

"You should wait too," Maddy insisted. "We can do some later."

This wasn't what Monica had expected. She'd expected the girls to act how they usually did, for them to laugh and insist on living in the moment. For them to toast to their youth and their large bank accounts.

She was supposed to have pictures of her and Francis to use to torture Lola by now. She was meant to be enjoying the attention while they all gained more and more respect for her.

But she just looked like the crazy girl.

She wanted Chloe. Chloe always adored her. She never made her feel small.

"It's okay, I'll just have a little now to see how it is," Mon said, her voice weak despite the forced laugh. "I can just meet you on the dance floor. Order me a drink?"

Maddy looked skeptical but she shrugged and grabbed her purse. "Sure, let me know how it is."

"Oh, I will," Mon assured her.

But when she left the room she sunk to the floor, the cool tiles biting her legs. Her head hurt. She wanted to feel numb. To feel electrified and giddy and high. To dance, and seduce Francis, and one-up Lola. To laugh with Maddy and bitch about other girl's outfits with Sophie.

She reached into the bag and grabbed a pill. She was going to halve it, to only do a little like she'd said, but it wouldn't be enough to get her through. She downed it with water from the tap and then started applying powder to her cheeks and face, examining each angle in the mirror.

She felt dizzy. Hot and cold. She ignored it.

And then her vision started bursting with stars. The last thing she saw was the pout of her lips in the mirror, and then the ornately carved roof of the secret bathroom as her body started convulsing.

It wasn't malicious. It wasn't intentional. She didn't mean to. It was a bad pill. A bad situation, alone on the floor as her limbs seized, her best friend's face flashing before her eyes. Chlo was cradling her head and crooning strings of words into her ear as bubbles of bile overflowed from her parted lips.

At ten twenty-one, two girls entered the room. They looked at each other in horror. And they knew they were the only ones who had access to the room. They knew they'd question them, they'd find where she got the drugs.

They couldn't have that. Two rich girls with rich parents and reputations to uphold. Lola Davenport and Sophie Rutherford left the room, Sophie disarming the door as they did so. They crossed their fingers that someone would find her, but didn't think of it much more. She was just passed out from the drugs. She'd come around.

Maybe if she'd made it to the hospital sooner, she'd have been okay.

At ten fifty-eight, a drunken couple stumbled into the room, hoping for a hidden place to get it on. The sheet white girl on the floor shaking in a pile of her own vomit, her scarlet hair contrasting to the white marble around her, knocked them from their lustful embrace.

They called an ambulance.

At eleven thirty-two, the widowed Mrs. Pennington arrived at the hospital, her daughter said to be in a critical state. She cried. Her daughter didn't do drugs. She was supposed to be at her best friend's having a sleep over.

She called Chloe twice. She wanted answers. There was no response. They were pumping Monica's stomach, and she didn't know whether to be angry or sad. She was hysterical.

At one fifty-eight the following morning, they tried to resuscitate her.

But at two-nineteen, Monica Pennington was pronounced dead.