Postcards From The Underbelly
Curling Iron
Running my hands over my face and feeling the bordem set in, I wanted to scream so loud that I would break the windows. Glancing down at my wrist, a slow grin came to my face. "Oh I'll find something to do all right, stupid fucking bitch..."
Making my way into the bathroom, I fumbled around for a pair of sissors. One I found them, the maniac grin returned to my face. Lifting them to the band of misery, I tried to put all of my pressure down into it. The motion barly dented the collar and a frustrated groan escaped my lips.
Just how in the FUCK was I supposed to get this thing off?!
Raising my eyes to the curling iron that was still fairly hot, I lifted it down onto my wrist, letting out a howl of pain just as the door to the hotel room opened.
Making my way into the bathroom, I fumbled around for a pair of sissors. One I found them, the maniac grin returned to my face. Lifting them to the band of misery, I tried to put all of my pressure down into it. The motion barly dented the collar and a frustrated groan escaped my lips.
Just how in the FUCK was I supposed to get this thing off?!
Raising my eyes to the curling iron that was still fairly hot, I lifted it down onto my wrist, letting out a howl of pain just as the door to the hotel room opened.