Chloe knows Hatter is a (milliner) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-07-12 15:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | hatter |
Who: Chloe Murphy
What: A mugging in Vegas
Where: Somewhere in Vegas
When: Recent
Warnings/Rating: Nothing, really.
Night had fallen not so long ago when Chloe was walking from the bar she had visited that night, intending on hitting a coffee shop further down the street before she went home, caffeine to counter the effects of the handful of drinks she had had while out. Drinking, always out, never in, was something she was doing more often as the months dragged on. Her sisters were gone and things had simply quieted down, which made the fact that the party at the hotel the most exciting thing that had happened to her in months a very sad fact indeed.
Her lips pursed in distaste as she shifted her purse to her other shoulder, and it was in those moments that things went from calm to something that wasn't so much exciting but terrifying. A grab of her purse, a hand against her shoulder to push her away, and Chloe let out a shout of surprise. Almost immediately, she whirled towards her attackers, fight or flight kicking in a reaction that was purely fight. This area of the street was surprisingly quiet, people either making themselves scarce the moment something happened, or her having just chosen a quiet street at the wrong time. No matter what had happened to leave her in this situation, she wasn't going down without a fight.
"Let go of the fuckin' purse, woman," a voice growled at her, her fingers holding tight to the strap as she dug her heels in to the sidewalk, giving another hard pull to the purse. Chloe let out another shout, pure anger flooding through her, and when the attacker gave another pull to the strap, she shot a hand out at him, long nails scraping his cheek, and that's when things went from bad to worse. She didn't see it happen, only felt the impact against her cheek, the world going briefly dark as she stumbled backwards, ankle giving way as she landed hard on the sidewalk on her ass. It was hard to put together the events that had happened, the sound of running footsteps quickly retreating, her face hot with anger, cheek burning with pain.
"Fucking asshole!" she screamed out at him, her voice suddenly choked with hot sobs. She brought a hand up to her cheek, fingers coming away bloody, and with a whimper, more of fear than anything else, she hauled herself up to her feet, her ankle tender, her pride bruised. "Fucking asshole," Chloe repeated, choking on the words, and then gratefully, there was the red blue flashing lights of authority approaching, and as she lifted a hand to shield herself from the headlights, she had to wonder what had taken them so long. What had taken the world so long to notice that someone needed help. This was why she didn't like accepting help, didn't like asking for it. It always came too late, after the damage was already done.
One of the officers approached, hands held out, eyes concerned. "Are you okay ma'am?" he asked, and she wanted to snap at them, to scream that no, she was very much NOT okay, but somehow, Chloe held her tongue and accepted the help that was too little, too late.
Hours later, statement given at the hospital they had taken her to to have her face looked at, one of the nurses asked if there was anyone they wanted to call for her. Her phone was gone, having been in her purse along with everything else she carried with her, and the only number she knew off the top of her head was the one she shouldn't call, but fuck everyone. There was no law against her calling, law against her going to a friend. So she gave them the name and number.
"His name's Neil. Neil Donovan."
And as she sat there waiting, Chloe looked down at her hands, blood-stained and scraped up from her fall to the sidewalk, she realised that something had changed inside. Castiel was long gone, and in its place was something decidedly strange, and it made her want to laugh. From one mess to another. Nothing went right for her.