[Gatsby is glitter and glitz and glamour. It is a constant party, a constant high, a constant flow of liquor in her veins. It is getting lost in everything that everyone expects her to be. It is forgetting about a little girl at home, or about the man that reviles her existence in his life. It is about the buzzing in her mind, and the whispers of thoughts every minute of every day. It is booze and drugs and pretty people doing some not so pretty things.
Gatsby is escape.
MK has used this to her advantage as of late. The frivolity of Gatsby makes it all so much easier.
All of it. Her fiance who doesn't love her, a niece who loves a coldhearted doctor more than her broken aunt, the
loneliness, the thoughts of strangers prodding into her brain. She's gotten a little better at controlling when she
wants to, but most days? She doesn't want to. She just wants the sharp taste of whiskey on her tongue and the opium highs that filled her brain.
She finds herself one day dragged to some show that she's too high out of her mind to even comprehend, dressed in
gauzy gray that makes her bright red hair and pale skin stand out, scars scattered up and down her arm covered up by make-up. But she sits there, fake plastic smile and dazed gaze at the stage, and she loses herself in the spinning performers and the music. And then, she sees a familiar flash of blonde and her face falters. She squints, and she tries to focus on the thoughts, but she can't suss anything out. The plastic smile melts into a frown, and when the show is over, no one wants to even
deal with that expression. They know, the friends she cultivated here know that the redhead has a darkness lingering, and no one has the patience to deal with that. So MK drifts, searching for a way to find Wren after the show is finished.]
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