Friday, December 23, 2016


Bobby Derie

"Bitch, I'll cut you." Veronica muttered, tears running through her mascara. Betty laid her head against the brunette's shoulder, her pale dye-job mingling with the other's frosted tips. Almost absently, she laced her fingers with the other woman's, so that the scars on their hands pressed together. 

"Promise?" Betty whispered.


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