token punk ~ trixya college/roommates au

thirteen.

Trixie wasn't sure how long she'd been in here, all she knew was it felt like an eternity. She'd shifted from blind panic to just hollowness, like she had never felt an emotion ever in her life. Luckily she'd managed to be quiet enough to not garner any attention from others, but now she was stuck, unable to move herself. She was also starting to feel super drowsy for some reason...it must be the drinking.

Was she ready to mentally address the issue yet? Not really. This also hardly seemed like an appropriate place if she was being honest (She was actually just looking for any excuse to hatefully reminisce on all the pain her ex had caused instead of actually maturely dealing with it, but we won't go there).

"Maybe I could just...sleep here-"

"No Trixie, that's fucking stupid" a second voice in her mind said, a familiarly vague Russian-American accent indicating it was Katya's.

"Not my internal monologue becoming your voice...I swear I can't go a second without thinking about you" Trixie sighed in response, exasperated at herself at this point.

"Aww, really?" Katya's voice responded gleefully, "You really are into me, Mattel"

"How observant of you, Zamolochikova. Real groundbreaking news there" She always groaned at the thought of liking someone seriously, but with Katya it was especially eye rolling.

"They didn't call me Sherlochikova in high-school for no reason"

The corners of her mouth suddenly tugged. The memory of Katya's seemingly stupid joke she'd made the other day making her actually feel something again.

"Look doll, we can flirt later. Where the hell are you right now? I've looked literally everywhere" Katya's voice asked with a palpable worry.

"I doubt you're actually looking for me...I wouldn't bother if I was you"

"Well luckily you're not me because I'm worried shitless" She spoke gently, the same tone she used when Trixie would trip up, or burn herself. The voice that made Trixie feel safe.

"Please just let me know you're okay...please"

Those words weren't Katya's. They were just her own pathetic wish fulfilment, a final ditch attempt to escape this hell she'd created for herself. The only motivator she had left was stopping that dumbass from panicking about her.

She couldn't push her away too.

Trixie's legs stood shakily as she clicked open the bathroom, revealing the somehow empty bathroom that lay beyond it. She shuffled to the mirror and, after some coaxing, stared at herself on the aggressively vandalised mirror.

"God, this is so...not it" the barbie thought, depressingly fascinated by the extremity of her streamlined mascara stains. She grabbed a couple wipes from her bag and attempted to make some amends, but she could only do so much at this point. Partly because the damage was so severe, but mainly because her eyelids were getting super heavy, obscuring her vision. Why the fuck was she so tired?

TW // drugging, attempted kidnapping

Trixie walked sluggishly to the door, swinging it with effort and staring out into the extreme party atmosphere. She had never felt so exhausted. Her legs moved forward somehow despite the weights that were chaining them down, and her eyes focused solely on spotting a familiar face. She was being convincing (or at least she thought she was) until she felt her knee give out slightly, causing her to grab the barside once again for support. The barbie chuckled slightly, remembering her previous fall earlier and how not drunk she had been at that time. But despite that, that Russian prick had still cared for her, even if it was more a formality than anything. What a cunt.