The walk up to her room was one of shame. Bra, holster and boots clutched in one hand, the other shoved in her pocket. She unlocked and pushed open her door, sliding in to drop the pile right by the door. A long sigh let out as she surveyed the room. Hand raised and rubbed at her neck. Bruises forming. Her hair a knotted mess, scalp a bit soar. A shake of her head and she went for the bathroom.

Shower was turned on and let run. She needed it hot. Hot enough to burn. Hot enough to wash it all away. Another long sigh let out as she leaned against the bathroom wall. What had she been thinking? The fall... the fall was quick, divisive. The fall had happened overnight. One day she was a happy, productive citizen with friends, with love. The next she was a cold blooded killer. Sleeping with her ex's sister's husband.

Betrayal. That was the stink she was trying to wash off. Burn off. Get rid of. Betrayal of everything she had thought she still had. This hurt more than killing. This hurt more than lying. A dip in acid. Eating away at flesh...

...but she had done it. She had wanted to do it. Blame it on the whiskey. Blame it on the heartbreak. Blame it on the absentness that killing brings. Blame it on whatever you want, but she had done it, and she had liked it. He stripped away layers, and lay her bare. Saw through. Saw past. Something she needed.

Something she loved.

Chuckie could never do that. Break her down. Pick her apart. Just touch her, tenderize her, make her feel normal and alive. But -he-, he embraced what had died, what was eating at her insides like a cancer. Perhaps because he was full of it himself. Fascination... devastation... she knew she would do it again. Want to touch wings torn off, see the glint of gold in an eye. She hated herself for it.

Hated being the other woman. Hated being the destroyer of trust. Love burned like that acid on her insides.. that love for what the OCorrs did for her. That love for Chuckie and his childlike disposition gone bad. Ate her up. Bony fingers, so resembling -his- peeled her own clothes off--this time. Down to bone and skin where beauty used to be.

You should eat, Raye Howard.

That voice echoing in her head.

What are you starving yourself for?

But she enjoyed it. Enjoyed the pain. The shocking look of bone through skin. She was beautiful like this. Dead like this. Naked body stepped into smoking water. Let it burn, let it mark. Head rested on the back wall. She would stand there and promise herself. You will eat tomorrow. You will never do this again. You will fix things tomorrow. You will fix yourself tomorrow. You will eat. You will be true. You will stop the madness and tell Chuckie you love him. You will stop looking. You will stop living in the past. You will stop killing.

Promises, promises. And not a single one to be kept.