POV ✧ HARRY STYLES
Cooking meth is simple, really.
Methamphetamine. Highly addictive. Impacts the nervous system. Snorted or smoked. Sometimes injected. To create this lethal concoction, there's a few things you'll need to gather. Hydrochloric acid, Lithium, Acetone, Toluene, Pseudoephedrine, Red phosphorous, Sodium hydroxide, Sulfuric acid, Anhydrous ammonia. Some of these ingredients are used to dissolve roadkill or rubber, so save it for your customers. Never get high on your own supply.
Every corded studio booth was reduced to destruction. Microphones implanted into the walls were torn down and bent. Soundproof lining was torn to shreds. Scattered papers became confetti with my vigilant ripping. Each inch of this foresaken place was now fractured.
"Let's stop at Livia's office next," I nodded towards Clio.
"Don't you think this was enough for the night?" Clio objected with a voice of reason, but I was far beyond logic. I wanted so badly to tear apart my life and watch pain unfold. Whatever I held inside should be shared with those who've wronged me. I couldn't stand this industry, growing up in the spotlight has put irreparable damage to my soul. I can't rectify my broken pieces.
"She'll never learn, so we might as well have our fun,"
After Clio had drove us to the studio from the A.C. event, I riled her up to tear back the hard flesh and blanketed tender heart. She wanted to be more like me, relentless. It felt good for her to break this place down into similar pieces her heart fragmented to. Clio belonged to a similar industry, a structure that set her up to be a product. All we both really wanted was release.
Inside the private studio was layers of my creative process caked across each surface. My old guitar pics and blunt ash enveloped the space. Near a tattered lamp was an item out of my possession, a thin bible repleted with annotations. I grabbed it before Clio could investigate further.
"You're religious?" Clio questioned, seeing me grab the small book adorned with a golden cross on its cover.
"More spiritual," I lied, "It's part of a 12 step sobriety program."
Carefully, I make the booklet disappear into my pant pocket to avoid further questioning. Those margins contain far more than what I'm willing to divulge.
Materials needed to execute this recipe are commonly found in your home. You'll need distilled water, small glass bottles, Tupperware, scissors, coffee filter, measuring cups, and proper sterilization and hygiene equipment, such as disposable gloves. Remember, the process is highly flammable. It's best to have a quick exit and fire extinguisher on hand.
"Fuck, she has so many papers," I palmed through the stacks held on Livia's desk. We kept the lights low to dim our indiscretions. I nonchalantly began shattering picture frames and desk items with quick drops to the floor. Clio began to jolt at the sudden impact, but warmed up to the idea of destruction.
"You're so bad," She claimed.
"Bad, bad, bad. That's all I am," My words slurred.
"You've done unspeakable things,"
"Speak them, tell me wrong and dirty I am,"
"You're damaged, aren't you?"
Clio walked a fine line of brutal honesty and sincere observation. I can't say she was particularly wrong, just a little explicit.
YOU ARE READING
RIDE ✧ {H.S.}
Fanfiction"Please,-" He moaned into my flesh. His tattooed hand caressed my just below my ribcage, creating butterflies in my stomach, "Or is this as close as you'll let me taste?" "Remember this feeling," My breath hitched and I felt like I was loosing balan...
