03 | twisted on twitter

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jm.gothamgossip in Gotham we let crimes get away for free. Today we talk about Zara Marriott connections with drugs, crime and sex. See article: http://.,www.gothgossip.daily:zara-marriott-drug-history.com

user she's been honesty about this?
User has she?!? She only comes clean when there's accusations!!!
User1 wasn't there an investigation on all of those? accounts of stalking

orlovaoswald her history has been out for years?
damianwayne stop stalking her!!!
timdrakeoffical dami is jealous!
officially.zara ok but that's kinda cute, I want what these have @timdrakeofficial
orlovaoswald @officially.zara mommy?!?
vgarcía dami is loosing his girl
officially.zara @orlovaoswald I'll adopt you
orlovaoswald step on me
officially.zara no baby girl
not.jason.thot girl is gone af
damianwayne @timdrakeofficial @vgarcía die
officially.zara I have that affect @not.jason.thot bet you do too


It was safe to say Zara Marriott was a social media obsessed model. She lived her life deep in twitter, instagram and eating disorders. A once drug addicted barely living girl was now Gotham's most prized possession.

Gotham was always at the throat of someone, previously two teenagers and now an eighteen year old. Zara was used to Gotham jumping down her throat every couple of weeks - wether it be about her old drug addiction or the colour of her clothes (zara learned the hard way that red laces are not cool but instead racist) or the brand that sponsored her.

Zara wasn't well educated in anything but looking pretty, starving herself and whivh brands made her manager most happy. Her previous drug addiction had come at his manipulation, much like most other things in her life.

Her phone buzzed and buzzed, twitter was once again plastered with her addiction from a couple of years ago. It really had no affect anymore. Minus the fact she wouldn't touch crime alley with a six foot pole and one hundred weapons. Maybe a bit extreme but, her parents had forbid her once they became aware of the situation.

There was a room in her own apartment she couldn't walk in anymore with out finding old syringes or her old drug equipment. She hadn't quite managed to buck up the courage to part from all her past. Every part of that room had a history.

Her phone vibrated a bit harder, the sound of her manager calling her echoed. She snatched the phone of the table, answered the call on loud speaker and threw the phone else where.

"Yes?"

"Zara?!"

"What?" There was often distaste in her voice - she utmost hated her manager, he was nit picky, mean and obnoxious. He touched her when she didn't want to be touched, made her starve and eat in front of mirrors, and exercise far to much. Zara was practically a walking skeleton.

"We're having a meeting tomorrow."

And then taht was it. No details. Nothing. Simply meeting with no time. Good job she had no friends to go out with tomorrow, or no life to live. Men!

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