𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨́𝐧 𝐈𝐯𝐲

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟓.

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯
'Killer,' Kali Uchis🎶🎧

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐯
Ivy entered her office, a palpable aura of apprehension etched across her features. She masked her unease, bowing her head and wearing shades that secured the dark shadows beneath her eyes that spoke volume of her sleep deprivation. Ivy made sure to adjust her black wool scarf, not only to keep it in place but also to conceal the bruises on her neck left by Smiley's violent act of choking her. The weather may not have warranted wearing a scarf, but the purple marks on her neck screamed for it.

After the previous night's revelations, Ivy propped herself up in bed, striving to piece together the night's unspeakable events. She wrestled with a sense of shock and denial to accept that she was actually getting used to a killer's touch. Defying Smiley's predictions, she felt no remorse, and that was the most unsettling part to her. She recognized that she might be experiencing Stockholm Syndrome, but that wasn't her primary concern at the moment.

Smiley was her main concern.

It was unmistakable that Smiley was deliberately edging her, a strategy that Ivy found quite displeasing. Despite her pride preventing her from openly asking for more, and her hesitation to intensify the situation, Ivy simply couldn't ignore the excitement of the chase. It was almost impossible. Though she found the whole thing somewhat distasteful, her indifference prevailed. The more Ivy tried to distance herself from Smiley's influence, the more she unwittingly added fuel to her own fascination.

Her relentless contemplation of Smiley was beginning to bring in a pounding headache. Amidst battling with her difficult emotions for a serial killer, she was also submerged in a deluge of fashion shows and designs to create in a short span of time. Ivy's approach to her craft was both meticulous and precise; she might adore a sketch one moment, only to scrap it the next, sending her back to square one.

Shedding her black heels, Ivy eased into the plush comfort of her office slippers. Grabbing her purse off of her desk, she rampaged through it, before pulling out a small bottle of Tylenol. Two pills tumbled into the palm of her hand and she quickly popped them into her mouth, swallowing them dry in a quick gulp with the help of her saliva.

"I could really use a drink," Ivy muttered, sinking into her office chair. She rummaged through the file drawer and eventually pulled out a bottle of expensive red wine. In that moment, Ivy couldn't care less about not having a wine glass or any cup at all. With a twist of her wrist, she unscrewed the bottle cap, sending it flying across the room, completely disregarded by Ivy. She brought the bottle to her lips and took a long, satisfying swig, drinking and drinking until she felt a renewed connection with reality.

Ivy didn't even think twice about the fact that it was only noon, way too early to be diving into a whole bottle of wine. It wasn't about drowning her sorrows or escaping reality for her. Instead, it acted as a trigger to jolt her awake and shake off any lingering thoughts she didn't want in her mind. With each sip of her bold red wine, she let her creativity flow, sketching new designs. And to add to the ambiance, she played the soft tunes of Kali Uchis' "Killer" in the background, creating a soothing atmosphere.