Lethal

Chapter One.

I scoffed as I read yet another rejection letter. After wasting years of my life to earn a degree in fashion merchandising and marketing I was still unable to get a job; it seemed to me that the goal post kept changing with every inch closer I got to it. Things were supposed to be different; I'd had an internship pulled away from me at the last second, which threw me into a never-ending cycle of rejection. The rational part of my mind understood the problem, my field of choice had become overly saturated with the new batch of fresh college graduates, and even though I'd tried my best to stand out, no one seemed to see my talent. 

I grabbed a pin and added the letter to my wall of rejection. Just like every time before, I felt my jaw slacken with my craving for alcohol- what I needed most was a stiff drink and a night that I would regret in the morning. I decided to call my best friend Jericho in hopes that he could make my dreams a reality.

"Waddup ZaZa? Did you hear back from the fashion house?" Jericho's voice rumbled through the line and I willed myself to keep it together.

"They said that I need more experience; they can't take on a nobody like me right now." I sighed and twirled my hair as I looked out of my window. I lived in a studio apartment with a less than spectacular view of the building next to mine and every day I dreamed of making enough money to move out.

"I'm sorry Zana, maybe it's time to do what I told you. Use your social media to get some buzz and build your clientele through that. You don't like working for other people anyway." Jericho grunted and I could hear shuffling in the background, I assumed that my call had woken him up.

"That's a cute idea and all but I still need to make money right now Rico. Even if I did it your way I would still need a job to pay off the stack of bills in the kitchen." I told him, Jericho was lucky in that he was born with a job; his father owned his own marketing company and Jericho always knew that he wanted to work there. On the other hand I was a college graduate with some serious debt under my belt and no family to help me.

I constantly felt the walls closing in around me as doubts consumed my every waking moment. My sister and I always dreamed of becoming free of the pain and suffering that we'd endured through our childhood, we always believed that adulthood would save us. But that wasn't how life worked- I was still stuck in too many ways to handle. I reached for the bottle of gin that I kept under my bed and let the liquid transport me while Jericho and I spoke.

"You know I got you while you get your shit together, just focus on building your portfolio." Jericho always looked out for me, it had been like that since the first day that we met.

He met me when I was experiencing one of my lowest points; I had aged out of foster care and had a scholarship to go to university, I only went to college to have a roof over my head and was lucky enough to develop my love for fashion while I was there. Jericho met me when I was in line at Starbucks but didn't have enough money to pay for my order. After that, he made it his personal mission to look out for me and I knew that I could never fully repay him.

"Let's save the struggles for another day, I mainly called you to ask if you and Mari wanted to go out tonight. I wanna go out and have fun." I loved to party and sometimes struggled with having a healthy balance between going out and working. It was one of the reasons that I continued to apply for jobs; I felt like I needed structure in my life and I needed someone to tell me what to do - something to make me feel like my existence had a purpose beyond pain.

"I'm down. Hold on, lemme ask Mari." Jericho paused and I could hear him asking his fiancée if she wanted to go out. Mari was another good friend of mine, she and Jericho were a packaged deal and I loved her personality. Like Jericho, Mariana was a nurturer- I could recall countless instances when she'd comforted and supported me in the last four years.