something in the air | { heartbreak kids }

She felt... dirty. It was a senseation she'd felt before, waking up and not recognizing the face sleeping next to her. She was no angel, not by a long shot. But it'd always been a choice that she made and regretted. This was different. This was an entire country watching into her bedroom window while she changed, completely unaware. This was humiliation. And until that moment, until his hand fell onto her knee and she wasn't allowed fucking punch him in the face, Reagan had always maintained some level of power over everyone she'd come in contact with. Her indifference was a strength. It made them fight to gain her notice, or fuck off entirely. Which meant she was always either flattered by their attempts at impressing her or pleased that they'd read the message and ceased to exist to her.

She felt powerless now. Which wasn't convenient, considering she needed to be stronger now than ever before. She did her best to wipe the smears of mascara from her cheeks when she heard someone's voice on the other side of the stall doors. It probably wasn't any secret what she was doing in there. Another person who saw her lose her strength, who'd remember her in this moment when it counted, not in any others. This was her undoing. This single second of vulnerability was what made her go from a threat in someone's eyes to beatable.

She swung the door open and climbed onto the sink, crossing her legs as the other girl struck up the cigarette.

When she offered it to Reagan, Reagan took it.

"Fuck them. Fuck him. Fuck all of it. I've survived way worse than that, you know?" she sucked her teeth, raising her hands in the air, miming a puppet on strings.

"They don't know shit. They've never experienced shit. And then they wanna parade us around and, and try to shove us into these stereotypes that are outdated as fuck. Angels and Tough Guys and Sex Symbols. They're fucking perverts, Dude! Look at how these girls are dressed! Look at-" she looked down at her ensemble, at her exposed legs and midriff. At the dainty fabric barely covering her chest.

She scoffed, finally taking a drag of the cigarette before handing it back to the girl.

"Thank you."

Her moment of weakness had passed and she forced herself to be composed, deep inhale through the nose.

"Reagan, by the way."