Get your shit together, girl. She left the kitchen, but instead of entering the living room, she went down the hall and found the bathroom. She closed the door and locked it. The bathroom was a spacious mess. The clothes hamper was full and more dirty clothes were piled on the floor beside it. An unflushed turd lounged at the bottom of the toilet bowl and towels were everywhere—on the counter, the back of the toilet, the side of the bathtub—except hanging on towel racks. Latrice inspected herself in the mirror. She was wearing a navy blue sweater and grey slacks. The sleeves of her sweater had been pushed up to her elbows and her right hand and forearm were covered with blood. There was some on her left hand, too, and it was spattered on her face. There were a few speckles of it on the front of her sweater, but somehow, she’d managed to avoid getting her clothes bloody. She turned on the faucet and let the water get warm, then she grabbed a bottle of liquid soap and lathered up her hands.
What do You think about Frankenstorm: Chaos Theory?
