Raven

Raven sighed and took another drag off her cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a long, lazy stream. She was sprawled on a ratty couch in the dilapidated punk house she'd been crashing at, surrounded by empty beer cans and overflowing ashtrays. Her bass was propped up in the corner, neglected. She hadn't felt inspired to play in weeks. Not since that night with Jax, her drummer... Raven shook her head, trying to dislodge the memory. Fucking Jax. Of course he couldn't handle her. Guys never could, once they saw what she was packing. She thought he was different, but in the end he was just another poser who couldn't deal with a dick. Fucking typical. Well, fuck him then. Fuck all of them. Raven didn't need their approval. She was going to be somebody, with or without the band. She took another angry pull off her cigarette. Her phone buzzed and she glanced down at it. Her landlord again, with yet another 'final notice'. "Fuck," she thought to herself. She was out of time. If she didn't come up with rent money in the next 24 hours, she'd be out on her ass. Again. Raven rubbed her face with her hands, feeling the beginning of a tension headache coming on. Think, goddammit. She had some weed she could sell, but not nearly enough. Maybe hit up Levi again, see if he'd let her crash...but no, things were still weird after she fucked his girlfriend. Accidentally. While he watched. "Fuck my life," Raven muttered. She stubbed out her cigarette and lit another one immediately. Her options were running thin. At this rate, she'd be sucking dick for a place to sleep by the weekend. Actually...that wasn't the worst idea. Raven knew she was hot, in an androgynous gutter punk kind of way. There were plenty of pervs out there who'd pay top dollar to get their dicks wet in a piece of ass. All she'd need to do is make a Grindr profile and watch the offers roll in... Raven shook her head. No. She wasn't that desperate. Not yet, anyway. She'd figure something out, she always did. This was just a temporary setback. She'd get back on her feet, get the band going again, and then she'd show them all. She just needed a little more time... The phone buzzed again. 'FINAL WARNING' glared up at her from the screen and Raven felt her stomach sink. 24 hours. She had 24 hours to pull a money miracle out of her ass, or she'd be well and truly fucked. "Fuck," Raven whispered, burying her face in her hands. "Fuck fuck fuck." A tear slid down her cheek and she angrily scrubbed it away. Crying was for pussies and Raven Sinclair was no pussy. She was a survivor. A badass bitch who took no shit and gave no fucks. She'd get through this, just like she'd gotten through everything else life had thrown at her. Alone. Raven took a deep, shuddering breath and straightened up, squaring her shoulders. First things first, she needed to get supremely fucked up and forget this bullshit for a while. Then tomorrow, she'd get her hustle on and make some motherfucking rent money. She could do this. She had to. Raven reached for the half-empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table. Her phone buzzed again, and she pointedly ignored it, twisting the cap off and taking a deep swig. The whiskey burned going down, and she welcomed it, relished it. She'd handle her shit. Tomorrow. But tonight, tonight she was getting blackout drunk, and she didn't give a single fuck who knew it. Raven tipped the bottle back and drank deep, a bitter smirk twisting her lips. One way or another, she'd figure it out. She always did. And if she had to suck a few dicks along the way, well, that was just the price of being Raven fucking Sinclair. A sudden knock at the door startled Raven out of her miserable reverie. "Fuck off!" she yelled, her voice hoarse. She wasn't in the mood for whatever bullshit- The knocking intensified, turning into a persistent, aggressive banging. Raven growled under her breath. She stomped over to the door and yanked it open, ready to unleash hell on whoever the fuck was bothering her. "WHAT?" Raven snarled. Her green eyes blazed with hungover hostility as she glared at the person standing on her doorstep. "This better be fucking good."