Glittering skin, Francesca could not wrap her head around the fact that she was seemingly invincible under this new armor of hers. Surely she had done a shit ton of meth before cleaning the studio, it was the only way that made sense. She had seen enough Breaking Bad to tell her the effects of the drug and this sense of invincibility was a prime side effect. Delusions of grandeur, invincibility, belief that her skin was an invincible diamond.. Yep, definitely drug use. How had her life spun into this downward spiral that she thought turning to the mind altering drug would be the answer? Sure, Aaron Paul made it look fun enough, but not even during her greatest moments of defiance against her parents did she think anything other than a line of coke or two would be the answer.
No, Francesca's rebellions had more to do with sneaking away from home over to her dear friend and pseudo older sister's house to hang out with Libby and her older friends. They had money without limits or parents who had absolutely no desire to parent them. It was the same old song and dance, Frankie and her cohorts were not the first and they certainly would not be the last to experience that kind of financially charged neglect. As long as no one was arrested or flunked out of school, their parents were happy, which meant they were free to do whatever they pleased and their passports remained active. Frankie wasn't one to go further than sneaking bottles of vodka and putting on her mother's lavish collection of jewelry daydreaming about the day she would have a collection of her own.
Little did she know she would be her own walking, talking diamond collection. More than that. Her mother would faint if she saw her now, the appraisal value would be through the roof. Staring at her reflection, Frankie ran her hardened hands over her body, curves and soft spots now sharp and jagged. Diamonds were not round but they could cut through anything, it seemed.
At least she had stopped hearing voices. Probably the meth. What an awesome way to clear her mind. And it would explain an entire week of her life missing and weird text messages from some girl named Emma. Finding the person who sold her drugs or even remembering how to use drugs would prove to be difficult, but when there's a will there's a way. She would not be the first Snow to mysteriously appear at a rehab facility under the pretense of stress, her mother's frequent flier card enough to make it acceptable. She could find a Heisenberg around Boston somewhere.
The exhaustion set in. Apparently, being a diamond was exhausting and she passed out half hanging on the couch. A whole day without her fiance present was strange, and secretly she hoped he would come home and see her like this, if only so someone would believe her. The dog must have known something was up and stayed in her bed, unimpressed by this insanely shiny person walking around through her house. "Some guard dog you are, Stella." Frankie attempted to take a picture in the mirror but it turned out completely blinded and like a ghost orb would have been in the photograph instead of a person with diamond covered skin.
It was close enough to Halloween that she figured she could go out in public and only get a couple strange looks - but let's be real, Frankie ran a princess boutique, she was used to getting curious and strange stares. The studio was only a couple minute walk from the town home and it wasn't like she was cold or hurting.
Another strange looking man in a dark blue jump suit who looked as if he walked out of a James Bond movie sauntered into an alley, loudly and gruffly questioning a man who looked like he was about her father's age for information that clearly he had none of. Frankie followed behind with some delusional idea that she would be able to help, and closed in, "What do you think you're doing?" Asking calmly, almost mocking, seemed better than trying the Batman tactic of interrogation. When she only got a blank stare in response, she grabbed him by the lapel of his jump suit and knocked her solid head into his, relieved when there was no splitting headache that instantly followed. She only got a wail of pain from the asshole in blue, and threw a right hook square into his jaw.
"I thought I told you never to come back here." And then he was bleeding from his nose, and seeing him hurting gave her a rush of.. well, she wasn't sure what. Francesca had never been a violent person. Which was an immediate lie. Maybe she was quick with her emotions and can recently remember a time where she threw a wine bottle across the room because her fiance wanted to set a date for their wedding.. It sounded worse without the context. Violence and drugs typically went hand in hand, maybe this was all under the surface all along and it was just the next logical step for her. So Frankie wailed on him again, his blood splattered on her diamond coated hand, until he stopped moving altogether. "Stay the fuck away."
The adrenaline coursing through her, perhaps combined with the come down from her new found drug use, made Frankie sway with drowsiness. The studio was just around the corner, her eyes getting heavier with every step. She stumbled and unlocked the door, forgetting to lock the door behind her while she collapsed on the large stuffed shell that they did story time on for the kids. She had just started to fall asleep when rough hands grabbed her and held a rag over her face, the inevitable black out hitting her much harder than her sleep ever could.