-Trigger Warning--Trigger Warning--Trigger Warning--Trigger Warning--Trigger Warning-
Tazara sat in the bathroom stall, her phone balanced on her knee as she tried to steady herself. She wasn't supposed to be in here for long—just a quick escape to clear her mind before returning to the mess outside. But then the bathroom door slammed open, the sound reverberating off the tiles.
Two women burst in, their voices loud and sharp, bickering like the walls weren't paper-thin.
Well nonexistent.
Tazara froze, instinctively drawing her feet up onto the toilet seat as she peeked through the crack in the stall door.
"You're so predictable, Clair," one of them hissed.
"Predictable? That's rich, coming from someone whose entire career rests on making people seem like monsters, day in day out you accuse people of stuff don't that get old? " Clair snapped back, her heels clicking across the floor.
"monsters?" The other woman's voice rose an octave, dripping with venom. "You think you're so perfect, don't you? Always waiting for your moment to swoop in and save the day for the win. But newsflash: nobody needs you. Because I sure as hell didn't and don't know."
"Oh, grow up," Clair shot back. "At least I'm not out here playing house with anyone willing to hump your leg"
"Who told you that? " Kamala said, her angered demeanor faltering for a moment as she caught herself, a small blush creeping across her face as Clair raised an eyebrow but didn't comment
Tazara gripped her phone tightly, her heart racing.
"Fuck you!" Kamala shouted
"No, fuck you!" Clair's voice was trembling now, the composed facade cracking. "You keep throwing your weight around, threatening me every chance you get, like it's some kind of game!"
"Threatening you?" the other woman barked out a bitter laugh. "I admit it! I fucked the girl! I bought her things! I—" Her voice caught, raw and full of something close to desperation. "I love her."
Tazara's eyes widened as she watched Clair take a step back, her face unreadable through the crack in the door.
She looked appalled. Shocked. Tazara had told her.
It just was different coming from her lips.
"You think I care about any of that?" Clair finally said, her voice colder than ice. "This isn't about her. It's about you, Kamala. You're the one who won't even talk to me—who cut me off completely."
"Because you took someone from me!" Kamala's voice broke, sharp and raw. Her breathing was ragged now, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "You think I want to do this? That I wanted to give up the person I love? I didn't have a choice, Clair! You show me what you'll do, what you can do, I refuse to lose anythi- Anyone else to you. "
Clair stood frozen, but Kamala wasn't done.
"You think you're the only one who lost something?" Clair shot back
"SOMEONE. not lost. They were taken... Murdered. By you." Kamal asserted with a shaky finger
Kamala's face was red, her eyes wild. " You took away the one person I loved. I watched you stab her, shoot her—and then you made me shoot her again! All just to win, we didn't even get the extra credit, we had A's, we would have finished with an A! " Her voice cracked on the last word, the weight of her confession settling over the room like a storm cloud.
For the first time, Clair seemed to falter. Her back straightened, her jaw tightened, but her eyes flickered with something that might have been regret—or shame.
Kamala moved to leave, her face flushed and tear-streaked, but Clair grabbed her arm, whipping her around and pinning her against the sinks.
"You killed her too," Clair said, her voice low and cold, her eyes locked on Kamala's. "Don't act like your hands are clean."
Kamala's breath hitched, but she shoved Clair off, her voice firm despite the tremble. "You were hell-bent on winning. You couldn't see anything else. And I—" Her voice dropped. "I should have stopped you. But I didn't. And now? you have that glint in your eyes, you'd do it again if you had the chance, but I won't let you."
A small gasp broke through the charged silence, and both women froze, their heads snapping toward the stall where Tazara was hiding.
Kamala pulled back first, wiping at her face as she muttered, "I'm done." Without another glance at Clair, she strode out of the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind her.
Clair remained motionless for a moment, then slowly approached the stall. Tazara could see the pointed heels Clair had bought her through the crack in the door.
Clair leaned close, her voice low and dangerous.
"Utter a word to Daniel or Sophie, and I'll come for you, and your friend. Don't test me."
—
Kamala stumbled through the bustling streets, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. She barely registered the concerned glances thrown her way, the disapproving shakes of heads, or the occasional murmurs of pity. Her breathing was erratic, her hands trembling as if her body were fragile; on the verge of breaking apart.
She pushed through the door of a small, dimly lit bar, the scent of spilled liquor and stale cigarettes assaulting her senses. Without a word, she slid onto a stool, gripping the counter like a lifeline.
"Shots," she muttered, her voice hoarse. "Whatever's strong."
The bartender eyed her hesitantly but poured the drink. Kamala downed it, the burn in her throat doing little to quell the storm within her. She motioned for another, and another, her hands unsteady as she gripped each glass. Her reflection in the bar's mirror—a disheveled, anguished woman in a pristine suit—mocked her.
After what felt like an eternity, she checked her watch. Time to face it. She wiped at her face, smoothing her hair before leaving.
When she returned to the room, she paused just outside the door, overhearing the low hiss of an argument.
"I'm in more danger! I work with her every day!" Tazara snapped.
"And I'm in her orbit," Samara shot back. "If they both snap, I'm collateral damage!"
Kamala opened the door quietly, stepping in without announcing herself. The two women froze, their whispered debate dying instantly.
"I heard enough," Kamala said, her voice cracking. She didn't yell, didn't demand explanations. She looked at them, her eyes red and raw, and begged. "Please. Both of you. Stop this. Don't do anything. I'll handle it. Protect yourselves. Please."
Tazara bristled, her face flushing. "Clair threatened me, Kamala. She came to the stall, whispered through the door! She said she'd come for me—and Samara—if I talked. You expect me to do nothing?"
Kamala's breath hitched. "Yes," she whispered, her voice shaky. "Do nothing. Let me deal with it."
Tazara glared. "Deal with it? Like you've dealt with everything else? Did you kill someone?"
The question was sharp, and Kamala flinched. She closed her eyes and nodded. "Not by choice," she said, her voice hollow. "Clair—she had a gun. She would have shot me if I didn't play along. It wasn't my choice."
The room was silent. Samara's expression softened, though her fear was evident. The hatred Kamala had seen in her eyes last night was gone, replaced by something more painful: fear of losing her.
Before anyone could speak, the door burst open. Clair strode in, exuding smugness, her eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction.
She dropped into a chair, surveying the room like a predator. "All of you," she began, her voice deceptively calm, "say a word, and you better start counting your motherfucking days. Let me spell this out for you: I am not fucking playing."
The room froze as Clair reached into her bag, pulling out a gun and slamming it onto the table.
"How the hell did you even get that in here?" tazara cried out in disbelief
"Try to ruin me," she sneered, "and see who looks like Swiss cheese before they can see their next term."
Kamala moved before she thought, her own weapon suddenly in her hand and placed on the table.
"Well shit, both y'all was packing and Monday said shit, I see how it is... okay... okay" tazara added, obviously her expression of her panic
The two women stood at opposite sides of the table, their gazes locked in an unspoken challenge.
In the corner, Tazara and Samara sat on the floor, huddled close, their faces pale. They didn't dare speak, didn't dare move.
The silence was unbearable, the tension thick enough to choke.
Clair leaned forward, her smirk unwavering. "You sure you're ready for this, Kamala?"
Kamala's hand trembled, but her eyes didn't waver. "I'm done being afraid of you."
The room held its breath, teetering on the edge of something unspeakable.
Clair rose slowly from her seat, taking the gun in hand.
The metallic click of her cocking it echoed in the room, making Tazara and Samara cling to each other tighter, their faces pale with terror.
"Let's be clear," Clair began, her voice ice-cold.
"Security wouldn't make it here in time to save the three of you. I've got enough bullets and good enough aim to make sure none of you get out without fighting for or losing your lives." She let her words linger, savoring their effect.
She took a measured step forward, the gun hanging loosely by her side, though her grip was firm.
"All I want is for the suit to be dismissed, and my client's ruling to stand. That's it. Simple." She paused, letting the silence fester before continuing.
"Oh, and since we're all here secrets..." Clair smirked, looking down at tazara knowing she'd opened her mouth to Samara about the whole bathroom ordeal.
"Kaplan and Bridgette asked Sophie, at the time the little golden girl in the evidence lockers, to take the manifesto. They had her forge a record that the prosecution checked it out and never returned it. The office itself covered it up, of course, how would they explain not being able to account for something in a criminal case, but guess what? I had it the whole time. And let me tell you..." Her grin widened.
"It's got some sick shit in it."
Clair now loomed over Tazara and Samara, who held onto each other like their lives depended on it. She flicked the safety on the gun, pointing it downward abruptly. Both women flinched violently, and Kamala instinctively reached for her gun, ready to act.
"You wouldn't dare hurt them," Kamala said, her voice low and steady.
"Even if I wouldn't drop the case, you wouldn't go that far."
Clair turned her gaze to Kamala, her smirk never faltering. "Wouldn't I, after all I've done it before?" she asked before flipping the gun in her hand, holding it by the barrel.
Without warning, Clair raised her hand and brought the butt of the gun down on Samara's shoulder. The younger woman let out a sharp yelp of pain, clutching her shoulder as tears sprang to her eyes. Clair smiled, turning to gauge Kamala's reaction.
But before she could see it, Kamala's palm connected with her face with enough force to make Clair drop the gun and stumble back. Her hair fell over her face as she clutched her cheek, momentarily stunned into silence.
"Don't you ever lay a hand on her again!" Kamala shouted, her voice trembling with fury. She grabbed Clair by the hair, forcing her to look at her.
"Here's the deal," Kamala hissed. "I'll drop the case since the prosecutor who worked it got fired for misconduct anyway. But if I hear a word about our past, or see your smug face anywhere other than by pure coincidence or in a professional setting, I just might stoop to your level and do something illegal."
Clair chuckled, her smirk returning. "I like it when you're angry," she purred, her tone taunting. "Tell me, Kamala, do you ever pull her hair when you're angry with her?"
Before Kamala could react, Clair leaned in and kissed her. Kamala shoved her away, stumbling back and wiping her lips in disgust.
Clair bent to retrieve her gun, her gaze flicking to Samara. The look in her eyes was a chilling mix of hatred, and frustration.
"You won't do a damn thing, Kamala," Clair said with a smirk. "Because you're weak, they made you weak ." She slipped the gun back into her bag and turned to Tazara.
They weren't about tazara and almost not about Samara. It is about someone else that made Kamala's expression falter for a second.
"See you at the office Christmas party," she said lightly before striding out of the room, pausing only to adjust her hair.
Kamala stood frozen for a moment before rubbing her temples, the tension radiating off her. She tucked her gun back into her bag and turned to the two terrified women.
"I'm sorry about... all of this," Kamala said softly.
Samara, still clutching her shoulder, shook her head. "No, don't apologize. Honestly? I'm glad to see the gun this time."
Kamala let out a soft, dull laugh, shaking her head.
"I'll explain everything soon," she promised.
"Let me drive you both to my place. Samara, you can get your car there. We'll have Christmas dinner, dinner, something I don't know. I'll explain everything. I owe you that much. Both of that much." she said, her growing discomfort palpable
The two exchanged hesitant glances but eventually nodded, rising to their feet. Though they were shaken, they followed Kamala out, knowing that whatever was coming would be... interesting.
—
Kamala drove the three of them back to her place in silence, the tension in the car thick enough to cut with a knife. When they arrived, she parked and got out, glancing at the two women still seated in the car.
"Please, I'm sort of begging but you both should come over for dinner tomorrow night," Kamala said, her voice steady but her discomfort obvious as watched them exit the car.
"food, an explanation?" Kamal began but quickly lost the words
Tazara and Samara exchanged another look before nodding in agreement. But before leaving, Samara hesitated, she stepped closer, still keeping some distance with her hand resting on the car door.
"Kamala," she began softly, her voice trembling slightly, "did you mean any of it? All those things you said before?"
Kamala exhaled deeply, her eyes heavy with emotion.
"No, not all of it," she admitted. "But I meant what I said about us not being together, not right now." This time Samara somewhat understood why.
"Especially not with Clair riding me so hard. I don't want you in harm's way, Samara. Not again. Not ever."
Samara could tell by the way her lips lingered parted whe she said 'not again', and her gaze slipped past Samara, that Kamala hadn't meant that for her fully.
Samara's lips parted as if to argue, but instead, she stepped forward and hugged Kamala tightly.
"I'll hold you to tomorrow, okay?" she whispered, melting into a kamala familiar scent, her warmth, everything she'd been without for too long but a short time.
The warmth that was nearly like when she held her skin to skin.
She'd been robbed of this by Clair, but she'd allowed herself to be robbed of something else out of spite.
Tazara, sitting in samaras car, leaned on the horn, startling them both. "I've been traumatized enough for one day!" she yelled out the window.
"It's very triggering watching you hug the person who caused it!"
Samara let out a half-laugh, half-sigh as she stepped away from Kamala and got in her car.
"See you tomorrow," she said, her voice carrying a mix of hope and happiness for once in a while.
As she drove off, her phone buzzed. She glanced at it at a red light, a message with an address and just the name "Siobhan." Her chest tightened, unease bubbling up inside her, but she couldn't ignore it.
She'd forgotten she'd given her her number.
When she arrived at the apartments, her stomach churned. She parked and made her way to the apartment, hesitating at the door before finally knocking.
It swung open, and Daniel greeted her with an easy smile.
"Didn't think you'd be out so soon," he said cheerfully. "Clair told us to take the day. I'm guessing things didn't go well? For you and Harris that is?"
Samara nodded, her expression neutral.
"Things didn't go well, yes, but just between Kamala and Clair," she said bluntly.
"But we're dropping the case. No side loses, no side wins. Both sides, though, are still shitty in the ethics department..." she remarked side eying him as he allowed her inside
Daniel's grin faltered for a moment. "Siobhan's here," he said, stepping aside to let her in. "She's been waiting for you."
Samara entered, her gaze darting around the apartment. Daniel knocked on a bedroom door and called out,
"Siobhan, your toy, Samara's back!"
'Toy?' she scoffed in response under her breath, oddly being called Siobhan's toy didn't send that same shock though she liked the idea of being called Kamala's pet.
Maybe word choice, or maybe the connection just was-
"Wrong, you are so wrong that she is not my toy, until she's in bed with me!" The door flew open, and Siobhan appeared, her eyes lighting up as she ran to Samara and threw herself into her arms, kissing her passionately.
"I missed you," she murmured. "Are you staying?"
Samara hesitated, stepping back slightly. "No," she said softly.
"I just need to get my things."
Siobhan's smile faded, replaced with disappointment and a pout.
"Oh. Well, I folded everything for you," she said, her voice tinged with sadness.
"Thanks," Samara replied, glancing at her briefly before stepping back.
Siobhan fetched her belongings and handed them over, trying to mask her emotions with a small smile.
"How was your day?" she asked.
Samara shook her head. "It's been... a lot," she said, avoiding the details. "Thanks again, Siobhan."
She turned and left quickly, she didn't know how to tell her she didn't want her, but the weight of the day pressing down on her as she walked back to her car did little to help her think about it.
Her phone buzzed and slipped into her car.
Unknown
Look up
Samara looked up through her car window seeing an apartment's window curtains draw wide open, and there Siobhan was holding a bottle of what Samara could only tell was some type of alcohol, and a bag of something crushed and green.
Unknown
Everclear and indica?
Also, have you ever been strapped before?
Oh and don't think I forgot about Friday, I'm excited, these will be for our after date, date ❤
Samara threw her phone down and huffed as she put her seatbelt on.
"Girl the hell you're upset about, she looks fun as hell, and she got weed and alcohol! She in college to, because if you don't want her than I might have to give it a shot" tazara dead jokingly as she tried to look up at the apartment window again for herself, but she was already gone by then
—
Daniel closed the door with a bemused chuckle, turning to Siobhan, who was still staring at the now empty spot where Samara had stood.
"Well, that was awkward," he said, leaning against the wall.
"You're telling me you told Kamala off, you and Samara drank yourselves stupid, and somehow, you're the one she came home to, when I though harris and her were fucking? Yeah, there's a snowy way this ends well."
Siobhan's glare was icy. "Snow way?"
"Yeah, half-Irish freak," he teased, grinning. "Thought I'd try out some festive humor. Cause your elf culture n stuff" he said with a smile as he crouched down only a little to Samaras height
"Go to hell, and you're supposed to tell Irish jokes for got damn St Patrick's day"
"Okay, fine you win with your leprechaun stuff" he rolled his eyes, "But seriously, Tazara told us everything. Kamala and Samara are practically screwing, well were by the looks of it, and you're playing the rebound girlfriend, after you found her crying at a bar and brought her patron shots? You really think this'll work out for you?"
Siobhan folded her arms, her jaw tightening.
"Tazara's full of shit, or wasn't lying and they fell out, but they crashed and burned. I saw it at that club. And for the record, Samara was already drunk before she got to the club. I didn't exactly force-feed her tequila and patron."
"Then what did you do?" He said with a smug smile on his face watching Siobhan squirm in her place
"I suggested that I could make a hot girl like her stop crying..." she said scratching the back of her head
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "You didn't and I know it! Siobhan, come on. You got her wasted so you could make your move."
Siobhan scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I brought her some shots because she was crying. Big difference. And, yeah, we kissed... then I rode the hell out of her face. But that's not the point."
Daniel burst out laughing, shaking his head. "Not the point? Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night."
"No, really," Siobhan said, pacing now.
"The point is, she has no clue what she's doing. I'm just helping her in the right direction, she ain't gonna stay, but hell is she hot and esau. But get this! She didn't even understand the basics. Poor girl couldn't even figure out how to use her fingers . That's, like, Lesbian 101!"
Daniel snorted, holding his stomach. "Wow. Guess Kamala isn't teaching her much, she probably does all the work, you know older women like a girl they can just fold up and they stay there for em', Samara probably likes that. "
Siobhan shot him a sharp look, but her lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile.
"Probably hell, she looked terrified when I told her she'd learn" she muttered, sitting down heavily on the couch.
Daniel shrugged. "Thuh...you better figure out what you're doing with Samara before this blows up in your face. She's not exactly the type to handle... complicated relationships well, from what you've seen and told me. "
"She basically ran the hell out of here, whatever your doing tone it down maybe, a little your scaring her off before you even actually got to know her" Daniel suggested
Siobhan sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, I know. But what am I supposed to do? She's already halfway gone, and I don't think I can pull her back. Hell I don't think I even had her, I want her though!"
Daniel smirked. "You can try! just don't scare her, your a little too much at times"
"I took her to campus I'd? Is that too much?"
"Yes girl, why the hell did you do that! what the hell are you gonna do with that sista girl?"he said throwing his hands up and walked off
—
Samara and Tazara both entered their dorm room and immediately collapsed onto their respective beds, the day pressing down on them like a thick blanket. For a long while, they lay in silence, the events swirling in their minds too chaotic to put into words.
Finally, Samara got up, trudged to their stash drawer, and pulled out a blunt and a lighter. She lit it, taking a long, slow hit, the smoke filling her lungs before she passed it to Tazara.
Tazara sat up, holding the smoke in until she reached over to crack the window open. She exhaled a long stream of smoke into the night air, then turned back to Samara.
"I think I want to drop out of law school," she said, her voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and resolve.
Tazara groaned, taking another hit before handing the blunt back.
"Girl, you need to smoke more and think less. Forget about what happened today. Focus on the free drama and food we're about to get from our professor's Christmas dinner. Plus, office Christmas parties, at least for me."
Samara managed a weak laugh as she took another drag.
"You better watch your back at that party. Clair's probably gonna try something."
Tazara rolled her eyes, reclining back against her bed frame.
"Oh, I'm showing up and then leaving, and besides it's in broad damn daylight, that fucking office could be closed for a day and then they could have te party at night, but nooooo. But again, not staying where Clair's lurking when there's a hot free plate waiting for me elsewhere."
Samara stood, wandering over to her desk. She rummaged through her bag, searching for her wallet. When she finally found it, she opened it only to find her campus ID missing. She cursed aloud. She knew who took it.
"Siobhan took my damn campus ID."
Tazara raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"
Samara snapped the wallet shut.
"Because my wallet zips, Tazara. Shit doesn't just fall out. And besides, my pants were at Siobhan's place all day. She probably sniffed them and decided to rob me."
Tazara choked on her laugh, doubling over. "She robbed you of your CAMPUS ID, and nothing else? Come on."
Samara paced the room, fuming. "Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if she did rob me and took my ID. She already robbed me of actually enjoying having sex!"
Tazara stopped laughing and looked at Samara, the weight of her words sinking in.
"Wait, what?"
Samara hesitated, the anger in her voice giving way to uncertainty.
"I mean... she didn't really give me time to think. I was drunk, Tazara. Like, really drunk? I kept pulling my hand away, she'd pull it back or just hold it there, look her fingers bruised my wrist?!" Samara extended her arm as Tazara sat up a little to see
Tazara's face contorted. Concern at her friend seeming to recall everything as if it was some game she didn't understand.
"But I didn't say no, you know? It was like... I didn't even un-." she stopped herself
The room fell into a heavy silence, the air thick with unspoken questions. Tazara finally broke it, her voice soft but firm.
"Samara... do you think she... took advantage of you?"
Samara didn't answer right away, "no?" She said in near disbelief, her fingers nervously toying with the edge of her wallet.
"I don't know," she finally admitted.
"But it doesn't feel right. None of it did."
"She was drunk I was drunk, we-"
"How drunk, respectively?"
" I drove to Kamala house and yelled and cussed her out, off two buzz balls deep, zonked out after the third, but before the cussing out part. Then I barely remember walking to the bar because Kamala took my keys, but I do remember falling over in a bush at some point, then I drank whatever she gave me and shit got weird. She got weird."
"She was telling Kamala off like it was nothing, so maybe she wasn't as drunk as me? " Samara went silent, half expecting something to happen
Tazara scooted to the edge of her bed, looking at her friend with concern.
"That's not something you can just brush off, Samara. You need to figure out what really happened. And if it's as bad as it sounds... you need to do something about it."
Samara nodded slowly, her thoughts a tangled mess.
"Yeah," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
"Maybe."
Tazara didn't press further, knowing Samara needed time to process. For now, the silence returned, save for the occasional crackle of the blunt and the distant sounds of campus outside.