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Being a degenerate is okay these days
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Hope wasn't doing much for Raina lately.

Dorothy was obviously out of sorts, but it had seemed like the kind of off-kilter that meant she wasn't a threat. Stupid. Stupid to expect anything at this point, stupid to think that anybody but her might have their head screwed on straight.

Raina didn't know what exactly it was that set Dorothy off, but off she was set, and in the blink of an eye Dorothy had lunged, Penelope had screamed, and there was fresh blood on the blade of the knife.

For perhaps the first time in her life, Raina really understood what it meant to see red.

Oh, she had been angry before. She got angry about lots of things, actually; the things that she saw as injustice and unfairness, the people that she saw day to day who were too consumed by pettiness or prejudice to know what was good for them. She got mad at her parents because they didn't pay attention to their kids. She got mad at Cameron for stealing Darren McKay away from her, even though she knew she'd never have had a chance with Darren for obvious reasons even if she hadn't caught him sucking face with her brother when they thought nobody else was home. She got mad at Leila for being bratty and spending too much time on her phone and hollering at her to hurry up in the bathroom when they both knew Raina would be out in time for Leila to do her hair. She got mad at Cris for moping around and smoking pot when he could have been spending time with her, and then she got mad at him for spending time with other girls when she was too mad to see him.

But all of that, every bit of righteous anger Raina had ever felt in her life from the time that she was cognizant enough to know what righteous anger was, had a similar goal. She wanted things to go the right way. She wanted life to be fair, and for people to be happy, and for things to go smoothly. Even yesterday, when she had been so furious that she couldn't hold it all in and it spilled out in tremors and tears, Raina had mainly been pissed at Alessio because he had the gall to ruin their plan and his own life with it. There had been a moment, a terrifying moment, when she had thought that she might have to test the limits of that anger, but she hadn't had to.

Now here she was again. She had made it through Darius, Kimiko, and Alessio without anyone getting hurt. God, what would she have done if she had been there when Al shot Kiziah?

Would she have finally whipped the grenade out of her bag and screamed at the top of her lungs to "Get out get out GET OUT YOU PSYCHO OR I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T GET THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW I SWEAR-"? Would she have lunged as though to make good on those threats, tears streaming down her face?

She would now. And she did.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Anemia · The Asylum Library