Chalice.
THREE YEARS AGO.
That evening was quiet just like every other evening in this cold large mansion. But something about this one felt different from the rest.
The air was thick with tension. It smelled of vodka, clean cash and the distinct smell of those white powders that I always caught Clement sniffing once in a while— I found out later that they were called cocaine.
And as I stepped even further into his penthouse, not missing the trails of that same white powders now littering everywhere, my heart began to pound in my chest.
Usually, whenever he took them in small amounts, he always turned violent; so I couldn't help but wonder how violent he would be now that he had taken so much, the entire house was literally covered in it.
I shook like a leaf in the wind when I arrived at the front of the door leading to the living room and when I pushed it open, my breath caught.
Why?
