Venusoncoke

this should be my bestie, me and drew after racking up lines

meet trailer park princess

content warnings: mentions of addiction (heroin and alcohol), trauma, child abuse, complicated relationships, self-sabotage, mentions of the US military preying on poor kids, classism

known as barry's girl. can be found sleeping or watching tv on barry’s couch. causes much intrigue among barry’s clients. who is she? is she kook or pogue? what is her relationship to barry? the last one causes a lot of tension

wrapping up a deal when he hears an agonizing scream. he wraps up his deal quickly and walks into his living room

“the fuck goin’ on in there?”

“that bitch cut me.”

“i’m gon' need you to watch yo mouth.” he turns to the sluggish girl now standing and gripping a bloody switchblade, pointed at the customer clutching his face. “what happened?”

“i just told you!”

barry side-eyes the man. “not another word. unless you wanna lose the hand.”

he turns his attention back to the girl, raising an eyebrow in wait for her answer.

“fucker tried to touch my tit.” her glare never falters.

the man turns red in the face, not from the humidity this time. “she’s lying.”

“you got five seconds to get the fuck up outta here.”

the man blanches. “now hold on!”

“three.”

the man reaches for his baggie of coke on the table. the switchblade stabs between his hand and the baggie. he looks up, a pitiful expression on his face. “come on, man.”

“one.”

the man runs out. a shot rings out. he screams and hits the ground. he touches the stinging spot on his butt. his lower lip wobbles as he speaks, “y-you sh-shot me.”

barry nods, “tell your friends, bitch.”

“fuck you!” he cries, sniveling as he struggles to stand.

barry glares as he begins to walk to his door but stops at the steps. "what you say!?”

the man apologizes profusely and finally finds his bearings. he runs; barry shakes his head at the cowardice.

“asshole,” the girl mumbles as she flops back down on the couch.

“you got me losin’ customers.” he sits down next to her, staring at the sitcom rerun playing on the tv. she hums in acknowledgement.

“you gon’ get rid of me.”

he scoffs, believing it to be a joke and ready to answer it as such. until he looks at her. she's staring straight ahead, but he sees her scratching at her thumb, a nervous tick she's had for as long as he's known her. he's glad there's one thing that hasn't changed. “nah.”

she nods and lays her head on his shoulder. they stay like that for the rest of the day.

grew up in a shack near the swamp, very isolated from most of the island. father left her to deal with her mother’s rage and declining health at 6. although barry’s was the closest home to her they didn’t meet til middle school. she opened up to him in ways she hasn’t opened up to anyone

very thin, bordering on malnourished due to the prolonged drug use. slowly gains weight and muscle during her stay with barry due to him having no heroin under his roof

started living with barry after her parents kicked her out for doing heroin. he blames himself for her getting addicted to heroin in the first place so he let her stay

only physically affectionate when high because it makes her walls come down and makes her remember what she and barry used to have. barry tries his best to keep it classy when she gets like that

he forgot how clingy she gets when she’s drunk. she places open mouthed kisses against his neck, nearly putting her whole body weight on him. “i see the way you look at me. come on. you’re not gonna get this when i’m sober. you really wanna look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“i’ll live.” he softly but firmly removes her hands from his pants and holds them together. “you need to sleep this off.” he drags her to his bed and pushes her back.

she hits the bed with a bounce and laughs, “kinky.”

he shakes his head as he covers her with a blanket and pats her shoulder. “night.” he turns to leave the room when she replies, “night, bear.”

the affectionate nickname stops him in his tracks; he turns around to ask her to repeat it, but she’s already knocked out.

resents barry for leaving her to enlist after high school. he’s the only one that knew about her home life. can’t help but feel that he left because she was too much. she knows it’s not true and that he really needed the money and the (alleged) benefits but that nagging voice casts an unshakeable doubt in her mind

works at a bar in the cut as a bartender after a year at barry’s cause she didn’t want to rely on him; in her mind, it would only give him more of a reason to think she’s deadweight or using him (he doesn’t). she replaces heroine with booze but swears she won’t get addicted because she refuses to be like her mom

pretend to be a lone wolf but secretly longs for community and lifelong bonds. it’s why she entertains the idea of getting back with barry but always ends up pulling away

tries to be nonchalant but fails spectacularly. she is under a lot of stress with trying to stay clean, working through her complicated feelings about barry, and trying to get her life back in order

doesn’t try to hide her contempt for rafe or that he’s always around (he’s not) and doesn’t know how to keep his head out of her business. she thinks he’s an annoying, cocky, sniveling brat

he sluggishly turns his head to the right and squints, it takes him a while to accept what she’s doing in front of him, ruling it out as a hallucination at first. he nudges barry’s foot with his own, “should she be doing that?”

the girl doesn’t look up, still focused on holding her foot steady as she tries to stick the needle between her toes. “i’m weaning myself off.”

barry sighs, “she’s weaning herself off.”

rafe frowns in confusion at the pair’s reaction, “shouldn’t she be doing that in like, i don’t know, a facility?”

she stops looking for an entry point and looks up at rafe. “you’re one to fucking talk. didn’t you just do a line.”

“yeah but i’m not fucking-” he gestures wildly, “sticking fucking needles in my foot.“

barry feels a headache forming just thinking about the fallout of this argument. “ay man.” his attempt at deescalating the situation is ignored.

she turns her focus on the kook and points the syringe threateningly. “keep fucking talking, and i’ll stick this shit so far up your ass you’ll cough and feel it.”

barry whistles sharply, halting the argument and bringing their attention to him. “both of you need to chill the fuck out. ruinin’ my high. shit.”

the thickest accent you’ve ever heard. rafe jokes that he can never understand them when they’re talking about

hates her name and only responds to ‘M’ or personally approved nicknames. barry calls her by her real name when he’s pissed at her

owns a hunting rifle named ‘shirley’ left behind by her dad and has only used it three times in her life (when her mother tried to kill her, jj stealing 25K, shooting barry)

smokes with the single moms and wives of the trailer park. they talk about their husbands and kids and share the latest gossip about kooks and pogues alike, it’s how she stays in the know and barry stays ten steps ahead of competitors, enemies, and the law

barry’s the only one that sees through her cool girl facade. it’s why he’s the only one that can truly hurt her

oh deer!

Something in her was violently sensual, alive, earthy.

Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus

Antichrist (2009)