If I were to randomly bump into my alter-ego on the street, she’d be sporting violet hair, fishnet stockings and armed with razor blades.
You’d find a ‘fuck-off’ tattoo on her left arm, and the number ’13’ on the other.
Her name is Dawn. She gave herself that name—she doesn’t know why, but she figured it sounded nice.
In fits of rage, she would bash your car windshield and headlights with a baseball bat while cursing and screaming at your ancestors.
A criminal who is very comfortable in her own skin—and lives for risks and danger.
Have you met yours?
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