No one knows how to sling a hateful line like Chanel Oberlin. One has to wonder if there's a Dorian Gray-esque portrait of her hanging in the attic of her sorority house, decaying with every torrent of scorn she lets spill from her mouth.
Chanel goes the Heathers/Jawbreaker route of leaving a body count trailing behind her. But remorse? That's not on the menu for Chanel. Though, neither is anything but alcohol and cotton balls by the looks of it.
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