Children of Vice (Children of Vice #1)(7)
“You…” A second one came at me, but I was so lucky she was as dumb as she looked because she tripped over one of Dallas’ shoes. When they came off I had no idea, but damn…old girl went down harder than a ton, her chin hitting the edge of the table…damn.
“You crazy ass—” Dallas jumped onto my back like a damn monkey, pulling my hair, so I did the only thing I could. I jumped and allowed myself to fall back right on top of her.
“Ahh…” she cried out, letting me go. Rolling off her for only a second before turning around, I punched my hands into her face, over and over and over again, until my knuckles hurt so badly I grabbed the tray on the floor beside me and shoved it right back between her lips.
“Dallas, you’re new here,” I said, blowing my blond hair out of my face before continuing on, “but people don’t call me princess. They call me Psycho Ivy. It’s not very creative, I’ll give you that, but it gets to the point. You touch me, you end up in Medway. You come at me the wrong way, you end up in Medway. You disturb my peace, you end up in Medway! We clear?”
She tried speaking against the tray, but I held it hard.
“I’m going to need a yes or no from you, Dallas, before the riot squad enters!”
“Uhghghs!” She struggled, but I pinned her down.
“What was that?”
“EVERYONE DOWN!” The cavalry came in with their damn black suits and everything. Letting go of her, I laid down on the ground with my hands over my head.
“You’re so f*cking dead,” Dallas muttered to me. “You. Your whole family. Everybody gonna die.”
Turning my head to her, I smiled.
“I got no family, Dallas. I’m in here for a long time. So unless your boyfriend cuts off his dick, he ain’t touching me. And we both know he don’t have the balls for that.” When I leaned in she tried to lean in. “Should I write out instructions for him?”
“You’re sick in the head.”
“Yea, I told you that…a few times in solitary will do that to you.” I winked just as they zip tied my hands and feet like always.
“O’Davoren! I should have known!” Jimmy yelled as he lifted me up with some other guy.
“I want it noted I didn’t get to eat lunch, boys!” I yelled, relaxing. “And seriously, it doesn’t take two of you to pick me up.”
“SHUT UP, O’DAVOREN!”
“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of a Dallas lass. Be alive, or be she dead, I’ll grind her bones to make my bread…hahaha! Dallas! Dallas!”
“That’s it! Shoot her up!” he yelled.
“No!” I screamed, struggling in their arms. “You can’t do that! No! No! Let go!”
They pinned me to something, rolling up my sleeves, and I tried to fight. Even knowing that it would do nothing, I tried to fight until I felt the heat of it as it entered my skin. It took a second until everything just became loose and I couldn’t even hold my body up anymore.
Before I knew it, I was back in the dark cell. They just dropped me…like I was trash. And because of that damn shot I couldn’t really move. It was the scariest thing in the world. To be in a dark room…and be completely paralyzed.
What little strength I did have I used it to watch the door.
Nothing had ever happened to me. But I heard the other girls.
And I knew it was only a matter of time…especially with that new one. But if he came I had something for him.
What good does it do if I can’t move?
Concentrate.
Breathe.
Calm yourself.
Concentrate.
Breathe.
Calm yourself.
“That’s…it.” I smiled when I felt my finger twitch.
I smiled. Though it was the most pathetic in smile the world. This is how I survived here. I wasn’t insane…well apparently that was debatable because not many of the other girls acted like me. But this was the only thing I knew how to do.
This wasn’t supposed to be my life.
Shaking my head clear, I did my best not to think like that. If I did, I’d get upset. If I got upset, I couldn’t think, and if I couldn’t think, I was as good as dead.
Act crazy. Act as if you aren’t capable of thinking logically. Insanity is your friend. Fight. That is how you survived. That’s how all the holes stayed closed. How you don’t break…
ETHAN
When they opened the door to the big fridge in the hotel kitchen, a couple floors below the ballroom where polices officers and politicians patted themselves on the back, a rush of frosted air blew across my face. There was a still naked Mr. Downey, hung from a crane, pale, purple and shivering.
“Help him down,” I said, leaning against the wall, enjoying the coolness of it. In order to ‘help’ the man they cut his ties, letting him fall down on his own.
“Mr. Downey…I’m not very fond of people who waste my time. So I do hope you have more to say to me now than you did ten minutes ago,” I said as he shook on the ground, his skin color slowly matching that of a smurf.
“I’ve always wanted to know, if you cut off a man’s hand when he’s going into hypothermia, will he bleed less? My brother is a doctor. You’d think I could ask him these things, but he’d get all pissy and accuse me of wanting to know for all the wrong reasons. Grey, please end my curiosity.”