“Isn’t bestiality illegal?” one of them asked.
“You would know,” another countered, and the guy who’d asked threw a vape at his head.
“Get the fuck out,” Theo practically growled, his grip tightening on my arms painfully. I didn’t think they would listen, but they all quickly scrambled off the couches, mumbling something about a rabid dog.
The time it took for them to leave was enough for me to come to my senses.
I pulled out of Theo’s grip, but his eyes were back on me, and that was almost worse. They dug through my walls.
“Let me fucking protect you, Abigail.”
“You can’t. You’re the one person who can’t.”
I was always Abigail Crowne, and my last name always eradicated anything else about me. Abigail Crowne needs her mother’s approval. Abigail Crowne has no friends because Abigail Crowne is a fire starter, an attention seeker, a whore. Abigail Crowne hurts before she can hurt.
With Theo, I was always just Abigail.
And that was the problem.
“Abigail—”
“You broke my heart!” I think I yelled, but the sound of fireworks, music, and illegally obtained weapons was so loud I couldn’t be sure. “You talk about how you’re going to break my heart, but you already did, Theo. You shattered it into a billion pieces.”
His grip loosened, eyes wide, lips parted.
I took the opportunity to run. I ran back into the party, into the black and glitter and flashing lights, deep
into the pounding music. Away from Theo, from someone who saw me, disappearing into a world where no one saw me.
Because that was truly safer.
I took another shot of vodka, then slammed the glass down.
I can’t believe I told Theo that. Fuck.
Slam.
I can only imagine the ways he’s going to use it against me.
Slam.
Deciding to forgo the shots and grab a bottle, I carried it with me into the master bathroom. Astonishingly, no one was in the bed, but laughter and giggles trickled out of the bathroom. I saw their shoes before I saw them. Spiky, silver, sparkly heels sticking out of the bubbles. They drank from a champagne bottle, curls sticking to their perfectly done makeup. Only their jewels and shoes were left on their naked bodies.
“Get out,” I said, taking a drink, not bothering to hide my glare.
“Um, fuck off, Reject.”
They giggled harder.
I vaguely recognized them, the way I vaguely recognized everyone. I think one of them was friends with my sister, or maybe had sat on the face of my brother.
With an exhale, I threw the bottle against the wall. It shattered by their feet. It wouldn’t cut them, but it was enough to get them scrambling out of the tub.
“Are you a psycho?” they screamed, bubbles stuck to their artificially tanned skin.
“Um, maybe?” I said in the same annoying tone, bobbing my head like they had.
The door slammed shut behind them and I headed to the balcony.