Page 16 of Royal Havoc

“Zoey,” a loud voice booms over the crowd. A giant body to match appears beside her, causing the flow of bodies to veer around us. “You makin’ friends with the new girl?” he asks, wiggling his brows suggestively as his eyes fondle my tits.

She snorts, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Go away, Brad. Her universe iswaybigger than yours.”

He scoffs at her warning, stepping closer, sizing me up like every bit of the goon he is. “She looks like a tiny kitten to me,” he suggests grossly.

Glowing silver eyes behind his shoulder draws my attention, pissing me off instantly. I smile shyly up at the goon, toying dangerously with the glowing anger hovering nearby.

Leaning close to Brad, teeth scraping over my bottom lip. “Kitties have claws,” I taunt playfully, side-eyeing the wall of rage watching us.

“Onyx,” Zoey whispers nervously beside me, tugging my arm.

“I got some wood you can scratch,” Brad the idiot suggests.

Fucking ick!

Before I have time to respond, something wet hits my chest. “The fuck!” I screech, jumping back.

My head snaps up, ready to unleash on the goon, until I find Vex’s scowling face behind him.

Rubbing my chest. “Did you seriously spit on me?” I challenge, inspecting my wet fingers.

Vex huffs through his nose, watching me stare in shock. “That’s one,” he says, walking away casually.

I shove Brad out of my way, ready to chase down the asshole.

“Stop,” Zoey sighs, hands out in front of her, blocking me.

“Get out of my way,” I grit, shoving her. “He fucking spit on me,” I hiss loudly, tracking his movements through the crowd.

She smiles sadly as if she can relate. “That’s just Vex. Let it go,” she warns nervously.

Shock pummels me in the face at how quickly she’s ready to discount what he’s done because it's Vex.

“Let it go? I don’t give a shit if it’s Vex. I don’t know how you small-towners live. But, us city folk don’t walk around throwingour bodily fluids on people in public,” I hiss, not even trying to hide my anger.

She grabs my wrist, jerking me down the hall behind her. “Come on,” she groans.

Digging my heels in, forcing her to stop. “I’m —”

She gets in my face, eyes wide. “Shut up! You’re making it worse. Look around,” she whisper-shouts, stepping back.

“What?” I ask, glancing around us.

“You just became invisible. Marked. Cursed. Call it whatever you want. Now, shut the hell up, and let’s go,” she orders.

My eyes rake over the faces filling the hall, letting her drag my confused ass away. Realizing no one’s looking at me. It’s as though we’re alone with the way the crowd splits to avoid us.

Did she say cursed? What the actual fuck is wrong with these people?

eight

Happy Pancake

Tulip: 2008 Age: 11

Footsteps echo, bouncing off the concrete walls along with the tinkling of keys. I know it's the witch by the sound of her steps as I sit waiting on the edge of the dirty mattress.

As soon as she sees me waiting, she sneers through the crusty bars. “You know the routine. Come get your breakfast,” she orders, squinting her beady eyes at me.

---