Page 41 of Satan's Spawn
A bunch of “dayums” and “ohhh burnnnn’s” follow her dig, and the next thing I know Hendrix is lunging for the redhead, Archer barely making it in time to step between them.
Alexis looks on as if the drama is nothing short of entertainment, but says nothing.
Because she doesn’t need to.
“I will fucking cut you!” Hendrix hisses at Annalie, grabbing a handful of the sesame chicken she dropped on one of the tables and throwing it at her.
“You bitch!” Annalie shoots up, chunks of meat rolling off her and onto the floor, and at this point Archer is dragging Hendrix off kicking and screaming before any of the monitors step in.
I stare at Alexis, her face breaking into a vicious smirk. “Something I can do for you, skank?”
I stay quiet, knowing somewhere deep inside this pretentious snob is a very insecure little girl desperate for attention.
After deciding she isn’t worth a response I turn, sitting down my heels to pick up all the fallen items from my bag.
I’m stuffing a couple folders inside a pocket when familiar black combat boots appear at my side.
I’m on high alert as my gaze crawls to the door, heart rate spiking when I realize Archer and Hendrix are no longer in the room.
I’m alone with these bastards. Withhim.
“Need a hand?” Crayton’s tone is mocking. He lowers himself to balance on his feet, picking up one of my gel pens, examining it.
“Give it back. Now.” I do my best to sound assertive.
He holds it out as if he’s about to, but when I reach for it, Crayton breaks the pen in half with his thumb. Then throws the pieces on the floor in front of me. Proceeding to grab an orange one, he does the same to it.
If I wasn’t mortified and livid, I’d probably ask him how the hell he does that with one hand.
“Fucking stop it!” I screech, grabbing more stuff hastily and tossing it in the bag.
Crayton stands, looking down on me as if I’m a pathetic kitten. “Fine. How ’bout a truce?” He holds his hand out to help me up.
I look at it as if it’s covered in pig shit.
“Yeah, no thanks.” I go back to gathering my shit.
I’m picking up the last few sheets of paper when Crayton’s thick boot steps onto my hand. Hard. Forcing a yelp to rise from my throat.
What the fuck it he doing?!
The yelp turns to a weep as he adds more weight, the spearing pain becoming so intense I’m sure the bones under my skin are being crushed.
“You were saying?” He tilts his head.
“You’re hurting me.” I wince, trying not to cry while I pull my hand out from under the rubber sole. The movement only makes the stinging worse.
“If I offer you my hand, you fucking take it.”
“Or else what? You break mine?”
His lip curls. “So the new girl catches on quick.”
When he adds more pressure, I hear the sound of joints cracking, making me seconds away from bursting into hysterics. Luckily for my dignity, Archer reappears before that happens, screaming from across the room.
Crayton doesn’t release me until Archer is at our side threatening to call his grandfather.
When I’m free, I immediately rub the sore hand with the other one, Archer’s soothing touches and pleas to leave with him turning into background noise.
