Page 41 of Savage Vicious Heir: Part Two

“Meanie.” I pout right as the DJ changes up the music.

Some eighties pop rock song blasts out of the speakers and I’m hit with a memory of me and my parents in the kitchen. The two of them dancing to this very song. So happy and healthy and… alive.

“I love this one,” I shriek excitedly, darting towards the dance floor.

“We should take her home,” someone murmurs behind me but I’m too lost in the music to care.

I weave my hands in the air like the other girls around me, closing my eyes and giving over to the beat while the raspy voice sings about six strings and diners and dreaming of running away.

And I’m smiling.

Not because I’m drunk or I’m dancing or because for once in my life I don’t feel like the scarred, damaged girl afraid of her own shadow.

I’m smiling because this song reminds me what life was like before the accident. Before Mum died and Dad got sick.

It reminds me of a better time.

A time when my house was filled with love and hope and happiness.

“Well aren’t you a cute little thing.” A heavy arm wraps around my waist and yanks me back into a hard chest. Panic slams into me and I freeze for a second, until my fight instinct takes over.

“Get off me,” I shriek. “Get off?—”

“Relax, we’re only dancing. We’re?—”

“I think she said get off, dickhead.” Raine glares at the boy—the man—holding me.

“Jealous, babe? I’m down for a threesome if you’re?—”

My elbow connects with his stomach, and he lets out a pained groan. “Fucking bitch.”

Raine reaches for me, pulling me into her side as Tally and Liv call for security.

Two burly doormen fight their way through the crowd and Liv whispers something to one of them. He gives her a small nod before grabbing the man by the scruff of his neck and shoving him towards the door.

“Are you okay?” Raine asks.

“I-I…” I choke on a sob.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” She grabs my hand, and we follow the girls out of the bar.

The cool spring air hits me and the world tilts. “S-stop,” I inhale a sharp breath, trying to stave off the crippling wave of nausea.

“What’s wrong?” All three of them stare at me with concern.

My eyelids flutter as I try to stay focused. “I don’t feel so good. I—” I vomit all over the path.

“Shit, okay. I’m calling Oak,” Tally says.

“No, no,” I murmur, bent double as the nights worth of shots and cocktails burns my oesophagus and splatters all over the ground.

“Just call a taxi,” Raine suggests as she rubs my back.

“Sorry,” I murmur. “I’m so—” Another wave of nausea rocks through me.

“Abi?” someone yells but I’m falling.

Down. Down. Down.

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