Page 233 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

I passed out.

Chapter 33

Aran

THE THIRD CHALLENGE

Metamorphosis—Day 45, hour 10.

I touched my toes.

Palming the grass of the arena, I stretched and focused on releasing the tightness in my calves and thighs as I prepared for the third competition.

It had all started when I was born.

After that, everything had gone to absolute shit.

It had also started this morning at 5:00 a.m., when the bedroom door had slammed open.

Startled out of a pleasant dream where I was eating my mother’s heart, I’d sat up from the floor, disoriented in a cocoon of blankets.

Blinking bleary eyes, I’d barely been able to make out the vampyre’s figure in the darkness.

Lothaire had pointed his finger at me and barked, “Arabella, why have you been chosen to compete again? Vegar, Zenith, and Luka, you’ve also been selected.”

His single eye had glared at me accusingly like it was my fault the gods hated me.

I’d pulled the blankets back over my head and gone to sleep.

At some point, you stopped caring and accepted that life was not worth living.

I’d reached that point fifteen years ago.

Now, as I stretched on the field of the arena and waited for the competition to begin, there was a sharp pounding in the front of my skull.

I pressed delicately at the bruises on my face and winced.

Shockingly, pushing on the contusions while I prayed for death didn’t help with pain management.

I tilted my face up to the wind.

The party had been three days ago, and I still had a headache.

The fact that my drunk self had had the audacity to climb into a shower with the kings and then sleep in their bed was beyond my understanding.

My memories were foggy.

The only good thing was the kings hadn’t mentioned it, and the three of us just went on pretending I hadn’t gotten naked in front of them.

The hangover kept me distracted.

Turned out drinking three full bottles of demon brew in a few hours resulted in a feeling similar to an elephant stomping on your skull.

In the future, I’d stop at two bottles.

People always said that moderation was the key to a happy life. Although, who were these supposed happy people?

They sounded fake.

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