Page 36 of Snitches and Serpents

I drag in unsteady breaths. But they sound muffled in my ears. As if I’m under water.

Tristan has been inside my room. Again. And he has put a dead rat in here. Right in the middle of all my things.

Cold, searing fury flickers to life inside me. It burns through my veins, pushing aside the nausea and the dread.

This is over the line. He hates me? Fine. But putting a dead rat in my room. That’s crossing a line. It’s gross beyond belief and an actual health hazard. What if it has touched any of my clothes? I might get a disease from it.

Flexing my fingers, I drag in long breaths through my nose.

God, I can’t even remember the last time I was this angry. He is simply?—

My thoughts cut off abruptly, leaving my entire head unnaturally and deafeningly silent, as I notice a small bulge in the thin cover on my bed.

I don’t think I’m even breathing anymore as I walk up to my bed, staring at it as if I’m in a trance. Blood pounds in my ears as I grip the edge of the cover. Then I rip it off the bed.

A dead rat lies there on my white sheets.

Something snaps inside me.

I scream.

It’s not a pitiful cry of fear.

It’s a roar of fury.

Stalking over to the corner, I snatch up one of the cardboard boxes that I was going to recycle and then grab the broom next to them. With quick jerky movements, I sweep the dead rat from my bed and into the box. Then I do the same with the one on the floor and the one outside the door as well.

Once they’re all in the box, I slam the door shut behind me so hard that it rattles in its hinges. Without even bothering to lock it, I simply stride down the hall towards the front door. People jump out of my way when they see me coming. But I don’t think it’s because of the dead rats in the box.

Fury courses through my entire body like streaks of electricity. I feel as if I could set the world on fire.

And I am going to set something on fire. I’m going to burn every single piece of my bed linen until there is nothing left but ash. But first, I have something else to do.

Smoke practically billows behind me as I storm across the residential area until I reach Tristan’s house. This time, I don’t bother with the doorbell. I simply raise one hand and pound my fist against the door over and over again until someone swears loudly from inside the house.

“I’ll deal with it,” Tristan calls in response to whoever cursed me out.

I don’t even care anymore. With the fury coursing through me, I feel as if I could beat them all into the ground regardless of how physically outmatched I am against all of them. Let them try. Tristan put a rat in my bed. It’s all-out war now.

Stomping footsteps come from inside the hall. I move back a step so that I won’t be hit by the door if he flings it open the way he did last time. Then I adjust my grip on the cardboard box in my hand.

Just like last time, Tristan shoves the door open with much more force than necessary. When it swings open to reveal that I was already standing a safe distance away, he looks a little disappointed. Then his gaze lands on my face, and a mocking smirk spreads across his stupid mouth.

“Elle,” he says. His gaze slides up and down my body, and amusement lights his eyes. “You look angry. Has something happened to?—”

Heaving the box, I throw the three dead rats right into his face.

The stiff, furry animals hit his forehead, nose, and left cheek before gravity takes over. Falling down, they bounce against his chest before they plummet to the ground. They hit the stone porch with three distinct thuds that seem to echo across the entire universe.

The whole residential area around us is silent and still. I swear, the wind isn’t even blowing anymore and the leaves stop rustling halfway through.

For a few seconds, Tristan just stands there, staring at me with wide eyes full of disbelief.

He looks absolutely flabbergasted.

It’s so satisfying that I have to suppress a sudden laugh that tries to rip from my throat. God, I feel like I could climb mountains or run marathons right now. My entire body is suddenly buzzing with energy.

“Here,” I say, flicking my wrist towards the dead rats now lying right in front of his feet. And even I am surprised by how strong and confident my voice sounds. “I think these are yours.”

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