Page 88 of The Venom We Bleed

Madison’s lips press together for a brief moment as if she doesn’t want to answer, but then she does. “Maybe not as well as they know each other, but I’ve gone to school with them a lot longer than you, and I…” Her words drift off and the look she gives me is almost helpless. “I know I might seem out of touch with everything at school,” she continues. “People ignore me, though—they forget that I’m around and they say things they may not otherwise reveal.”

Now, she has my interest. “What do you know?” I demand, leaning closer, dropping my arms.

Her brow furrows. “It’s not what I know, it’s just that—” She closes her arms around herself, rubbing up and down as if she has a chill. “The Scorpion Kings aren’t boys. They’re dangerous, and I like you. You’re not what I expected.”

I know what that means. “I’m not a cold, stuck-up bitch?” I ask, arching a brow.

Her snort of laughter is warm and relieving. She lowers her arms back to her sides and shakes her head. “No, youare,” she corrects and then grins, “but I think I like that about you.”

I smile back at her, surprised by how easy it is. It’s easy in a way that it isn’t with Roquel. With Roquel, there’s a score, a debt. She got me a job and I give her information—gossip. Shefeeds on it. I appreciate the kindness she showed me in my first introduction to Silverwood, but at the end of the day, her friendship comes with strings. It’s clear that Mads’ doesn’t. It almost makes me want to try again.Almost.

“I know what I’m getting into,” I tell her. “It doesn’t take a blind man to see that they’re using me for something.” The fact burns something foul in my gut. Anger is red hot, a seething demon prowling for release in the back of my mind.

Yeah, I definitely need to hit up Cory’s gym again soon. I’ve let the frustration build up far too much.

Mads’ next words shock me back into the conversation. “I don’t know that they’re using you,” she comments, teeth sinking into her lower lip as her face contorts in thought. She releases it with a huff and gives me a sad look. “You have to understand. All three of them have had a rough upbringing—a lot of kids in Silverwood Public have, but they’re different.”

“I know that Lex’s parents are dead,” I state, “and that Nolan’s dad took off a few years back.” Even if I'm not from their side of the tracks, everyone knows everyone’s business in Silverwood.

“Lex’s dad killed his mom and then himself. Lex was with his aunt at the time—his parents were being investigated by social services—it’s probably the only thing that saved his life,” Mads says. “And Nolan’s dad was abusive to his mom. A lot of people in town think Nolan killed him after his mom was sent to the emergency room. She was pregnant and she lost the baby due to a beating he gave her.”

A dull throb pulses behind my right eye. My chest aches and clenches. I can’t keep looking at her as she tells me this shit, so I turn and look out over the lounge, not seeing a damn thing in front of me.

A soft hand finds my arm and I know it’s Mads. “I think a lot of people were surprised that you came out of your parents’mess as strong as you did,” she says, her voice low. “None so much as them.”

“What does me being ‘strong’ have to do with anything?” I snap, looking back at her. “Do you think they’re hanging around because I didn’t bow to their commands the second I stepped into school?” I doubt that’s it. Nothing is ever so simple.

Mads doesn’t even flinch at my tone. She keeps going as if I’d never spoken in the first place. “The Scorpion Kings are survivors and so are you. I see that.Theysee that. Your strength is something they crave. They’re addicted to it. Their attention—theirblessing—is the same as drinking a scorpion’s venom straight. If you’re not careful, soon you’ll start to bleed just like them. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I don’t have it in me to tell her it’s too late. Dead people can’t feel pain and that’s exactly what I am. Juliet Donovan died months ago on the front lawn of her childhood home as her father was taken into police custody and her mother broke down in front of the entire town. I flatlined that night and my corpse is the one calling the shots now. No one even seems to notice.

Carefully, so as not to frighten her, I extract my arm from her hand and take a step back. The bartender slaps down several drinks on the end of the counter and I move towards it numbly. I gather the drinks and put them on the tray.

Mads’ expression is full of sorrow when I turn back to face her. “Think about what I said,” she tells me. “And know that if you ever need a friend, I’ll be here.”

I don’t respond. I have nothing to say. Her words hit far too close for comfort. They’re a warning, alright. A tale of cautionary dangers—get too close to the Scorpion Kings and they’ll kill me. They’ll drain me dry of this supposed strength of mine and when I show even the slightest bit of weakness … what then?

Hours later, when my shift ends, I’m still thinking about her words as I shrug into the clothes I’d worn to school and stuff the rest into my backpack to be taken back and washed. I head out into the parking lot, but instead of Gio’s Firebird, I spot Lex’s black SUV with the headlights turned off at the back of the lot.

Lex. Not Gio or Nolan. My heart threads an unsteady beat in my chest. I march towards the SUV, wishing I’d brought a jacket, and round it, popping the passenger side door. Lex smiles from the driver’s side. I don’t say anything as I slide into the seat and close the door behind me.

It's warm in the cab and there's a familiar emo rock song playing on the radio at a low volume that almost makes me relax. It's something I'd listen to if I were on my own—a musical taste that I used to hide from Bran and Avery because every time something like it came across one of their mainstream stations, they'd scoff and roll their eyes in annoyance before changing the channel.

Rich girls aren't supposed to like Hollywood Undead. They're not supposed to scream to Disturbed or cry with Linkin Park. Rich girls are supposed to like things that aren't as deep, easy repetitive beats with lyrics shallower than a kiddie pool. They aren't supposed to relate to the songs about betrayal and heartache and neglect. Only weirdos listen to those songs. Only the kids who hate themselves walk around dressed in black all of the time and make a hobby out of slitting their wrists. At least, that’s what society believes. Doesn’t matter that it’s bullshit. Anyone can hurt. Anyone can love good music, and now I can too.

Maybe my dad’s betrayal hadn’t fucked up my entire life. Because of him, I can do whatever the fuck I want now. So, I lean forward and turn the dial-up, letting "The Kill" by Thirty Seconds to Mars drown out all of the shit in my head if only for a few minutes.

Lex is quiet as he drives out of the parking lot. Street lights pass overhead, illuminating the inside of the vehicle briefly before disappearing us into the dark once more, until the next one arrives and does it all over again. Hanging a right, Lex drives us onto the on-ramp for the interstate. As he speeds up, the front of the SUV trembles slightly and then calms as it gets over whatever hurdle had sent the hood shaking. Signs pass us on the highway. Silverwood 32 miles. Eastpoint 190 miles. Eastpoint. I wonder if that would be a good place to rebuild my life when I graduate. Eastpoint University was my top college of choice last year. This year, I’ll have to apply for the underprivileged program if I want to make it in.

They’re survivors …Mads’ words circle in my head like a pack of starving vultures, plucking at any stray thought and reminding me of our conversation. I cast a look in Lex’s direction.

Survivors are dangerous because you never know what they did to become one.

“Juliet?” Lex’s voice penetrates my maudlin thoughts. “Are you okay?”

Silverwood 20 miles. My chest constricts. “I’m fine,” I say. Minutes pass, and Lex doesn't respond to my obvious lie. Instead, when the next off-ramp comes up, he diverges from the road. I sit up.

"Where are we going?" I demand as the SUV veers onto the exit.

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