Page 45 of Severance

“Weren’t you one of his girls?” a deep male voice booms behind me.

I rub at my eyes and look around. I’m in a den and there are people here. Smoking. Drinking. Laughing.

“Virgin Mary.” Some girl’s drunk giggle drifts from the opposite side of the room.

Anger courses through me. I walk over to the poster, grab the bottom corner, and pull it off the wall. The sound of ripping paper and a candleholder rolling across the floor fills the room.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Someone’s hand grips my shoulder in an attempt to drag me away.

“Don’t touch me!” I shake him off and turn around.

In front of me is Snow White, and I immediately wonder where the hell she and Mikah have been. Her stare is cold and angry. She’s holding a drink in one hand and her other is squeezed into a fist. “You’re not the only girl he ever dated.”

I’m trembling with rage and defeat, drowning under the weight of her words.

“Just because he died when he was with you doesn’t mean shit. I gave him four years! I was there for him when he was at his lowest, and then you came along and snatched him away.” Her voice pitches. “You know what you are? A three-month crash course in how to deflower a virgin.”

Laughter erupts around the room.

“Fuck you, whore!” I cry out, fighting angry tears. No one speaks that way about Dakota and me! No one!

“Cat fight!” someone yells.

I’ve never hit anyone in my entire life, but the sudden urge to destroy pushes me over the edge. I jump at her, fast and determined, and the liquid splashing across my face stalls me only for a brief second.

“Fucking amateur.” She laughs, tossing her empty cup to the floor.

I throw my body at her, fists flying. My hair’s in the way and I can’t see anything, but I hit whatever is in my way until a pair of strong hands grab me.

“Stop it,” Mikah says, pulling me away from Snow White.

“Let me go!” I scream, clawing at his forearms, my legs kicking.

“Fucking stop it already!” He drags me out of the room like a rag doll.

In the hallway, I’m propped against the wall, his rough hands on my shoulders, keeping me in place.

“Calm the fuck down, okay?!” There’s moisture in my eyes, so I can’t make out his face, but I can smell his familiar Marlboro scent.

“Let me go,” I whimper, but parts of me have already given up. I’m too drunk and too dizzy with rage to fight against his hold.

Amused laughter inside the den only feeds my insecurities more. I’m not sure what to believe at this point.

My chest caves and every beat of my heart slams into my eardrums like a mallet.

Mikah lifts up my chin with his fingers and looks into my eyes. “Are you high?”

I attempt to catch my breath and I shake my head.

“Did you take something?”

My fuming consciousness is madly flipping through everything that just happened and I slur the first thing that comes to mind, “Your friend Zeke says hello.”

I hear a heavy sigh. Mikah’s face finally begins to swim into focus. He’s mad at me. I can tell by the way the area above the bridge of his nose is twisted.

“I’m sorry about your hoodie,” I say, fiddling with the sticky, wet fabric that’s plastered to my chest.

“You’ll buy me another one,” Mikah mumbles, his hold on me loosening.

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