Page 5 of Pretty Poisoned

She flashes me a smile as she leaves, pulling the door closed behind her, but not hard enough. It doesn't quite latch. I roll my eyes and get up to close it but freeze with my hand on the knob when I hear my name.

"I told you this would happen," Austin says. "Now I have to tell them Teagan isn't coming. After I went out of my way to—"

"I know," Blakely says. "I know. I just…I feel responsible for her. I'm worried about her. Maybe she could move in with us—just until we get pregnant."

"Blakely, no. We talked about this. We need our own space. And Teagan is an adult. You're not responsible for her, and she's not living with us. I'm putting my foot down on this. Just…I don't get it. What the fuck is wrong with her?"

"I don't know," she says. "I mean, she didn't get hot until the end of high school, and it was like by then, it was already too late. The damage was done. She was already this weird-ass loner who was obsessed with serial killers and true crime. She used to write letters to guys in prison."

"I know, you told me about the letters," Austin says. "So, Hunter just left?"

"Stormed out," Blakely says. "He's had it. He seemed really upset."

"That's even more reason not to invite her to live with us, Blakely," he says. "We're going to go back to the revolving door of random guys coming in and out of the house."

"To be fair, sometimes they're girls, but I know what you mean. It's almost worse that she did get hot, you know? Before, she was just a fucking weirdo who no one really paid much attention to. Now, she's like a weirdo with huge boobs and powers."

Austin laughs. "No, I totally know what you mean. I knew this would happen, though."

"I know," Blakely says. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I'll just tell them she's sick; that way, if she changes her mind, maybe they can reschedule her for next week. And if she doesn't change her mind, I'll tell them she accepted another position."

"Thanks, babe. You have no idea how much I appreciate that."

"Of course. Anything for you. Did you decide what you wanted to do for the bachelorette party?"

At the change of subject, I close the door slowly and silently. Realizing I only have a few minutes left before 9:00 PM, I strip down, and then go to my dresser and pull out a matching red lace lingerie set. After putting it on, I take out my makeup bag and apply foundation before going heavy on the black cat eyeliner and dark red lipstick. I brush out my long dark hair, teasing the top just a little to give it more volume, then examine myself in front of the mirror.

I tighten the straps as much as possible without causing my DD cups to fall out of the bra.

A weirdo with powers. It's not exactly an insult. I think people like Blakely—people who have always been beautiful and popular and desirable—have no idea what kind of power they could wield if they decided to use it against others.

But people like me who have been on the other side of it—the weirdos and the freaks—know exactly what we can do with it. And we don't feel bad about it, either. In a way, I've been making up for lost time. For most of my life, guys who looked like Hunter and Luca never noticed me, and that was the best-case scenario. The worst-case scenario was that theydidnotice me, and so did their girlfriends, and they terrorized me.

Now, I'm the terrorist. I can fuck whoever I want, so I do. And why shouldn't I?

I clip my microphone onto my bra, place my phone on the tripod, log in, and hit the 'live' button.

"Hey, stalkers. It's Teagan here. If you remember correctly, we are currently readingLet the Right One Inby Joe Ajvide Lindqvist. I will be reading chapters ten through twelve tonight, and I cannot wait to sink my teeth into this one, but…before we get started, I have an announcement of sorts…"

I pause, reading through the comments for just a second before continuing. "Aww, thank you guys so much. You are all so sweet. And thank you for 300K followers. I haven't forgotten about my giveaway, I'm just trying to think of what the perfect prize would be. You'll know when I know. Also, as my regular viewers know, I've recently started a true crime podcast:True Terrors with Teagan. You can find the link in my bio, and I encourage you all to come and follow me. Um, unfortunately, that little adventure is going to have me offline for just a little while, so I will have to leave you all on a bit of a cliffhanger tonight."

The crying face emojis start rolling in.

"I know, I know. But I will be back ASAP. I will post updates on my blog when I can, and I am going to miss you all so much. So, with that said, let's get into this story. For new viewers, I won't be able to read and respond to questions and commentswhile reading, so please save those until the end. I know. I'm a horrible, mean girl. But I'm your hor…rible mean girl."

A couple of hours later, I log off, change back into a t-shirt and shorts, and climb into bed.

Tomorrow. They'll fucking see. After this, they'll have to take me seriously.

TWO

Ipack a small bag and leave for L.A. before my sister gets home from work. I realize if this goes my way, my Camry is going to end up towed by this time tomorrow, but I'm not really worried about that.

This winter has been colder than we're used to in Southern California, and tonight is no different. I park in a nearby garage and walk to the venue, shivering and running my hands over my arms in a pathetic attempt to keep myself warm, suddenly wishing I'd at least worn jeans. As it is, I'm in combat boots and black shorts over fishnets; my top is red and strapless, and it laces up in the front like a corset. I join the masses huddled outside, waiting to get in, then spot a roped line off to the side labeled "VIP" which appears to be moving.

I double-check my ticket.

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