Page 76 of Pretty Poisoned

"How do you deal with your own families?" I ask.

"What do you mean?"

"Like…my parents and my sister. They're upset. They think I'm crazy; they want me to come home. I don't think they'll ever be supportive or understanding…you know? They think I have problems anyway."

"Well, what kind of problems?" River asks.

"Like…social problems."

"We don't really have families outside of this one," Brady says.

"River and I met in a foster home in high school," Hazel says. "Brady's dad threw him out when he was seventeen, and they haven't spoken to him since."

"Oh…I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so. We can't really relate to you in that respect. But…they're your family, right? You told us that your sister is your friend. And you're their child, so…they want you to be happy. Just tell them you're happy," River says.

Brady laughs hard. "Oh, god," he says. "That's a good one, Riv. I swear to god, you have to be perpetually fucking high for some of this shit to come out of your mouth."

"What?" River says. "It's true, right?"

"It's a nice idea, baby," Hazel says.

"They're letting people in," Brady says. "We should go out there."

"I'm going to use the restroom back here first," I tell them. "I don't want to wait for the one out there later. I'll meet you guys out there."

I grab my purse and walk down the hallway toward the bathrooms I passed earlier. I'm on my way back out when a security guard grabs me by the arm. "How the hell did you get back here? You're not supposed to be back here," he says.

"I'm with the band," I say, trying to slip out of his grip. "You're hurting my arm—let go of me."

"I don't think so," he says. "You know what, though? If you show me your tits, I'll let you back into the show. And if you suck my dick, I'll let you backstage afterward."

"No! Get off of me!"

"Come on," he says. "This isn't my first time working a Gods of Tomorrow concert. I know how you all are. What is it they call you? Bloodsluts?"

"I'm not a fucking bloodslut."

"I could just make you, you know."

"Hey!" Declan shouts. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Small security breach. Just escorting her out," he says. "Sorry for the commotion."

Declan grabs the man by the collar of his shirt. "Get your fucking hands off of her before I slit your throat and watch you bleed out like the pig you are," he says through clenched teeth. "She's my fucking family. Don't touch her, don't even fucking look at her."

Free of his grip, I back myself into the wall and stay there frozen while Declan looks down at the shorter man like he's going to rip him to shreds.

The rage-filled look in his eyes looks good on him when it isn't directed toward me.

"I-I'm sorry, man," the guy says. "I didn't realize you knew her."

"Why are you still standing here!?" he yells. "I'm about to slice you open just for fun now—get the fuck out of my face!"

I look at the security guard and smirk, flipping him my middle finger before he scurries away.

"Are you okay?" Declan asks. He closes the space between us and runs his hand over my arm—the one the security guard had in his grip.

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