Page 32 of Craving Venom

“Right,” Maya teases, her grin downright evil. “You were staring at your phone. Don’t tell me you’re actually texting someone. Wait—” Her eyes widen dramatically. “Is this it? Is Faith Collins finally embracing her social life? Holy shit, I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”

“Fuck off,” I say, glaring at her, but my lips twitch despite myself.

“What’s all this?” Derek asks, slipping into the group effortlessly.

“Oh, we’re just roasting Faith,” Lisa says, waving a hand in my direction. “She’s giving us too much material to work with tonight.”

“She does have that whole tortured academic vibe,” Derek says, nodding sagely.

“Okay, is this ‘pick on Faith’ night, or…?” I start, but Lisa cuts me off with a weirdly serious expression.

“Wait, hold on. While we’re all here, does anyone else ever stop and think about how fucking weird it is that we’re doing this? Like, partying. Existing. Living. Doesn’t it ever feellike… I don’t know… we’re all part of some kind of fucked-up experiment?”

I raise an eyebrow. “What the hell are you talking about now?”

“No, no, hear me out,” Lisa says, leaning forward. “Think about it. What if we’re all just pawns in some sick game? Like, God or whoever’s up there, is sitting back with a bag of popcorn, laughing at all the dumb shit we do. Every time we trip, every bad decision, every awkward hookup, it’s all just entertainment for them.”

“That’s insane,” I say, but Maya’s already nodding along.

“Actually, it kind of makes sense,” Maya says, swirling her drink. “Like, what if every time you lose your keys or stub your toe, that’s them fucking with you? Just to see how you’ll react.’”

“Exactly!” Lisa says, her eyes lighting up. “It’s like a reality show, and we’re all too stupid to realize we’re the contestants.”

Nina, who’s been mostly quiet until now, jumps in with a sly grin. “Or worse—what if we’re the experimentandthe test subjects? Like, they’re trying to see how much bullshit we can handle before we lose our minds. Every breakup, every job rejection, it’s all part of some cosmic ‘stress test.’”

Derek whistles low, shaking his head. “That’s dark as fuck, but honestly? It checks out. Shit’s way too random to just be random, you know?”

“You guys are ridiculous,” I say, but they’re on a roll now.

“Or,” Lisa continues, “what if every time something goes wrong, it’s not random at all? It’s on purpose. Like, we’re being punished for not living up to whatever standards they’ve set for us.” She pauses for effect, then adds dramatically, “You fuck up, and they send you to the back of the line. Start over. Try again.”

“That would explain why nothing ever goes right,” Maya says, nodding solemnly. “It’s like a cosmic version of Monopoly.”

“And don’t even get me started on deja vu,” Nina says, pointing her finger. “That’s just them rewinding the tape to see if we’ll make the same mistake twice. Spoiler alert: we always do.”

Lisa’s practically glowing with excitement now. “Right? And think about it—what’s the one thing everyone’s always chasing? Love, success, happiness. But no one can ever seem to actually fucking get there. Why? Because it’s a rigged system. They dangle the carrot just out of reach, and we keep running like idiots.”

I stare at her, wondering if she’s genuinely lost it or if this is just the booze talking. Either way, I’m not about to feed into it.

“That’s the most depressing shit I’ve ever heard,” I say flatly.

“Depressing or true?” Lisa shoots back, raising an eyebrow.

“Definitely depressing,” I say, crossing my arms.

Maya clinks her cup against Lisa’s. “I’m with you. We’re all fucked. Cheers to that.”

“Cheers,” Nina agrees, joining in.

I roll my eyes as they all laugh and drink, their ridiculous theories somehow bonding them even further. God, they’re so fucking brainwashed. “Experiment by God,” my ass. I can’t decide if they’re joking or if they’ve actually convinced themselves this is real. Either way, it’s wild.

I press my lips into a thin line, zoning out as their conversation drifts into even weirder territory. My phone burns in my pocket again, and I pull it out, unlocking it without thinking.

I stare at the empty message thread for a good thirty seconds. This is a stupid fucking idea. A really stupid fucking idea. But before I can talk myself out of it, my fingers start typing:

Still too busy basking in your superiority to answer?

I hesitate for half a second before hitting send, and the second my thumb leaves the screen, regret floods me. What the fuck am I doing?

---