Page 12 of Destroyed (American Street Kings 4)

Knocking my fist against my skull, I wanted the voices gone. I wanted it to stop before it cracked me in half.

Louder…

Scream!

Scream, bitch. Scream for me.

Scream until your voice bleeds…

You feel that? The pain? It’s beautiful.

My little blue-haired pixie…

“Stop,” I whispered, my body shuddering, the voices getting louder. Too loud. It was too loud. It wouldn’t stop. It would never stop. “Please, stop.”

I will never stop.

“Please…”

A light knock on the door pulled me back, my mind reeling, the voices slowly quieting down, once again a mere echo of the past.

I wiped at my forehead, sweat trickling down the side of my face. Swinging my legs off the bed, I brushed my hand through my hair. “It’s open.”

Alyx came in and gave one look my way. “Neon, you okay?”

I inhaled deeply. “I’m fine.”

“You didn’t sleep, did you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

She closed the door behind her. “Did you take the sleeping pill?”

I nodded. “We should check the expiration date on those. Maybe it’s old. Fuck knows where Doc gets his meds, since we all know it ain’t legal.”

“Neon, the tablets are fine.”

I fiddled with the edge of my sheet. “Yeah, I know. It’s just weird since I’ve been sleeping so well for weeks, and then all of a sudden, I’m not. It’s not like anything changed.”

Alyx strolled over to my closet, pulling out a pair of black skinny jeans and purple tank top.

I frowned. “Is there a reason I’m getting dressed at,” I glanced at my bedside clock, “nine a.m. on a Sunday?”

“The guys are planning a barbeque. Manic’s already marinating the meat.”

“Again, it’s nine a.m. on a fucking Sunday.”

She shrugged. “I know. But there’s something we need to do before the festivities start.”

I scowled. “A barbeque with a bunch of bikers is hardly classified as a festivity, but I’ll bite. What is it that wehaveto do?”

She opened the bottom drawer of my cabinet, pulling out a small box, her smile the size of fucking Japan. “We’re coloring your hair.”

“We’re what?”

“It’s time, Neon. I can no longer deal with you being some kind of dark, ash blonde…ish.”

I got up from the bed. “First of all, it’s dark blonde…not ash blonde-ish. Secondly, how long have you had that box stashed away in one ofmydrawers?”

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