Page 53 of Voracious

Maybe if I die, I’ll reincarnate into a dog. Stacey likes dogs. She’ll cuddle me.

I like her cuddles.

Or maybe I can haunt her – make sure she doesn’t meet anyone else.

“Amp it up,” Archie orders. “Then I want him treated and freed.”

“Why are you freeing him?” Cassie asks, still sobbing. “Put him in my room and I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

I can’t wait to see Stacey beat the shit out of Cassie.

“I gave you an order,” Archie tells the man sticking up for me. “Up the voltage. That’ll teach the little cunt not to fight back.”

Stacey fought back, and I wanted to as well.

Is she alright? Where’s my phone so I can call her?

I don’t think they can hear me.

Wankers.

Cassie screams, Bernadette sighs and tells her daughter to get out, then all sounds are blocked from my ears as electricity shoots right through my skull.

18

STACEY

Music is playing downstairs as more and more people flood the manor.

Before Barry left, he made sure his and Aria’s guards knew to check every invite and to search for weapons. I know I should be nervous, but I think the shots Ty made me take have softened my anxiety a bit.

I tried to call Nora earlier, but she declined it then turned her phone off.

Kyle told me to stop. She’s on her son’s side, no matter what. I don’t want any sort of relationship with her, but I don’t want Chris to have her blessing either.

Still nothing from Kade. He’s back in Scotland, and if Bernadette does what the doctor says and gives him a rest, he might reach out.

Base and Dez are downstairs decorating as per Luciella and Tylar’s demands, both dressed as superheroes. Since Base is huge in both muscle and height, he’s wearing the Batman costume, and Dez, slimmer and shorter, is Robin.

All three of us are still in the huge main bathroom, sitting on the stone bench in the middle of the room while we do our hair in the floor-to-ceiling mirror that spans the full wall.

We all have high ponytails on either side of our heads, backcombed and sprayed with glitter, and fake blood splattered over our skin. We wear short tutus and tight corsets, our Pleaser boots from dancing and socks that go over our knees. Luciella is in all white, so the fake blood stands out more – especially in her blonde hair – while Tylar loves being colourful, so she’s wearing pink.

I’m wearing all black, and my tutu is so short, I have to wear tight girl boxers to hide my ass. My corset nearly pushes my breasts to my chin.

We fit our Purge masks into place, the purple neon crosses at the eyes and mouth illuminating when we turn off the lights to check the glow-in-the-dark feature works.

Luciella uses a tube of fake blood to splatter her toy rifle, my bat and Tylar’s plastic machete, and then she writes on my chestTouch here.

I scoff. “Really?”

“It looks good,” she replies, laughing, then writesHands hereon her chest too.

We take a photo with our fake weapons, and after over fifty, Tylar tells Luciella she’s going overboard. We make our way downstairs to the main room, where a DJ booth has been set up in the corner, lasers and strobes lighting up the place, and the hoops sit in the middle of the dance floor, some of our older students playing around on them.

“You did good,” I say to Tylar.

“I’m a woman ofmanytalents. Now – let’s drink!”

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