Page 211 of Beautiful Venom
“What the fuck are you doing?” I whisper. “We’re only here to watch.”
He takes another step when the door to her house blasts open.
A petite girl in a baggy T-shirt rushes outside, in fucking flip-flops, her dark hair gathered in a bandana. And she’s holding a gun in her right hand.
“Let her go, Dave!” she shouts.
He immediately steps away, lifting both hands in the air. “Whoa. Fuuucking hell, you bitch.”
“Fuck you, asshole!” Still pointing the gun at him, she pulls Violet to her side.
I’m standing now.
Even from here, I can see the way she holds herself—defiant, sharp, shoulders squared despite the filth that surrounds her.
Dahlia Thorne. Violet’s foster sister and only form of family.
Her pictures don’t do her justice.
She’s much more of a firecracker in real life.
Her eyes, which I know are hazel, are blazing with fire, her grip on the gun steady.
She’s shooing away the drunk despite his slurred curses. Her sister stands just behind her, wide-eyed and fragile, but Dahlia’s firmly pushing the drunkard back.
She’s been through this before.
Hmm. So she’s the reason Violet hasn’t ended up in a ditch somewhere.
The drunkard lurches toward her again, but she pushes harder, her voice clear and guttural. “Fuck off, Dave! Lay off the booze.”
This time, he stumbles away into the night, lost in the gutter.
She keeps pointing the gun until he’s out of view.
A fighter.
My index finger twitches and I roll my ring. A sudden urge I’ve never had before takes root in my head.
I want to break her, see beneath her skin and find out what makes her tick.
Dahlia wraps her arm around her sister as she guides her to the house. The contrast is clear even in the darkness. Violet is fairer, more demure, and a wallflower. Dahlia is tanner, louder, and has an energy that can be felt from a mile away.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Vi.” She side-hugs her as they walk.
“Where did you get the gun?” her sister scolds.
“Mr. Song paid me to clean it. He wanted to give me ten bucks, but I negotiated my way to twenty. Isn’t that awesome?”
“It’s dangerous. Give it back to him.”
“It’s empty, but Dave is an idiot so—” She stops, then laughs awkwardly.
“Was that your stomach? You didn’t eat all day, did you?” Violet asks and starts to push her away, but Dahlia hugs her tighter.
“You know I hate cooking. I was so busy with school, I forgot.”
“What a child.” Violet sighs and hands her the plastic bag. “Here, I bought you a sandwich. I’ll cook you something for tomorrow.”
