Page 33 of Beautiful Venom
You must be, because your cunt felt like it hadn’t swallowed a dick in a long time. Almost like a virgin.
My cheeks heat, but I double down.
And you fuck a lot of virgins?
No. Not a fan.
Thank God. No virgin should suffer your vicious way of having sex.
Was it also suffering when you squirted all over my dick?
I rub my thighs together but type the entire opposite.
Uh-huh. Worst sex of my life.
Doubt it. You were swallowing my cock so deep. Almost as if you couldn’t get enough.
No, I wasn’t. Anyway, I’m just telling you. Chlamydia is nasty.
I’ll take your word for it.
You’ll suffer like a motherfucker.
Go to sleep, Dahlia.
I try to think of other insults, but I’m too agitated, so I throw the phone on the bed.
The necklace shines under the light and I grab the silver talon between my fingers, staring at the hideous serpentine chain.
Doesn’t matter. The discomfort and shame will fade away. The most important thing is that I’m in.
Sooner or later, I’ll be able to identify Vi’s attacker.
Violet.
The urge to see her beats beneath my skin like a ticking time bomb.
I change into jeans and a T-shirt, then throw on a sweater before I head out of the dorm. I ride my bike to town.
Graystone General Hospital is huge and renowned for having large departments that benefit from the founding families’ extensive funding.
It’s also the prime beneficiary of Graystone Hope Foundation, which finances countless expensive surgeries throughout the year. It’s the foundation that offered me the scholarship at GU and is paying for Violet’s medical expenses and her stay in the hospital.
Forty-five days ago, my sister was driven by a black van with a fake plate to the hospital in Stantonville, where we used to live. A man whose face was entirely hidden dropped her on a gurney and sped away in the van before he could be identified. My sister was unconscious and had a wound at the back of her head and multiple less serious injuries all over her body. They transferred her to Graystone General Hospital because it’s bigger and has a trauma center.
Since then, she’s been in a coma for a month and a half. I’ve seen the bills she’s incurred during her stay. Bills I wouldn’t be able to afford even if I sold myself for parts on the black market.
So I’m thankful beyond words to the foundation. I don’t even mind taking pictures with them and accepting charity money. I don’t care if it's the rich people’s way to avoid taxes. At least they’re paying for the tube that’s literally keeping my only lifeline breathing.
I lost my parents, but I’ll never lose Vi. Not even if I have to offer my soul to the Devil.
I take the elevator to the fifth floor, where they keep comatose patients.
I greet the night shift nurses. They’ve seen me practically daily since Vi was admitted. The head nurse, Mrs. Hales, a plump blond with rosy cheeks, smiles at me and then frowns.
“Dahlia, honey. You look pale. Have you forgotten to eat again?”
“I’m fine. How’s Violet?”
