We leave our shoes on the floor and Dorian takes my hand to help me up into the “ring.” The mattress below is an inflatable thing and it bounces when I step up onto it. There are so many people on it already, sweaty, half-naked bodies whacking each other with pillows, laughing, giddy with theplayof it all.
It’s what I used to love about going to the club: it was a place that gave you permission to be as freaky as you wanted.
It was a release. A release I badly need right now.
I spot familiar faces in the crowd. Ophelia and Princess are smacking each other with pillows, laughing too hard to stand up. Carver is taking it very seriously and smacks someone so thoroughly with the pillow, the other guy tumbles off the mattress.
The second I’m in, I get whacked from behind. I yelp and turn around.
There’s Dorian, holding his duck-covered pillow and wearing a smirk.
Oh, it’s on.
We pillow-fight, the soft material smacking me in the face, on my body. I bounce around on the platform, trying to stay upright. When I tumble, Dorian tumbles with me. I rain unholy pillow-hell on him until he’s forced to scramble away. A dinosaur-pillow comes at me, and a stranger takes Dorian’s place.
I become a pillow-warrior. I’m jumping from place to place, wielding my pillow indiscriminately. It feelsso goodto let this energy out and I find myself getting too into it. I roar like a warrior on a battle field as I spin and take out my latest victim.
She squeaks. “Mercy!” she calls out, but she’s laughing.
I come to a dead stop.
It’s Ginger. She’s entered the fray, and now she’s at my mercy.
The anger rises up again, hot and intense.
She looks so muchlike me. Well.Old me.
That bleached blonde hair.
My black collar with the pink heart in the center.
Those submissive, I’ll-do-whatever-you-want eyes.
I could end her. Take her out. Right now. Show her the full force of my rage. I lift my pillow to take her down. I get ready to whack her, but…
I can’t.
Ginger doesn’t fight back. Instead, she lifts her arms to protect herself and squeals with laughter, bracing for an impact that never comes. When I don’t hit her, she looks up at me and blinks curiously.
Something in me switches. The rage is gone, swept right out of my body, and all I can feel now is this intense, aching heartbreak.
Heartbreak for Ginger. Heartbreak forme. For that innocent, love-struck woman who wanted to believe in good people. Who dared totrust.
Is that such a crime?
I drop my pillow. Instead, I find myself wrapping my arms around Ginger, yanking her into a tight hug.
She gives a little squeak but then wraps her arms back around me, accepting my strange affection.
“It’s not your fault,” I tell her.
“What?” We can barely hear each other over the chaos around us.
“Run,” I say into her ear. “You’re perfect. You deserve so, so much better than that asshole.”
Her eyebrows knit, that pretty smile falling from her face. She looks rattled.
“Sorry,” she says, “I have to…I should…”
