I pause, the noise in my head suddenly silenced.Pink and black glitter.Pink and black glitter at the vanity where I was sitting earlier.
Pink and black…
Everything goes numb, the outside noises turning into a ringing in my ears.
Pink and black glitterwings.
Vomit rises in my throat.
I slowly step toward the seat, and the closer I get, the more I know: those are my wings.
Those are my wings.
They’re mywings.
My.
Fucking.
Wings.
I barely realize I’m picking them up, my gaze snagging on the droplets of blood staining the pink, the torn fabric, the ripped harness… I hold them up to the light, letting the glitter flicker on the walls—a kaleidoscope of colors that makes my jaw begin to tremble.
I can’t catch my breath.
I’m so focused on the wings that I don’t see the shadow of someone much larger than me at my back in the mirror until it’s too late.
Shit—
He lunges at me at the same moment that I scream.
I jump out of his way and grab the wings, making him crash into the chair. He recovers as quickly as it takes me to grabanother chair and lift it off the floor. I swing sideways, but I’m not fast enough. He catches the leg and pushes back, sending my back faltering onto the counter lip.
Motherf—
The pain seizes my lower back for less than a fraction of a second. Still, it’s too long. He throws the chair into the mirrors behind him and grabs me by my hair. I yell and screech, beating his hands and kicking. Glass shatters all over the room. I hear it crunch under my boots.
Fucking breathe, Bonnie.
You can kick his ass.
I plant my feet on the floor and manage to get a hand around his wrist and thumb. I pull back and step forward. My booted foot connects with his crotch, and it’s his turn to scream. The grip on my hair loosens, but he’s grappling so frantically that his thick hands find my flimsy shirt. The fabric rips. He falls to his knees, and I trip on my own feet.
Glass finds my hands when I land on my ass.
God-fucking-dammit.
I don’t have time for the pain to get to my head. He’s already pulling me toward him. A shard of mirror cuts a line up the back of my leg, and I can’t hold in my tears or my scream from the pain. I can’t move my left leg. I can’t think straight enough to remember how to defend myself. I’m kicking with everything I have, shoving him with all of my strength—
Blindingly bright lights overhead keep me from seeing his face. The glare is too intense, my tears too thick.
Laughter seeps into my ears as the rest of the world goes silent.
“Stop—No!”
And suddenly my muscles feel like lead. I can’t move, can’t push him away—pushthemaway.
“Get her arms—What do you think of me now, little drummer girl?”
