Wattys Shortlist 2022 -
When she isn't looking, they call her the Princess of the Ghouls, but they haven't seen the assassination order on her secret identity: viper.
Stuck in Lake Darling, ruled by her father's gang, Vi has one objective... run awa...
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Pop! Scorpius's head implodes, blood shooting out onto the dining hall tiles. I jerk awake, my heart racing and nausea curling a fist in my gut, terror gripping me so hard that I move to sit up.
"Vi," Reid's voice is alarmed, "Vi." He lifts his arm from around me, unsure of whether I want space, but I swallow a gulp of air, placing my hand on his to prevent him from leaving.
Our room is cast in the dull glow of moonlight.
I exhale slightly, my heart rate reducing to a sickeningly heavy thump, thump... thump.
I can see it still. Mum, Tokyo, my uncle, Delilah, Scorpius, all lined up on the floor like Ezza. Pop!
The suite of victims is what disturbs me the most. What do they have in common? I can't understand why my mind would group them.
He nestles his head back into the pillows, closing his eyes like it'll ease his groggy mood.
"Sorry," I murmur, but he presses a kiss to my neck which effectively silences the onslaught of thoughts shooting around my head. I notice his breathing and the warmth that envelopes me.
But then Reid comes to reality, and he unlaces his arm, clearing his throat. He scratches his cheek awkwardly, "my bad," he grins like his apology is half-baked.
Guess it's better than Cola who used to kick in her sleep. It's the weird idiosyncrasies you learn about people that makes it harder to not know them anymore.
I sit up, preparing to toss the covers back, but he stills my hand. "Who's Delilah?" He murmurs.
I grimace, embarrassment swamping me. I was talking, too?
"You only said her name." He reassures.
I frown, unable to track the irregularity. Why would I say her name? Over Tokyo or Scorpius?
"I," I swallow, "Did I say anything about her?" I sink back into the mattress.
"No."
"Delilah died three months ago. Scorpius loved her." I finally murmur.
"I'm sorry," He whispers, and we fall back into another lapse of silence. "You dream like that much?" Why do I wan' his arm around me again?
"Sometimes. Usually, just a few over and over." I admit.
He hums his empathy, "Ditto."
Curiosity pinches me. "I guess, sometimes Scor..."
He doesn't say anything for a moment, "He means a lot to you," He remarks.
I hum, "He's perceptive. Just gets shit."
"Him the only one you dream about?" He tests, but I shake my head.
