One Word | H.S.

Chapter Forty-Two

A new color, interesting.

You wanted Cade, but which side of him?

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Pretty Boy's POV

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Yellow.

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I'm in jail, again.

We're in the holding cell, awaiting the needed phone call that should've been given to us hours ago.

After Red attempted to reason with the sheriff, weakly express that we were merely 'tripping on LSD', our arms were restricted by the glistening wrist-candy that should only be used sexually.

'You should steal a few. For educational reasons, of course.'

Freak.

My withering body stays pressed against the frigid walls, eyes clamped shut as I refrain from strangling Cade, the fuck attempting to make conversation with the other two.

Sharp inhales through my scrunched nose, the pounding headache already resides in my worn temples from both this moment, and from the uncomfortably, giddy Blonde Fuck.

He's too smiley.

If we were alone, Red and the Queen of Destruction absent, he'd already be knocked out. Drawn cold on the ground as I apply ice to my knuckles, ease the burn from the courageous act.

Or, I'd shoot him in the thigh for fun. Both would be more than plausible, but I don't have my gun on hand.

'First, it's my fucking gun. And second, you can't just shoot Caden in the thigh because I did.'

Mia looks as though she's completely engaged in the conversation, but I think she's been pushed to the brink of insanity.

You can see it in her eyes, the madness.

All of these people are fucking insane, lost their minds completely.

The Cheshire Cat removes himself from the bustling group, the innocent girl dancing within a snowy field of never-ending flowers, the beauty extending over miles.

For Wonderland has been the Purple Cat's safe haven for the past three years, making do of the dreamland as he's never been presented other options. Succumbing to the angelic deity of purple reign, he's accepting.

Taken away from his previous occupation, thrown down a rabbit-hole of inevitable fate.

Or, so Alice believes.

Meandering over the crunched ground, his roughened paws hardly affected by the seething temperature, his smile fades into the crystalized world.

Everything heavenly, brighter, even if it's dreadfully cold.

Seemingly alive, though the veined rivers of Wonderland have appeared to freeze over, a scratchy substance placing itself onto the surface of the fluttering brooks.