VICIOUS

35.

It's a day later when I'm walking past Brandon's office. I haven't spoken to him since he handcuffed and blindfolded me. I would also rather throw up all of the tequila I drank last night than talk to that nasty, little rat. It all began like something good and maybe even fun, but fifteen minutes later it turned into an actual hell. 

I'm about to walk outside when someone calls my name. I turn around and see Brandon strutting over to me. The black suit he's wearing makes him look expensive, as if he's some prize you can win at the fair. Our interaction from two days ago doesn't seem to bother him and he acts like nothing has happened. 

''What do you want?'' I ask and I cross my arms. 

''Don't get all angry, Buttercup,'' he says and he throws one of his arms around my shoulder. He smells like alcohol, so he's probably drunk right now.

''What did you call me?'' I ask him and with one movement, I remove his arm from my shoulder. My right hand holds his wrist firmly, not planning to let it go. 

''Buttercup,'' he repeats with a smirk. He glances over my hand around his wrist and scoffs. ''You really think you're intimidating? Pathetic..'' 

Those are the words I don't like to hear. The hate I have for him only grows bigger and stronger. This was my last straw. I'm done with this asshole and how he ruined my whole fucking life. 

I quickly turn his arm around so the inside of his elbow is facing me. I bring up my left arm and with my elbow I hit his arm. Brandon let's out a painful scream and he touches his injured arm. It must hurt, since he immediately lets it go. All I can do is watch him suffer, something that I actually quite enjoy. 

''Fucking bitch!'' He shouts at me. He falls to the ground and with his other arm, he removes the jacket of the suit. The shirt underneath is slowly turning red and he rips the white cotton open. A bloody wound stares back at us and I can't resist to smile. I don't know how I managed to create an open wound, but I couldn't care less. He's hurt, that's what's important. 

I crouch down next to him. ''Don't ever call me Buttercup or pathetic again, you hear me?'' I give his wound one last glance before standing straight again. I walk through the exit, past an angry Brandon. 

..................................................................................................................................................

''I heard you broke Brandon's arm,'' A voice behind me says. 

I stand outside, smoking a cigarette. I don't bother to look around. I'll always recognize this voice. 

''I have no idea what you're talking about,'' I jokingly say. I stare at the empty and old buildings in front of me. I lean against one of the cars, rethinking the last few days. Weird things have happened and I don't want to actually think about some of them. 

Thomas walks over to me, standing next to me. I take a quick glance at him, but focus on the buildings again. He has dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. 

''Where were you yesterday?'' I ask him, continuing to smoke the cigarette. 

''Meetings,'' he answers and he sighs. ''Today too. I'm sick of it. The only thing they do is drink and talk about business. Future of Oblivion, killing Vicious, members of Oblivion, blablabla.'' 

I chuckle at his exasperation. ''I texted you yesterday, asking if you wanted to join me to meet up with Neo. You haven't responded yet, so I'm assuming a no.'' 

''Haha, very funny,'' he says, but he smiles as those words roll out of his mouth. 

''You missed a lot,'' I say. ''Apparently I have an aunt and uncle.'' 

Thomas' eyes widen. 

''Neo and I decided to meet up in the cafe where you and I met up with Drew,'' I begin. ''They were sitting inside, heard us talking about Vicious and Oblivion and saw us as a threat.'' 

Thomas nods. ''Go on.'' 

''They asked us where we came from,'' I continue. ''If we gave them the 'wrong' answer, they would kill us. We said Vicious, but I knew I was going to kill them if they didn't like that answer. Then they were relieved and took off their hoods and masks. The woman looked very similar to my mom, so obviously I was shocked. They told us that they were siblings and used to have a sister, aka my mom. She got killed and all they knew was that it was done by someone they knew very well. They also knew that they had a daughter and that her name was Taylor.''  

I rapidly tell him about the events of last night, not pausing to answer his questions. It stays silent for a few seconds, but then Thomas starts talking. 

''Do you know who killed your parents?'' He asks me. ''Do those two people know that you're their niece?'' 

''No and no,'' I answer both questions. The first no is a lie, though. ''But my parents deserved their deaths. In the end, they were horrible people.'' Thomas nods at that statement, but he still seems surprised. 

He takes a look at the watch he's wearing, an expensive Rolex he got from Brandon as a present. ''Fuck, I have to go.'' He hurries back inside, waving goodbye on his way. 

It's getting cold and I want to go inside. But I know what's going to happen if I do that. Questions will be asked about Brandon's injury. 

Hesitating for a couple more minutes, but eventually I begin to walk towards the entrance. Head down, stay quiet, try to be invisible and immediately go to your room. I'm regretting the scene I made, although I have to say that Brandon definitely deserved it. I still don't know what he wanted from me. 

Easy. 

Right? 

But of course my brilliant plan fails as soon as I step inside. 

''We need her!'' A man points at me. His colleague looks up from his phone, alarmed. 

I frown, acting confused and innocent. 

No sir, I haven't done anything. I'm just one of those whores that work in the restaurant. 

''Don't even try, Humentro,'' the man says. ''We saw what you've done to Mr. Phiago. He wants to ask you a few questions.'' 

His hand holds my arm, his colleague holding the other. Can I fight my way out of this? Probably. Will only more people come after me? Definitely. I already made a scene in here. Making another one will only draw unnecessary attention, that we don't need. 

So fighting isn't an option this time. 

Well, in that case.. 

Fuck me.