Roaring

my repeatedly beating heart. I clench and unclench my hands as I stare Cheryl down.
Vin’s not with her. If he was with her, she would be rubbing that in my face. Don’t let her win, Violet. Don’t let the bitch fucking win.
I take a deep, calming breath just as Cheryl begins screaming louder, her voice overshadowing Fish Boy’s own inarticulate phrases.
This is so fucking weird.
“I’m just going to…um…leave.” Slowly, I back out of the room, just as Fish Boy grabs his gilled-dick, pulls it out of Cheryl’s cunt, and spins her around to spill his seed onto her breasts. It’s…blue. And sparkly. Using his dick, he begins to rub it into her nipples, which I swear are turning into seashells. No fucking joke. You can’t make this shit up.
The door closes silently behind me as I step back into the hall. Jennifer leans against the wall, arms crossed over her chest and one eyebrow raised.
“See what I mean?”
“Are all the rooms like that?” I gesticulate towards the room of horror. I’m pretty sure I need to bleach my eyes out after that scene.
“Some people are fucking. Some are just sitting and refusing to leave.” With an irritated huff, Jennifer turns on her heel and stalks away, no doubt to feed on the public donors stationed in the cafeteria.
I open doors at random, my agitation growing by the second. In one, there’s a full-blown orgy occurring. A male is fucking another male against a table as he sucks on a girl’s pussy. In front of them, two girls are rubbing their nipples together while two men fuck them from behind.
And…
Now I’m thinking of orgies.
With my guys.
Well, not my guys, but my guy friends who are guys.
The third room proves to be the same—a big, giant clusterfuck. Literally. It’s the fourth room that gives me a pause.
A single man is leaning against the table, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl firmly fixed on his face. He has hair so dark it’s almost the color of pitch, and he wears a form-fitting black t-shirt that clings to his pectorals. Tattoos run up his arms from the tips of his fingers, a myriad of colors and symbols. He looks extremely badass and extremely scary.
“Hey,” I begin awkwardly, lifting my hand and wiggling my fingers. “Um…I was wondering if I could use this room to drink.”
Kill ‘em with kindness is what my dad always tells me. Well, at least the first part. Kill ‘em.
He doesn’t answer, eyes narrowed intently on me.
“Is that a yes?” I tentatively ask, quirking a brow. I swear I see his scowl deepen, as if my voice alone irritates the shit out of him. “A maybe?”
“Vampire scum don’t deserve to eat,” he bites out at last. I’m shocked by the aversion in his tone. It goes beyond petty squabble. It’s absolute hatredand loathing.
My temper flares immediately as I stalk up to the cumquat.
“Because I’m a vampire? Because you’re afraid I’m stronger than you? Faster than you?” His eyes narrow dangerously the closer I get, but it only fuels my hate fire. “Who the fuck are you? Do you even go here?” I shake my head vigorously.
Focus, Violet.
“Zombies need human brains to eat. Ghouls need live body flesh. Witches require human body parts for their spells. What makes us so fucking different? Is it because we’re more durable? Because we’re more powerful?”
His nostrils flare as I take another step closer. Before I can continue my amazing rant—if I do say so myself—my back is pressed against the wall and his hand is around my throat.
“You’re all disgusting vermin,” he hisses, spittle flying in my face. “None of you deserve to live. Watch out, little vampire. You’re soon going to find out that you have more enemies than friends at this Academy.” Abruptly, he releases me, nodding towards a fridge in the far corner of the room. “You can have one bag. That’s all we’re going to allow.”
“We?” I want to fight back—push my luck—but there’s something dangerous lurking in his dark eyes. Something that makes me tremble with barely veiled fear.
“The Anti-Vampire Resistance.” His lips curl into an evil smirk. “You’re lucky Dimitri Gray is headmaster, or else I’d stick a stake into your heart.”
Yeah, let’s not and say we did.
“Nice talking to you,” I murmur, quickly grabbing the blood bag and using my vampiric speed to exit the room.
What the ever-loving fuck is happening?
I nearly trip over my own two feet when I enter the cafeteria and see the public donors. Or, lack thereof.
Every single human donor is dead, their lifeless, glazed eyes staring up at the ceiling. I can’t tell who—or what—killed them. I recognize a few of them—a man named Jerry, a woman named Sarah, a woman named Alixandra, and a man called Harry. A few vampires hover on the outskirts, faces etched in horror.
Anxious murmuring erupts across the cafeteria. I watch as Vin removes himself from the Van Helsing table and inches a step closer to me. He doesn’t speak to me or even acknowledge me, but I know he’s as aware of my presence as I am of his.
“Pinkie!” Mason hurries through the throng of whispering monsters until he’s able to pull me into his arms. His gaze narrows on the sea of dead donors. “What the fuck happened?”
Did that guy do this? The Anti-Vampire Resistance guy?
The doors to the cafeteria fly open as a group of professors hurry inside. At the front, leading the charge, is Dimitri himself. He looks like darkness personified, his all black clothes juxtaposed by his pure white hair. His eyes search the crowd before stopping on me. He surveys me from head to toe, inspecting for injuries, before he turns away to face the dead donors.
“Somebody better start talking.” He doesn’t yell—doesn’t even raise his voice—but the entire cafeteria stills, knowing danger when they sense it.
Hands shaking, I rip open my blood bag and suck it dry. I’ll ask one of the guys to come to my room