Den of Vipers

windows which, when I slide from the bed and stumble over to them, show
me the city.
It’s spread out beneath me like a goddamn poster. We’re so high up and
right smack bam in the middle of it. Turning away, I spot two doors on either
side of the TV. I peek my head in one to see a built-in wardrobe. And by that,
I mean a room with shelves upon shelves, mirrors with lights between them,
and a sofa in the middle. Shutting the door with a disgusted sneer of my lips,
I try the other one.
It’s a bathroom. The left wall is taken up by an all glass shower cubicle
with four shower heads aimed down, and a grey tiled seat in the back corner.
To the back is a huge tub, big enough to hold at least six people. To the right
are two sinks with a framed mirror above it. The toilet is tucked away next to
me. It looks like someone spared no expense, the fucking rich bastards.
Heading back into the room, I scan the space looking for anything I can
use as a weapon. Next to the bed are two antique, grey bedside tables. With
lamps on both. Perfect. I race across the room on bare feet, since some
bastard took my boots. Ripping the lamp from the wall, I hold it like a bat as I
head to the white door to the left which clearly leads out of the room.
Trying the handle, I find it locked, of fucking course. I drop the lamp to
my side and glare around at the room. These fuckers, they think they can own
me? That I’m someone they can buy?
They’re going to learn that money can’t buy obedience. I’m no man’s
object. They are going to regret the day they took me.
Vipers? Bitch, please, I bite too.
I wait for over half an hour to see if they will come and unlock the door,
but they don’t and I get bored. Pissed and bored isn’t a good combination for
me. I have the insane urge to mess the place up, it’s too perfect, too clean. So
I do. Grinning, I head to the bathroom and decide to take my anger out on
their precious bedroom.
Smashing the lamp into the mirror, I watch it shatter into pieces. I grin,
picking up a piece, accidentally cutting myself. Hissing, I stare at the blood
coating the glass and dripping to the pristine floor. Eh, fuck it.
Sauntering back into the bedroom, I let my blood drip behind me as I
walk to the bed and start slashing. I get it all out. My fury at them, my rage at
my father.
I should have known better by now, but every goddamn time I think I’m
free of him, he does something. But this? Selling me? Even I didn’t think he