Deadly Beautiful, Vivian Vargas [good books to read for 12 year olds TXT] 📗

mom had this thing about her that made you think she was always in her own world and never gave a fuck about anyone else. But now her attention was directed to me.
“I hate you.” She whispered. Her voice was dripping with vicious malice, so much that it came out sounding like a snake hiss. “You were never anything. Slut.”
Her words felt like a slap to the face.
“You were incredibly easy. Popping your cherry was like taking candy from a baby.” Said George, who suddenly appeared by my mothers side, with his emaciated face and broken glasses and needle in his mouth, mocking, his eyes traveling up and down my body. He licked his lips. His tongue was very long and thin and forked, like a lizard.
“You hurt me, Whitney. All you do is hurt everyone around you.”
I was staring at Sasha, her terrifying face so close to me I could smell the burning, melting silver oozing out of her eye sockets.
There was a thread at the corner of her lips, a thread attached to a needle. I watched in horror as the needle lifted up, as though some invisible force were handling it, and pierced through the delicate skin of her lips. First the bottom, then the top, threading them together in a ghastly grotesque manner. Blood, thick and red, ran down her lips in streams as the needle continue to pierce and poke. It was sowing her lips together, sealing them shut, her words dying with the needle.

*****
I woke up screaming like a bloody banshee. Writhing in my bed, sweating a cold sweat. I was in pain, so much pain. It clenched at my muscles and made it hard to breathe. I shrieked again, falling from my bed to the floor. I simply could not stop. The pain was unbearable. My head felt like it was on fire. My insides felt like jelly, like they were immersed in acid and were slowly bubbling. I bellowed for help. I clawed at the bed sheets that fell with me, wrapping them around myself. I was so cold, so, so cold. Then I got too hot and threw them off, whimpering like a lost puppy, scratching at my own arms where the little scars were.
I wanted heroin so bad now. My veins begged to have the chemical rushed through them. My skin died to be popped, pop, pop, pop until the heroin got under there, giving me the rush. I wanted to get high so badly I screamed again, cursing everything.
“FUCK!” I roared, flipping over the tiny cot I was sleeping in, thrashing and flaying and bashing myself into the walls, the dresser, slamming my fist through the net iron that covered the windows, breaking my knuckles. I didn’t even feel the pain. I was already in agony.
Security then came into my room, holding bayonets. One man, with a huge walrus mustache that fluttered with agitation, whacked me in the shins and I went down with a moan. He hit me hard. Then medical personnel then came in, flaunting needles that were probably filled with some kind of sedative.
“NO!” I shrieked, trying to get away from them. But the security guard with the walrus mustache held my arms behind me, agitating my broken hand. I kicked and wailed, and he lifted my kicking feet of the floor so that another security guard could grab them. I fought. I fought as hard as I could. Adrenaline was shooting through me. I tried to boot my body out of their grip. My flannel hospital gown ripped by my knees as the security guard desperately tried to hold me.
“We need to restrain her. I can’t inject like this now, I could harm her. Put her in the castigation room.” Said the medical personnel. The castigation room was a small, square room with a high ceiling that gave you that claustrophobic feeling that you were trapped inside a well. The only thing in it was a cot with metal braces and tons of straps, to control any crazy patients. Any fucking crazy patient like me. They would leave you in there for a full twenty four hours without food or water as punishment, no human interaction, no moving around, no reprieve even if you have to take a shit, no nothing. So you can belt out and scream all you want. Eventually you’ll get tired, that is unless they stick a sedative in you first.
“No, no, please…” I begged. Did they not understand? Did they not understand what I was going through? They cannot feel the hellish inferno raging through my body, non-stop, like I jumped into a furnace, or boiling water, charring every single one of my fucking molecules until I felt like toast. How dare they assume, with all this therapy that they shove me into, making me talk to people who are paid to hear me ramble on and on about my life? They know nothing about me! They cannot even try to know anything about me. They’ve seen it all but I can guarantee that none of them has actually experienced it. Why try to emphasize when they don’t know what they are talking about? Be strong Whitney, you don’t need the drugs. You are independent.
“FUCK INDEPENDENT!” I ended up shrieking out loud, “I WANT THE FUCKING DRUG NOW!”
I started kicking harder. The man with the walrus mustache lost his balanced and ended up falling back. I took that to my advantage and kicked the other man in the face. He yelped in agony and held his nose. I made him bleed, and the blood seeped from between his fingers.
“Oh no you don’t.” the man with the walrus mustache growled as I got up to my feet and tried to run for the door. He ran after me and tackled me to the ground. He was very big and fucking heavy, so we both went colliding into the door jamb and I ended up getting hurt. I groaned; my shoulder and hand were throbbing. He scrambled up and grabbed me by my shoulders, dragging me back. My feet dragged limply from between his feet. The fight was lost. I lost. There was nothing I can do. They were going to put me in there until I had officially gone nuts. As punishment. I hated them. I hated them all. The dude that I kicked in the face. The medical man. The guy with the walrus mustache, him especially. I sobbed openly, but I barely fought as they laid me down on the cot and started strapping me down. First they clenched my wrists and my ankles in the iron cuffs. My wrist pulsated with agony and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. Then they took the leather straps and wrapped them around my breasts, my stomach, my hips and legs. I was snug in tight and very uncomfortable.
“I never did anything to anybody.” I mumbled to the medical man, who was tapping the syringe needle full of clear liquid. He did not say anything to me. But he looked at me with an odd mixture of pity and disgust.
“You are doing this to yourself, Whitney.” He finally replied. He lifted up my skirt and exposed my legs. I was instantly reminded of my tricking days, when I was exposed to everyone that paid for me. I imagined the doctor spreading my legs open and having sex with me. He would do it however he wanted to, and I would simply lie on my back and take it, thinking of the birds and the bees buzzing and flapping wings around me, or of heroin. I always thought as soon as he was done I would get out and find a dealer, buy me some heroin. All the fucked up things I did before would be forgotten as soon as I had it . He would have been just another guy. Another one of my faceless men. I lost count on how many guys I had sex with. Sex was just business. Business that got me money, money that I used to get heroin. The doctor was right; everything that ever happened to happened because I allowed them to.
I cried out as the doctor suddenly stabbed me with the needle to my upper thigh. But it was such a familiar feeling that the tears that fell from my eyes were tears of nostalgia. For a moment I made myself believe that that syringe was full of heroin.
It was not the rush I wanted. Instead, I felt sleepy almost immediately. My limbs were beginning to feel like soup. I couldn’t even move my fingers anymore.
Sasha’s face came to my mind. Her big eyes were silver, and her magic and power magnified around her, making her look electrified.
“Its all for you own good.” Her face in my mind said, and then she disappeared in a swish of smoke. I saw nothing more as my heavy eyelids could no longer stay open.


Morgan.

When my mind woke up, and my thoughts were recollected, I felt like I was floating into nothing. I felt as though the universe was carrying me off into a different dimension, and I was being pulled by a string. Someone was pulling me down. Not someone, per say, but something. I could not explain any farther than that. How can I? This is something that I beyond me. Beyond anything living thing or even partially living thing. But the feeling was so eerie that chills ran through my body. If I had a body right now. I remembered that I am now dead, waiting to become a vampire. So were was my soul? Was I trapped somewhere in limbo, floating, until Liam performs whatever he does and brings me back to earth?
I could not help from wondering: aside from drinking another vampires blood, what else must be done to complete the process? Is my body buried underground in a casket? Did my funeral already happen, and Sue and my parents both realized I was dead and gone and never to come back? Did they think that I finally succumbed to my diseases, or did they found out the truth? I wanted to know that happened, and the need to know made me feel desperate…
What was that smell?
The first physical aspect to my coming new life sent a strange rollicking thought of realization coursing through my system. It was a very similar scent to Liam’s blood but there was something about it that was simply so much better. It had my mouth watering, figuratively, right? I did not know, what this scent was, what kind of blood was it…
But it sent a horrible sensation of thirst to my throat that immediately made me want to choke and gasp. It was scalding hot, like I had swallowed slivers of glass. It was a desperate feeling that made me want to lunge for whatever the source of that smell was and drink it, consume it completely, anything I can do for this burning to end.
That’s when I was suddenly snapped back to reality, or earth, or even in my own body. I felt my soul coming into something solid, and with my newfound body I immediately, unconsciously, made a grab for the blood that smelled tantalizingly delicious. But someone dangled