Author Games: Vengeance (The Punished, #2)

= Sneak Peak =

How do you fix things that are already perfect?

There's no reason or need to worry because they are unbreakable, they're indestructible, and most of all, the things in this world that mange to fit into society's role of perfect are impossible. For someone to be that, it means there is someone who is less than the given choices above and we just can't have that now can we?

In a world were beauty is what feeds and pesters our ignorance and no one will understand why people choose to be different do we really need to ignore the given fact that they don't care? Or that this cold possibly be the beginning to a very brutal battle that we are all secretly fighting within ourselves?

No.

Because we're all monsters who think of the world as cruel and unforgiving, something that doesn't give shit for people who are less than us.

It's the way of human life. That's what has been branded into our minds from day one of being alive. To show and express our opinions as people who or humble little twits that serve tomato soup with crackers to homeless shelters.

I was none of the above.

"If I was looking for someone to give me a false look of appreciating and bow at my feet while kissing the air around me, I wouldn't be here." I scoff, hoping she gets the sarcasm lacing my voice. "So cut the shit when I ask you a question lady, did you or did you not just look at me with a prude and judging face?" Growling, there's no seconds thoughts when I grab the collar of her little polyester dress.

It looks like a black potato sack. Not even the ordinary bland and wool, but one of the fancy ones you'd wear to a funeral with all the other neanderthals. They'd probably eat raw carrots and dirt instead of cocktail wedges with sheets of buttermilk cake.

She pinches her lips into a thin line and stares at me in both shock and disbelief. So what if she's a nun and older than the Statue of Liberty, she has no right to run me like a little bitch. The thinning white hair that sits delicately in a pin tight bun feathers and becomes a mess as she shakes her head wildly, cheeks flushing.

With a curl of my lip, I jump off her and make a show of dusting my Prada jacket down. Let her think she's an annoyance who's more filthy than a fucking cockroach. A whore is what she is, and it was her decisions to sell her body. For that reason alone I'd brought her to district 12 where she could live among the other scums such as herself. 

"I-I'm so sorry," she stutters like a child. "please forgive me!"

I roll my eyes and crane my neck to the side. I'm so sick of these disgusting creatures. Thinking they'll ever be worthy enough to look me in the eyes? Who do they think they are?

"Fine Mother," With almost enough venom as a snake, I hiss while spinning away on my heels. "but don't be surprised if someone comes to give you twenty lashes. I will not tolerate disobedience."

How dare she...