Mad | ✔ | GB+SB

Chapter Two

The picture is Sang's necklace!

I wake up with blood on my hands.

Literally.

"What happened here?" I moan and roll over to look at the trembling maid who is whiter than white and standing in the doorway.

"Y-Y-Your-r—"

"Spit it out or die!" I sing out, pulling out the nine millimeter pistol I always sleep with under my pillow.

The maid faints and collapsed like a deadweight.

Looks like she'll have to die. Not by me, though. By the head maid who is standing behind her and is both furious and mortified.

"I'm so, so sorry. She is a new maid, I'll have her dealt with immediately," Sylvia assures me hurriedly.

"No," I order sharply. "First, you will explain to me why I woke up with blood on my knuckles."

Sylvia's eyes widen and she looks around nervously. Her silvery hair is pulled into a tight him like always and her navy and white maid's uniform is perfectly clean.

"Y-Your sisters came in t-to do something in here while you were sleeping, but you punched them both a few times in your sleep," Sylvia stutters out, her bright blue eyes bulging with fear.

Do something?

I scoff at the thought.

Clearly they meant to beat me in my sleep.

They've done it to others, but they haven't ever tried to hurt me in my sleep because they can hurt me while I am awake. I guess it wasn't enough.

My lips curl upward in vicious pleasure as I think of what I did in my sleep to Jade and Marie. Whatever I did, I punched them enough to make my scarred knuckles bleed.

Hey, now I can say that I have literally beat someone in my sleep, it is so easy.

I groan and climb out of bed, already missing the warmth of my blankets and where I had warned the mattress with my body heat. Stumbling from exhaustion, I make my way to the bathroom.

I guess I am just tired from being up so late last night. But everybody knows you have to kidnap people at night while they are sleeping. It is like an unwritten rule of dramatic kidnappings.

Once I am finished in the bathroom, I begin to get dressed quickly, knowing that Mother is in her way already. I fling open my closet and pull on a white lace dress that stops just above my knee, white flats, and white lace gloves to cover my knuckles. In short, I looking like a damn bride minus the veil. But Mother insists on me wearing this, saying that dolls don't talk back and dolls don't get to pick their own clothes out. I'll have to change out of it later, though.

Right on cue, Mother comes in, way too cheerful. Why is she do cheerful? She is never this cheerful, especially not in the morning and especially not around me. I sit ramrod straight at the dark wood vanity and keep my green eyes vacant and my body perfectly still. I definitely don't want to anger her.