Severn
“They’re asking questions and wondering about the paintings. At least let me go talk to them.” Trying my best to walk by, Tirah stopped me.
Huffing, I crossed my arms and looked out onto the stage at the beings admiring my art.
One male I recognized from some of the in-person black market sales.
He was always dressed nicely in dark colors.
The tattoos on his fair skin were a stark contrast that made his appearance striking and difficult to turn away from.
He always studied my art closely, and he always left the sales with each piece that was for sale.
Ceril and I frequently stood in a back room or watched the sales over a live feed.
Glancing over at Tirah, she had pulled out her phone and was furiously typing out a message. With light steps, I began moving toward the main part of the stage. Giant white wings burst open in front of me before I got too far away from Tirah.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Ceril’s low, booming voice funneled toward me. Tirah scrambled to stand to my left, nearly falling over on her high heels.
“You’re never going to let me claim these as my own, are you?” Throwing my hands up in frustration, I tried to walk by, but Tirah grabbed my arm. Quickly, with as much force as possible, I ripped my arm from her grasp. The motion pulled on my scars, but I ignored it.
Ceril directed his attention to the blue-haired angel, his wings shifting slightly with his focus.
“Tirah, out. Now. Fucking worthless.” Ceril mumbled the last two words as he moved a wing out of the way and Tirah shuffled by, exiting onto the stage.
“Are you asking for death?” Ceril leaned down to me, his wings forming an umbrella-like cover over my head as his other four wings circled my body, guiding me closer to him.
Ceril tilted his head to the side and raised his manicured eyebrows. “Well?”
“Maybe I am.” My reply was honest, which Ceril didn’t like.
He pulled his wings back in tightly against his frame.
I shoved at him, but Ceril pushed me harder against a metal pole.
The scars on my back immediately started to throb, and I arched back in pain, trying to do anything to soothe it.
Ceril’s tight grip was around my neck in seconds, and he began dragging me down the stairs and toward the rooms behind the stage.
Ceril turned doorknobs until he found one that was unlocked. The room was completely dark; if there was anything inside, I had no idea.
Finally, Ceril released my neck and pushed me into the room. My back still aching.
“Make a fucking sound, and that’s it.” Ceril slammed the door to the small closet, and I fell to the ground.
My ears began to ring, and it took all of my willpower not to scream at the top of my lungs.