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Story Notes:

So this little beauty began under my old screen name with the intention of being a  quick, clean, kill-the-main-character-and-move-on-to-a-new-story type of venture. Low and behold, it has developed into a literal fucking novel.  So strap in, all ye who enter here, for long chapters rich with plot and backstory and character growth beyond just giant content (although there is an abundance of that good stuff, too). I, for one, have found it quite delightful to explore the twisted relationship between these characters and getting a bit of depth to their not-so-pleasant treatment of each other. Let me know if you agree!

This is primarily a M/f story, so if that's not your jam perhaps move along. But there are a couple of fairly, how you say, juicy FM/f and F/f chapters to look out for, too. I'll mark them as such in the chapter notes for your convenience. 


Author's Chapter Notes:

A bunch of normal-sized humans and their dramatic human lives

Shrinking

Natalie Jordan was shrinking. 

Her stomach had caved in, her skin stretched tightly across her narrow rib cage. She stood in her underwear before the mirror in her small, colorful bedroom, scowling at her own reflection. She was somehow skinnier at sixteen than she’d been at twelve. As if she wasn’t scrawny enough already. Her face might still have been pretty, with her slim cheekbones and big brown eyes, if not for the unsightly bruise around her left eye that had turned a vibrant greenish purple. 

She huffed and pulled on a blue graphic tee-shirt depicting a wolf howling at the moon—an old family heirloom from the nineties, its design faded and cracked—and tucked the front into a pair of high-waisted, loose fitting skinny jeans, rolling up the hems a couple of times above her ankles. She stalked into the hallway and banged into her younger brothers’ room.

“Get out,” Nick groaned from one bed, while Tommy went right on snoring from the other. The three of them looked so similar that they could have been triplets, if not for the size and age differences; Tommy ten and Nick fourteen. Natalie ignored him, stepping over piles of dirty clothes and toys and shit to yank open their closet door. She sifted through their shirts, pulling out her favorite—a blue flannel with a Social Distortion dancing skeleton patch roughly sewn over a big hole on the back, that also happened to be Nick’s favorite.

“Get your own clothes, asshole.”

“This is mine, fuckface, I paid for it.” She jammed her skinny arms through the long sleeves and checked her reflection in the mirror over the dresser, tousling her chestnut brown hair into messy waves at her shoulders.

Nick grumbled, “It doesn’t even fit you. Why don’t you steal Tommy’s clothes, you two are about the same size, now.”

She chuckled dryly. “Get up, dumb shit, it’s time for school.” She stomped back out, slamming the door behind her and both Nick and Tommy bellowed a string of curses after her.

The kitchen was barren. She rummaged through the empty cupboards, tight jawed. There was a solitary box of cheerios, with barely enough left for a single serving. She huffed and split it into two bowls on the counter for her brothers, then brewed a pot of coffee. Hunger didn’t bother her much, anymore. The pain had dwindled with her shrinking stomach to a dull, constant ache that could be appeased with copious amounts of caffeinated beverages. Still, she needed to make sure to eat a proper lunch today. She didn’t want to pass out at school again.

While the coffee brewed she pulled out her phone and scoffed. Ten missed calls, three voicemails, and a chain of text messages from PSYCHO FUCKER. She pounded the delete button without checking any of them.

There was also a new text from Mattie: Morning, sweet thang. 

She smiled and texted back: Waddup hot stuff?

A response came back at once: Thinkin bout u. Got plans this weekend?

She poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, texting back: Depends. Whatchu up to?

She sipped her coffee, texting back and forth with him as Tommy came slumping into the hallway, followed by Nick, who shoved him into the wall as he passed by, yanking a red flannel onto his lanky torso over his Nirvana smiley face tee-shirt—another relic of the nineties. He scrutinized his tiny bowl of cereal as he went to open the fridge. He glared in, empty but for expired condiments and Natty Lights. “No milk?” 

“Why don’t you go wake the Tank and ask him for milk money?” Natalie grumbled without looking up from her phone. 

Nick scoffed, closing the fridge, and shoved her out of the way of the coffee pot.

“Don’t shove me, ass hat!” 

“Do something, short shit.”

Tommy frowned at his sad little bowl of cereal. “This it?”

Nick sneered, leaning on the counter next to Natalie with his own cup of coffee, taller than her by a good eight inches now. “Yeah, dipwad, cause it’s your turn to ask for grocery money. You were supposed to do it yesterday.”

“Fuck no, I told you, I ain’t doin’ it. Natty’s the favorite.”

Natalie laughed. “Fuck you, I always gotta ask him. Why don’t you do us all a favor and go eat for free at fucking school.

“It’s ratchet to eat breakfast at school.”

Both Natalie and Nick broke out into a procession of mockery for the little prince of the projects and Tommy turned red. “Shut up, assholes!”

Nick rolled his eyes and dumped his cheerios into Tommy’s bowl. “Here, my prince. Wouldn’t want those peasant folk to think you ratchet.” 

Tommy snatched the bowl and slumped down into one of the barstools across the kitchen island, grumbling about the lack of milk. 

Nick stood glowering next to Natalie, biting his nails. 

She whacked his hand from his mouth, grumbling, “Quit that. It’s fine, we’ll deal with it.” 

He grumbled back, “Feels like we’re always fucking dealing with it.” 

“Just suck it up for a couple more weeks. He’ll get more lawn service jobs when it warms up and it’ll get better, it always does.” She noticed a huge hole in Tommy’s tee-shirt and groaned. “Thomas. The fuck are you wearing?”

“What? I like this shirt.”

“It’s gotta massive fucking hole in it, Prince Rachet Ass! You can’t wear that to school. Go change.”

“I like this shirt. Can’t you just patch it?”

“Do I look dead to you?”

“What? No?”

“Right. I’m not your mom.”

Tommy sneered. “You patch Nick’s clothes!”

“Yeah so she can steal them,” Nick grumbled. 

“Oh my God, please keep whining about it, little brother, you sound really cool.”

“Cooler than you, trash whore.”

Natalie scowled. “Ew. Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? Everyone at school does.”

“Oh do they? I wasn’t aware. For real Nick, don’t ever call me that again, you don’t even know what it fucking means.”

“Yeah I do. Speaking of which, Trev has a message for you.”

“Agh! Why are you still hanging out with him? Have you no loyalty?”

“He requests you quit being a bitch and return his calls.”

“Charming. Tell him to get a life and mind his own fucking business.”

“Will you two go back to making out already? All this fiery tension’s gonna bring down the property value.”

“I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate me making out with the neighbors.”

“Right. Mattie.”

She frowned. “What’s your problem with Mattie? I thought you liked him.”

“Trev told me how you got the shiner.”

Her jaw dropped in indignation. “The fuck’d he tell you? It wasn’t Mattie, dipshit! Mattie is a gentleman, he didn’t do anything!”

“Right. Mattie didn’t do anything.”

Natalie scoffed. “Quit talking to Trevor, he’s fucking psychotic.”

“Not my fault we didn’t get a say in the custody battle.”

“Yeah,” Tommy grumbled. “I’d take Trev back over you in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah? Would ya? Too bad, we’re bound by genetics.”

Before either of them could respond, Frank came slumping and yawning down the hallway. He was a taller, broader, thirty-two year old version of his children, with many tattoos and streaks of gray in his chestnut hair. He eyed the two teenagers leaning against the counter with cups of coffee and no food and snorted. “Coffee for breakfast? At least I know you’re my kids.”

The two chuckled dryly and Natalie poured him his own cup.

“Bless you, sweet child,” he said, tousling her hair. He slumped down in the barstool next to Tommy, leaning his forehead against the counter with a groan.

“Rough night, old man?” Natalie asked. 

Frank grumbled against the countertop, “Who you callin' old, lady? This night job is brutal, I’d like to see you try it.”

“Sounds rough,” she said, with genuine sympathy. She knew he was struggling to make rent and she did honestly feel for him, but he stubbornly refused to let her get a job until summer break, and they needed groceries. Bad. She shot Tommy a piercing look, but he was picking irritably at his dry cheerios. Her lips tightened. She always had to do everything. “You’re off tonight, though, right?” she asked, going for a casual, plant-the-seed approach. “We haven’t had a Friday night movie marathon in a while.”

“Oh, okay, now you're talkin’ my language,” said Frank. “Gore fest?”

“If you think your elderly heart can take it.”

He laughed. “My child. I was raised on horror. I can not be frightened.”

“You’re on, old timer.”

“Why don’t you invite your shadow to join? Wouldn’t be the same without the obnoxious commentary from you two.”

Her grin faltered. “No. Dad. We broke up, like, a month ago.”

Frank smirked. “How could any of us forget the great tragedy of the twenty-first century? How long you plan on keeping him in exile? I mean, come on, he’s family. Kid was over here so much I thought he was another one of mine for years.”

“See?” said Nick, gesturing towards him. “We all agree, we should at least get visitation rights on weekends and holidays.”

Natalie shot him a look. “He’s not invited. Wamme to pick up some frozen pizzas?”

“Only if you get pepperoni this time,” said Frank. “None of your veggie nonsense.” 

“Yeah, fine, grease yourself into an early grave. You need anything else while I’m there?”

“If I give you my card, you mind grabbing some groceries?”

“Yeah, I can do that. Nick, think you could bike over with me after school to help carry?”

“That’s cool,” said Nick, mimicking her casual tone.

“Keep it under thirty, this time,” Frank grunted, pulling his wallet from his pocket while Natalie and Nick exchanged subtle looks of triumph for a successful, drama-free grocery money requisition. But he paused, looking at Tommy. “The hell is this?” he snapped, sticking his fingers through the big hole in his shirt. 

A tense silence fell over the kitchen.

Tommy scowled and Frank grabbed his arm, giving him a shake. “Answer me, Thomas, the fuck’d you do to your shirt?”

“It's an old shirt, Dad,” said Natalie quickly. “It was one of Nick’s, he just wears it to sleep in. Tommy, go change for school.”

Tommy went to get up, but Frank pushed him back down. “Uh no no, don’t lie to me, he’s all dressed for school. Why you dressing like a homeless person, Tom?” 

“Dad, chill out, it’s fine,” said Natalie. “Didn’t anybody tell you? Grunge is in.”

He rounded on her. “You always let them go running around like fucking hoodlums?”

She reeled back, scowling. “How’s this my fault?”

“Come on, Nat, I’m running on like three hours of sleep here, would it kill you to help me out in the mornings?”

“Are you kidding me? I ‘help you out’ constantly! It’s not my fault you think it’s normal to raise children at sixteen.”

Frank took a deep breath, pinching his forehead. “You kids are seriously driving me up the fucking wall. I’m working my ass off every fucking day and night tryna keep you dipshits alive, and everything you touch turns to shit.”

“Please,” Nick grumbled. “When was the last time you bought us shit?”

“Oh, okay, you, too, now?” Frank grunted, gesturing towards him. “That how you're talking to me, now, Nicky? You forget who pays for the fucking clothes on your back?”

Nick sneered. “Nat does.”

Nicholas!” Natalie squealed, rounding on him.

What? He asked. I’m not gonna lie.”

Frank’s glowering gaze shifted from Nick back to Natalie. “The fuck’s he talking about?” 

Nothing,” she snarled, glaring at Nick.

“Since when you buying them clothes? Something wrong with the clothes I buy them?”

“Oh my God,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands. “They’ve grown out of the clothes you bought them, Frank.”

“‘Frank’? Oh, you all grown up now, huh!”

Nick yelled, “It’s amazing any of us have grown when you never buy us food, Frank!” 

Natalie yelled, “We need clothes, Frank! I asked you for money and you said, ‘We don’t have money. Get used to it’!”

Frank yelled, “So where did you get the money, Natalie! You selling yourself?”

Natalie let out a loud, shrill laugh. “Yeah, Frank! I’m selling myself! I don’t even ask for cash anymore, I just have ‘em pay me in kid’s clothing! I fuck ‘em right there in the aisle of fucking GOODWILL!”

Frank jerked upright, storming around the kitchen island and Natalie stormed out around the other way, stalking off down the hallway and he yelled after her, “DON’T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME!” while Nick yelled, “GOD I HATE THIS FUCKING FAMILY!” and Tommy held his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Natalie stormed into her room and slammed the door shut, locking it a split second before the handle began to rattle violently. Frank pounded on the door. “Open the door, Natalie! You are gonna tell me right now where you’re getting money from!”

She ignored him, throwing on her backpack and snatching her hightop converse off the floor. She climbed over her bed to the window.

“You live in my house, you open the fucking door when I tell you to!”

Natalie laughed as she shimmied open the window and called over her shoulder, “This isn’t a house! It’s a shit ass apartment you can’t even afford!”

He hammered his fist against the door. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, NATALIE! IF YOU MAKE ME BUST IN THERE I’MA BUST THAT SMART ASS MOUTH OF YOUR’S INTO NEXT FUCKING WEEK!”

She tossed her sneakers out the window and they fell three stories to the grass below. She climbed out after them, shimmying herself down the storm pipe as her dad shouted and cursed from the hallway, threatening to break the door down. 

She passed Diego, blowing dank ass smoke out the open window of the apartment below hers. “Sup, Natty Light,” he said sleepily as she climbed past him. He glanced up to the ceiling. “The Tank sounds pissed, ay? Wanna hit?” He held his joint out to her.

“We got school, dumb shit,” she grumbled as she shimmied down. 

“Aye, tha’s why I’m smokin’,” he laughed. “I’m ‘bout to go fail a fuckin’ math test for fuckin’ sure. Ay, tell novio he owes me twenty bucks, would ya?”

“That prick’s not my boy-friend!” she called and jumped the last ten feet to the ground, landing heavily in her bare feet with an “Umph,” and toppling onto her palms. She jammed on her sneakers and stormed around the front of the apartment complex to the bike racks. She fumbled to unlock her slim, janky boy’s bike, every inch of its red frame covered in a wide variety of stickers; from Pokémon and Spider-Man, to Misfits and N.W.A., a tattered Natural Light label wrapped around the back of the seat pole like a license plate, stuck there by one of her dick ass friends.

Frank’s muffled shouts reached a crescendo when he finally burst into her room, only to find it vacant. Nick and Tommy—still in his holey tee-shirt—came skidding around from the courtyard stairs to grab their own bikes as she took off on hers, calling over her shoulder, “Thanks a lot, ya dipshits!” 

Frank cursed and shouted down at her from her bedroom window as she sped out onto the road, holding up a middle finger. More neighbors stuck their heads out their windows, some listening nosily, others hollering to shut the fuck up.

She sped along, huffing angrily, taking her aggression out on the bike pedals. She had a bit of extra time to get to school, so she took a detour through the North side of town, where the trees ran along the side of the road in perfect symmetry. It was a sunny, brisk morning, and the trees were vibrant with blooming flowers. She liked to ride her bike through these clean, quiet streets, especially after a big blow out with Frank the Tank. There was something calming about the massive houses, with their colorful gardens and perfect lawns, smooth and green as the felt grass of a miniature golf course. She took a deep, calming breath, inhaling the fresh Spring air after a long, particularly abysmal Winter. 

*                                                *                                                *

Alex was already waiting for her by the highschool bike racks, sitting in the grass, vaping. She was asian-american, with blunt bangs and a septum piercing; her clothes grunge for style, rather than social status.

“Hey girl,” she called as Natalie locked up her bike. 

“Whaddup.” She slumped down in the grass and Alex passed her the vape pen. She took a long, slow inhale and passed it back. “You got the shit?”

“I got you, babe.”

She grabbed some concealer from her backpack and dabbed it over the bruise around Natalie’s eye. She sat back, scrutinizing her work.

“What’s that face?” Natalie grumbled. “Can you still see it?”

“Naw, mang. You good.”

“Lemme see.”

Alex held up a compact mirror and Natalie groaned. The greenish purple was so vibrant it was still visible under the concealer.

“It’s cool,” said Alex. “It makes you look tough as fuck.”

“Mmm.” Natalie didn’t want to disagree, so quickly changed the subject to something she knew would get Alex talking for a while. “How’s your thang?”

Alex took a drag from her vape pen and grumbled, “Fucking terrible. I’m just not feeling inspired with my subject, you know?” She launched into the theatrics of her recent project for their art class, allowing Natalie to vape and sit quietly for a couple of minutes, half listening while she tried to devise a way of asking to spend the night at her place, without divulging the details of her atrocious morning. Normally she’d have just stowed away at Trev’s for a night or two until her dad cooled down, but that obviously wasn’t an option anymore.

Other kids started arriving for school. Some jock prick sneezed as he passed by, in a way that sounded uncannily like, “Trash whore.”

Excuse you,” Alex called after him. “Fuck these jabrones, dude.”

“That would certainly bode well with my reputation.”

Alex snorted. “Own it, bitch. At least you’re not a hamster fucker.”

Natalie laughed out loud. “Oh my God, I can't believe that goofy ass shit got out. Was that your doing?”

“What goes around comes around. She’s the one that started the trash whore thing.”

“She wasn’t even there.”

“Yet she was still kind enough to go shouting her own version of events from the rooftops. How fucking convenient for that mother fucker that his name seems to have been excluded from the narrative.”

“Please keep it that way.”

“Yeah, yeah, I said I would. You’re a better person than I.”

“I’m not, dude. I’ve been through all this shit before, it’s better to just let it blow over or it can get a lot worse.”

“Let it. Crucify the fucker.”

An arm suddenly wrapped around Natalie's shoulders as someone plopped down beside her and she stiffened, whipping around. It was only Mattie. 

“Morning, beautiful,” he said with a warm smile. He was lanky and doe-eyed, with wavy, copper hair, cut shorter on the sides and longer on the top. He was wearing tight jeans and a vibrantly flowered, short sleeve button-down. 

She smiled and said in the tones of a southern damsel, “Why I do declare! Good mornin’ to you, young man.”

“Gotchu a lil somethin’, milady.” He held up a Starbucks coffee.

Her smile faltered. “You didn’t have to do that…” 

“I know,” he said with a dopey smile, pressing it into her hand. “But I like ya!”

“You two are freakin’ adorable,” said Alex, in that dry way of hers where Natalie could never quite tell if she was being sarcastic or not. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that normal, stable people said and did nice things for each other for the sole purpose of being nice, without any malicious intent whatsoever. 

“Thank you, Mattie,” she said with a sheepish smile.

“Anything for my lovely lady.” He kissed her forehead.

More of their friend group met up to vape before heading in, and they chatted about some party going on at so and so’s house that night. Natalie listened quietly, sipping her coffee without offering much to the conversation, as everyone avoided mention of the catastrophic events of the last party they’d all been to together.

The other three girls of the group discussed getting ready at Alex’s house after school, and Natalie aimed herself casually towards them, hoping for an invite.

“You in?” asked Alex.

“Fo sho,” said Natalie. “Would you object to my staying the night?”

“Well that would be fabulous.”

“Well aren’t you a delight.”

“Damn Nat,” said Katie, looking her up and down. “You’re looking slim as fuck.”

“Um,” said Natalie, crossing her arms to conceal her bony rib cage. "Yeah, thanks."

“Ugh, I hate you,” said Ally from across the circle. “How do you stay so tiny? I keep trying all these fucking diets but nothing ever works.”

“I know, right?” said Katie. “You lucky bitch. Any updates from the stalker ex?”

Natalie’s lips tightened. “No.”

“Liar,” said Alex with a sly grin and Natalie bestowed upon her a disdainful look from the corner of her eye.

“Ooh, what’d he do this time?” asked Katie eagerly. The rest of the circle fell silent to listen in.

“Nothing.”

“What about the subject for his new art project?” said Alex.

“We don’t know each other's subjects.”

“But one can wonder. Teacher calls it brilliantly disturbing. A portrayal of betrayal. A sonnet of sorrow. A testimony of torment.”

Katie’s jaw dropped dramatically. “It’s about Nat?”

“No,” said Natalie while Alex said, “It’s certainly not about the hamster fucker.”

“Oh my god!” Katie squealed.

“What a psycho,” said Zack and the rest of the guys grunted their agreement.

“You oughta get a restraining order,” said Ally. 

“Definitely!” Katie agreed. “I can’t believe you didn’t get one after he freaking punched Mattie!”

The group went around agreeing with each other, all except Mattie, who had gone rather awkward, Alex, who was eyeing Natalie with that same sly grin, and Natalie, who was grinding her teeth to keep from telling them all to fuck off. They were her friends, they were only trying to look out for her. Even if they had absolutely no idea what the fuck they were talking about. 

“Well, anyway, I better run,” she snapped, stomping to her feet a tad more aggressively than she’d meant to. “See you guys later. My good sir,” she added to Mattie.

“My lady,” he said, kissing her hand.

Natalie stalked through the hallway, pretending not to notice the pricks staring after her with predatory smirks. She probably should have waited for Mattie or Alex or someone to walk with her, as she kept receiving vulgar propositions, ranging from creepy as shit to down-right fucking disturbing, but she’d rather not have her friends overhear all that bullshit anyway. Especially Mattie; he already thought of her as a drama-magnet, given that they hadn’t even been together a month and she’d somehow managed to get the both of them punched in the face on separate occasions.

As she was putting in the code to her locker, someone slapped her butt and she whipped around, snarling, ready to crack the culprit’s skull. But she couldn’t locate the perpetrator amongst the crowd of students swarming by. She ground her teeth and yanked her locker open, throwing her backpack savagely inside. 

She was kneeling down to collect the books she needed for her first class when her locker suddenly slammed shut, again. “Sup, trash whore.”

Natalie groaned and lifted her glaring gaze up the leg of the prick leaning casually against her locker. 

Trevor,” she said coldly, rising to her feet.

Natalie. You’ve been avoiding me.”

Trev Dalton was a whole foot taller than she was; lean and muscular. He was wearing a stylish, ironic tee shirt and slim fitting jeans—paid for by his girlfriend, no doubt. He had thick, untidy, dark brown hair, an irritatingly handsome face, and a crooked, perpetually cocky grin.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” She swatted him aside but he stood rooted to the spot.

“That’s funny. I’ve only left you about a thousand messages.”

“And yet, I didn’t respond to a single one of them? Some people might take that as indication your messages are unappreciated. Kindly fuck off.”

She tried to shove him and he grinned his cocky grin. “Nice paint job on that shiner, Natty. Classy. Can we chat?”

“I’m late for class.”

“I’d really like to talk to you.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“That’s a first.”

Natalie chuckled dryly and Trev mimicked her dry chuckle. 

“Begone, fucknuts.”

“You’re forcing me to do this.” He started banging his fist loudly on her locker behind his back, wailing, “Nataliiie!”

She smacked her forehead into her palms as the surrounding students stopped in their tracks to stare. “Shut up, Trevor.”

His grin widened. “Oh pleeease Natalie Lorraine Jordan, won’t you taalk to meeee!”

More turned to watch the scene—the hoodrats from the projects, causing a trashy scene in front of everyone. The prick always knew how to get to her.

Fine,” she snarled. “Somewhere private?”

“Great. Let’s go.” He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her off down the hall. The crowd of spectators parted like the red fucking sea, their voices crashing together like waves as they passed. 

He stood guard as she scaled over the window railing of the east stairway, slipping through the gap and climbing down into their secret spot beneath the stairs. He jumped down after her and she crossed her arms, leaning against the same wall he used to slam her up against when they ditched class to make out.

“Whaddo you want, Trevor?” 

“His name.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes. Just tell me the fucker’s name and I’ll leave you alone. I’ll disappear into the night. Never burden you with my presence again.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Someone ought to. Your ‘boyfriend’ sure doesn’t.” 

She sneered. “Your ‘girlfriend’, meanwhile, cared enough to inform the entire fucking state area. She know you’re having this conversation with me right now?” 

He sneered back, his green eyes glaring down into hers. “Don’t change the subject.”

“What would she have to say about your obsessively chivalrous concern for your ex, Trevor? Seems only fair to keep her in the loop.”

“Go for it. You think anyone gives a shit who talks to you, trash whore?”

“Oh, that’s nice. I thought you’d have learned some manners by now from the princess prancing you around like her own little bad-boy-toy. It’s sad Trevor.”

He reeled back, scowling. “Yeah, okay. I thought you’d have learned some docility by now from Mattie the fucking pacifist. But who was that ratchet ass with the shiner I saw climbing out a third story window at seven o’clock in the fucking morning? Someone really oughta file a noise complaint on the trashy ass neighbors.”

Natalie snarled up at him, loathing him with such ferocity that the hatred boiled in her empty stomach and rose up in her throat, burning like acid. She sucked in breath through clenched teeth, clutching her tight belly.

Trev scoffed. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

The acid shot through her veins, into her fingertips and back, spreading through her blood stream and her limbs shuddered and spasmed.

His brows drew together. “Nat, you okay?” He placed a hand on her shaking arm.

Pain shot from his touch like an electric shock, engulfing her entire body in one agonizing instant. Her organs twisted and writhed, her bones splintered inwards, her skin constricted and Trev expanded and lurched back, his eyes widening as they followed her down, down, down, and then her head smacked into something solid and everything went black.

Chapter End Notes:

Wooah! What happened! Tune in to find out

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