Sins Of Her Venom

- Kathrine Andrews: (Song of the chapter: House Of Balloons by The Weeknd)

I stood in front of the group, my eyes locked on Glyndon. She was holding my earphones, and I could feel the rage building inside me.

I had to stay calm—just get my earphones back, and I could leave.

I didn't belong here, not in this cruel circus of people who lived for nothing more than mocking others.

"Glyndon," I said, my voice steady but barely containing the hurt, "can I have my earphones back? I came to the party just like you asked."

Glyndon just grinned, looking up at me with that smug, superior expression she always wore. "What's the rush, Kathrine? Aren't you having fun? Or are you finally realizing this party isn't for people like you? People like you belong in hell like all Fags."

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sting of her words. "Yes, you are right, just give them back."

Alex, leaning against the wall beside her, chuckled darkly. "Why are you even bothering with these, Kathrine? Honestly, who the hell would want something that smells like desperation? You look pathetic, you know that? Like a stray dog begging for scraps. No wonder you hang out with women, no man could stand to look at you."

My heart clenched at his words. It was like a slap to the face, but I forced myself to remain calm.

Glyndon chimed in, her voice dripping with venom. "You're right, Alex. I mean, she's probably just desperate for attention. She probably thinks being a lesbian makes her special or something, but really, she's just some sad girl from the gutter in a big world of men who can't even look at her without feeling sorry for her."

The comments stung, but I refused to let them see me break.

I couldn't let them win.

I took a step forward, my fingers itching to grab my earphones back. "Give them back, Glyndon," I said through gritted teeth. "Right now." Then grabbed the wire of my earbuds.

She met my eyes with a smirk, and without warning, yanked the earphones out of my grasp.

I reached for them again, but before I could react, she ripped the cord with a swift, deliberate motion.

Snap.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I stared down at the broken earphones in my hands.

They were no longer whole—just two pieces of tangled wire and plastic.

"Whoops," Glyndon said with feigned innocence, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Guess they weren't as expensive as I thought."

My chest tightened. Those earphones weren't just some cheap accessory to me.

They had been a gift from my brother—the first thing he'd ever been able to buy for me with his paycheck.

I cherished them, and carried them with me everywhere.

They were a reminder of how far he'd come, of the love and support he and my family had for me. And now they were broken, destroyed right in front of me.

I felt my heart shatter, the weight of it pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

My hands trembled as I held the broken pieces.

The pain of losing them was so much more than just physical. It felt like losing a part of myself—my brother's kindness, his love, his support gone in an instant.

I stood there, unable to speak, feeling tears well in my eyes. But I wouldn't cry, not here, not in front of them. I couldn't give them the satisfaction.

But before I could turn and leave, before I could escape the suffocating weight of their mockery, I felt the cold splash of beer hit my skin.

It was as though time slowed. The liquid soaked through my clothes, running down my neck, over my shoulders, and soaking into my hair. My body went numb.

The sting of humiliation cut deeper than the beer ever could.

I stood there, motionless, staring at the shattered remnants of my earphones in my hands.

The entire room erupted in laughter.

Alex and Glyndon, joined by the rest of their group, were grinning, their faces twisted with amusement.

The sound of their laughter was almost deafening, as though their cruelty was something to be celebrated.

And in the background, I could hear the unmistakable sound of cameras clicking, people filming my every moment of torment.

My hands shook, my heart was in pieces, but I couldn't move.

I couldn't escape.

I was trapped in their cruel little game, the whole room watching me, laughing at me, as the beer soaked into my skin, my soul, everything that had once been mine.

It wasn't just the beer that was wetting my face now—it was the sting of being broken.