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something like this? “This has to be a joke, I don't remember having anything
like this done last night.” Now panicking, she licked her fingers and desperately
tried to wipe the tattoo off, hoping it was temporary, maybe a practical joke. It
did not budge.
Kila sat at the foot of the bed, her head in her hands. Steam from the shower still
running in the bathroom floated into the hallway. Only one thought hammered in
her mind: “What happened to me last night?” She wracked her brains, trying to
remember the slightest clue to how her eyes could possibly change color, and
how she could have obtained the extraordinary tattoo. A tattoo of this size would
take weeks to heal, but this one looked months old—yet yesterday it hadn't exis-
ted. She would quiz her friends, the other dancers she worked with at the club.
Someone had to know.
Later that evening, hoping to find some answers, Kila headed to the club where
she worked. As she walked through quiet streets, she couldn't help but notice a
car following her at a distance. Nervous, she picked up her pace and ducked
down an alley that was guarded by two posts preventing vehicles from entering.
Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could feel panic rising. Chancing a
quick glance behind, she was reassured to see no one—she was no longer being
followed. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned and continued on her way.
“Hey, babe!” came a voice from the shadows. “What's a pretty thing like you do-
ing in a place like this?” Kila spun around, squinting to see where the voice was
coming from. Eventually she glimpsed six figures emerging from the shadows.
“Look, I don't want any trouble,” she pleaded, trembling, as the men surrounded
her.
“Well that's too bad, because we do,” one of them replied. As they moved in, she
could feel her heart racing, pumping adrenaline through her veins. She spun
around to get her bearings, and then she felt it. Her skin began to warm; the heat
grew uncomfortable, bordering on painful. She could feel something deep inside
her body growing, taking over. Suddenly, as if a switch had been flicked, she
stood perfectly still, no longer quivering, steady as a rock. Slowly she raised her
head and stared directly at the one who had threatened her. Her green eyes were
glowing wildly, her breathing heavier and deeper now. The thug hesitated but
was only briefly impressed. “Nice trick, babe, but it doesn't scare me.” He
reached around to the back of his jeans and produced a long knife. “You see, I
can be scary, too,” he threatened, pointing the weapon at her. “Now hand over
your cash like a good little girl. Then I think we'll have a bit of fun. What do you
say, guys?” A murmur of excitement spread around the circle.
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