You’ve been in there for over an hour.” Micah beat his fist against the locked bathroom door. The wood was so cheap, I expected to see the plywood split at any moment. “I’ll come out when you give me back my jeans.” This time the thudding sounded like his forehead. “Come on, babe.” “Come on, nothing! You’re not the one who has to go out in public in your underwear!” I yelled back. I tugged at the hem of the black leather miniskirt that barely covered my ass and wished it were a few, say five, inches longer. What had Hannah been thinking? My gaze rose to the mirror and I cringed at the woman reflected back at me. This was the old me. The eighteen-year-old Ella before I’d been turned. The one who wore makeup and dressed up to complement the man I’d loved without reason. Now I was dressed up to complement me. The black corset-style top hugged my hips and showed off my navel. Throughout the lace, sapphire ribbons the exact same shade as my eyes were woven into the front and gave it a gothic appearance.
