Yeah. I talked to their chief and she told me something pretty scary.”
“What?” he asked. I took a deep breath, and tried not to stutter.
“She told me that a storm is coming-”
“It does look like it might rain.” Dean noted, cutting me off.
I rolled my eyes, “Not a literal storm, dumbass,

What I actually want to call you is a hell of a lot more unprintable than your name

He leaned in for a sniff. 'Smells like a horse's arse! I've got Ian!' -'No sniffing allowed! We never discussed sniffing! I cry foul!' Ian was outraged. 'I'm not giving you a shilling!' -'Give him a shilling! It's not his fault you smell like a horse's arse!

I looked up from the ground and glared at Scarlett, who helped Steven stand up. “You bitch.” I growled, sitting up.
She looked back at me and walked over to where I was. I kept my glare on her, and just as I was about to stand up, her foot came and hit me in the face. I flung back around and my vision started to blur as my head hit the ground. I heard the squishing noise of Scarlett’s heels against the wet ground and her say her last words to me: “See you in a while, Aiyanna. We’ll do lunch.” And then they were gone, just like that. That’s when I couldn’t hold on any longer and I let the blackness consume me.

So you've got no name?" I asked. "They couldn't think of one ugly enough?"
The creature snarled, stepping over the unconscious policeman.
"Set animal is too hard to say," I decided. "I'll call you Leroy."
Apparently, Leroy didn't like his name. He lunged.

What was this power, this insidious threat, this invisible gun to her head that controlled her life . . . this terror of being called names?
She had stayed a virgin so she wouldn't be called a tramp or a slut; had married so she wouldn't be called an old maid; faked orgasms so she wouldn't be called frigid; had children so she wouldn't be called barren; had not been a feminist because she didn't want to be called queer and a man hater; never nagged or raised her voice so she wouldn't be called a bitch . . .
She had done all that and yet, still, this stranger had dragged her into the gutter with the names that men call women when they are angry.