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The sight of my little bird’s pillow coated in my sticky cum makes me smile to myself as I zip my fly. “Sweet dreams, Wren,” I whisper.
Within minutes, I’m back behind the wheel, plugging the address into the map app on the phone and following the directions it provides. It’s not a long drive, barely five minutes, not far enough to take me into a better part of town. If anything, this is even worse, since the buildings on either side of the street look abandoned. It’s damn depressing, but I’m about to do something that will perk up my mood.
There’s a set of stairs that runs along the outside of the building, which is what I use to get up to the second floor where Brandon is supposedly crashing. I don’t know whether he’s there alone or not, not that it’s going to change anything. This is between the two of us, anyway. Anybody else feels like getting involved, playing the hero? They’ll regret it.
I pound on the door with the side of my fist, looking around at the cigarette butts and beer cans littering the landing. A few shuffling footsteps are followed by creaking hinges as the door slowly opens. This guy is in even worse shape than Wren’s roommate, blinking hard against a cloudy day. “Yeah?” he mumbles before burping softly. He’s a charmer.
Black hair, slightly curly.
Flat, mean eyes.
Snake tattoo on the right biceps. Shitty work, too, not that I’m surprised. “What, did you get that in prison? Or was the artist stoned?” I ask, nodding to the sloppy ink.
“What the fuck did you say?” he asks, standing up a little straighter. “Who are you?”
“The question here is, who are you?” I counter with a smile, my hands folded in front of me. “I’m looking for Brandon. Are you Brandon?”
He really is a stupid son of a bitch. “Yeah, I’m Brandon,” he drawls, almost like he’s proud. Like he has a reason to be.
“Good to know.” And then I cock my right fist back and piston it forward, throwing my weight behind the blow for extra impact.
It’s always easy to take down a coward like this, though I didn’t expect him to drop so easily. “Jesus, dude,” I mutter, stepping over his prone body and shoving his legs out of the way with one foot before closing the door behind me so we can be alone.
Straddling him, I roll him onto his back, then slap him hard enough that his eyes snap open. He’s dazed, blinking rapidly, muttering thickly.
Taking him by the neck of his torn T-shirt, I pull him partway up and give him a smile. “Don’t go to sleep yet,” I croon. “I’m not done with you by a long shot.”
13
WREN
Iwish there was a way to drown out the sound of Buck and his friends partying out in the living room. It’s a little early for them—usually, they like to hang out at the bar first before bringing the party back here. I try to get myself to bed before that happens, so there’s not much of a reason for me to go out and see them. I know Buck wouldn’t have Brandon here again after what happened, but what about the rest of his friends? I’m sure before Brandon attacked me, Buck would’ve called him a good guy. How many of his friends are just like that gross, nasty pig?
The thought of a nasty pig brings a face to mind, but it’s not Brandon. It’s Briggs, and it’s a face I haven’t seen in two days. Two entire days, he’s left me alone. It’s more than a little unnerving. Expecting him to randomly show up in my path the way he always does. Maybe he wants me to let my guard down.
Or maybe he thinks that disgusting little present he left on my pillowcase was enough. Like it was his last message. Could that be true? Did he finally get tired of torturing me?
When my phone rings, I jump on it like it’s a live grenade. Maya is my connection to the outside world, the sane world thathas nothing to do with Briggs or any slimy jerks who think they can do whatever they want to women. “Hey. What’s up?” I ask her, flopping down on the bed and staring up at the cracks in the ceiling.
“Do you want to go to a party tonight? I think you deserve it.”
I wasn’t expecting that. “A party? Where?”
“It’s not those Wicked Falls pricks throwing it,” she promises. “It’s a bunch of people I used to know from high school. Maybe you knew them, too. They’re, like, normal people. Regular people.”
“The opposite of the assholes we go to school with, then?” I conclude, and we both laugh, even though it’s not really funny. I still don’t understand what gives any of these people the right to think they can rule over other people with no repercussions. I guess that’s what a lifetime of having family members in power will do to a person’s brain.
“It’ll be fun, and you need some fun,” she announces. I wish I had her positive attitude. All I can seem to do is stumble from one day to the next and try to stay in one piece.
“I don’t know…” I turn my head to look at my closet door, and the thought of what’s inside makes my heart sink. “What are you wearing? I don’t have a lot to choose from.”
“You can totally borrow something of mine.” She says it like it’s nothing. I hope one day, I have enough in my life that I can freely offer things to somebody else.
“Are you sure that’s okay?”
“Come over to my house. I’m home alone and I am not accepting no for an answer, so don’t even bother. I’ll send you the address.” She sounds so happy and positive that it’s almost possible for me to believe this is going to be all right. Briggs isn’t going to be there. None of those awful bullies from school will. This is a whole different group—and if Maya likes and truststhem, they must be at least half decent people. She wouldn’t trust just anybody.
“Okay,” I finally sigh while she giggles, because she got her way. “Send me the address.” Anyway, it’s better than being cramped up in my room all night while Buck and his friends get steadily drunker and more out of control.
