Page 3 of Hybrid Heroics

Something about York drew me in, tugging me closer until I was ready to accidentally—on purpose—trip and fall into his arms. I didn’t like this feeling. They were the type of emotions that would consume you, devour you whole, regardless of how hard you fought against them.

York swung his keys around his finger. “Will your car be okay here?”

“I didn’t drive,” I confessed, smirking as he raised a brow. “I flew.”

He led me to an old Ford Bronco, the exterior in need of a paint job. But as he opened the passenger door for me, the smell of new leather floated around us.

“I just got my license. Driving on the wrong side of the road is dangerous.”

I snorted. “You’re joking.”

“Not at all.”

“Most of the world drives on the right side of the road,” I informed him, catching his smile before he shut the door.

York slid into the driver’s seat, pausing once he put the key in the ignition. His mischievous expression caused flutters to fill my stomach, though they could have been knives, cutting me open and leaving me exposed under his gaze.

“Do you dance?”

“Not really.”

“Swing?” he inquired, somehow catching my lie.

“A little ballroom.”

He cranked his truck, then tapped his fingers against the steering wheel before he nodded once more. “That’s what we’ll do.”

“What will we do?” I asked, wondering what the fuck I was doing.

I shouldn’t have left with him, but I couldn’t make myself walk away. The sparse distance between us was too much. My fingertips burned with the need to touch him.

And I just knew… We were a brushfire waiting to happen. Only I hadn’t decided if I was the misplaced match or the dried grass. Either way, it would take a storm to slow down whatever this was.

“We’re going dancing.”

Possibly Monday, June 22nd

Time Undetermined

Expansive nothingness surrounded me. But the stark white emptiness was a hoax, another layer of security that was ingrained in my identity.

It was what any intruder would see once they entered my mind; myself included.

We all had secrets we chose to cover with sentimental memories and trauma responses. However; hidden behind this sham of sterile desolation was chaos like none other. A prison built for the sole purpose of playing with my victims.

Beyond the white abyss lay my true inner self, my core. The part of me that nurtured my psychopathy, that honed my emotions into compartmentalized statues. Those bitches acted like fools while I maintained the stability I needed to maim and gut and slay without a backward glance.

I could sense Alric lurking, watching me. Now that I was inside my mind, he couldn’t eavesdrop on my thoughts. He was as good as blind.

Funny how he didn’t seem to understand that before he picked a fight with me on a board only I could control…

This process worked like a jawbreaker. My first layer of security was the colorful speckles atop the white coating we were currently in. What lay beyond that was the yellows and reds and greens… But who could guess what order they went in?

Other than me, the answer was no one. I had ultimate control in this setting, though I didn’t plan on telling him that right away.

“I know why I’m an angry person, but what about you?” I asked Alric, raising my voice so it carried through the abyss. “Why are you so angry?”

He could hear me. There was no question about that. But what would it take for him to respond?