Page 32 of Savagely Scarred

The birds are chirping.

Children are laughing.

And I loathe it.

I don’t think I’ve ever really enjoyed the same things as other people. Growing up, I had to fend for myself. I learned how to cook food at a young age or steal it if I was desperate. Which was most of the time because my mother was usually unconscious on the floor. When she wasn’t, she was off whoring herself for money, which she would then turn around and use to buy more drugs with.

We rarely had any food. I ate a lot of boxed mac and cheese and ramen. I looked forward to school just because I knew I could collect things the other kids didn’t want to eat.

My clothes were always filthy until I learned how to use a washing machine at the laundry mat. To pay for it though, I would have to steal quarters from the homeless or buskers on the street.

And then I met Trevor.

I just started my freshman year in high school, and he was in most of my classes. He was one of the rich kids whose parents wanted him to have ‘life experience’ over being brought up in a posh private school.

We bonded over being outcasts, which soon led to other hobbies we both enjoyed. Like getting high and fucking girls. The first time I walked into his brownstone, my jaw hit the floor. Literally, because his dad thought I was breaking in and tackled me to the ground.

But he had everything I could only dream about. A huge, beautiful house, immaculate and roach free. His own room with an actual bedframe instead of a beat-up used mattress on the floor. Clean clothes, video games, CDs and comic books. And parents who genuinely loved and cared about him.

I found myself practically living with him for the next four years. Anything to get away from my mother and that apartment. His parents apparently took pity on me because they never said a word about overstaying my welcome. And Trevor’s mother was a saint. A hot one that I jerked off to a lot because goddamn she was the definition of a MILF.

There was only one problem.

Trevor’s younger sister.

Olivia.

She was hopelessly annoying and clingy, following us around wherever we went. At night, I would lie awake on my disgusting mattress and think about ways I could make her disappear.

A break-in gone wrong.

Falling onto the subway tracks.

A fake kidnapping.

Or maybe she just ‘ran away.’

Because if she was gone, then I could move in and have her room. I could become a permanent branch on their family tree. They would have been so devastated over losing their daughter, that they would adopt me to fill a void.

But then something happened to alter the chemistry of my brain. Olivia went through puberty and my hatred turned into lust. She was the spitting image of her mother with the curves she now possessed.

Her breasts grew so fast and large that her mother had to keep buying her bigger bras. That was the first time I ever thought about fucking a girl’s tits. I stopped fantasizing about their mother and replaced her with Olivia instead. My dick became raw from masturbating to her so much.

I knew she had a giant crush on me, but Trevor didn’t want me anywhere near her. He still hated whenever she showed up unannounced or uninvited. I, however, didn’t care anymore because that just meant I got to molest her with my eyes.

The day she turned sixteen was the day everything changed. We spent the weekend at their cabin, and I decided I didn’t give a fuck about what Trevor wanted anymore. I was going to take what I desired for once.

All three of us were curled up on the couch watching a movie after his parents had gone to bed. My dick had been rock-hard for hours watching Olivia parade around in a skimpy tank top and pajama shorts that barely covered her ass.

I looked to my right at Trevor who was fully engrossed in the horror movie, high as shit and shoveling popcorn into his mouth. Then to the left at Olivia, whose chest was heaving and she was biting her lip.

Fuck it.

Faking being cold, I asked her to share the blanket and she happily obliged. I had to scoot a little closer to her so it would cover both of us and her cheeks flushed. I propped my leg up onto my knee to tent the blanket so movement would be less obvious.

Keeping my arm under the blanket, I grazed my finger up her bare thigh and her piercing blue eyes snapped to mine. We never broke eye contact when I slid my hand under the hem of her shorts. She was frozen in place—her breathing fast and shallow.

This is where a good guy would ask her for permission before continuing. I was not that guy.