There was something so enamoring about deciphering the story behind each stroke and splash of paint. Each piece told a story, if you searched hard enough. While I collected pieces from Pollock and Rothko, my own creations were my most prized possessions. Nothing could come close to watching someone’s sins literally bleed out on the canvas. It was my way of giving them one last chance to leave their mark on this earth.
With Johnny taken care of, the pressure in my skull eased and my steps felt lighter. Sure, killing Johnny was necessary, he had mis-stepped and his death was inevitable, but I needed the pain and violence for my sanity. It was my way of satiating the demons burrowed within me.
My brothers never fully understood it. Then again, they didn’t grow up in the same hell I did. The need to unleash myself was primal, and without it, I may end up hurting people who don’t deserve my wrath. People that I care about. People like my brothers.
I especially needed that release before our new pet came home. She would be a walking temptation, and the last thing I wanted to do was kill her before we had a chance to play.
The girl had been weighing on my mind ever since that pathetic imbecile offered her up. Whenever I unleashed on anyone, I always knew what they did and why they were in my domain. But with her, it would be different. I didn’t know a thing about her, only that she was ours and she once belonged to the meth head.
Logic would dictate that she had to be a user herself. Why else would she agree to be ours? It mattered little either way. My demons would welcome hers with open arms.
I had no idea what she looked like and already my cock was hard just thinking about her agony. Would pain make her scream? Or was she more of a silent crier? Would she let me fuck her while I licked up her tears? Would she try to fight me off?
Fuck, I thought, readjusting my cock. I needed to calm down. After all, she was ours now and wouldn’t be going anywhere. I could take my time with her and enjoy every second. Real art was a labor of love, and her downfall was going to be my greatest fucking masterpiece.
Chapter 5
Stevie
The sound of a high-pitched scream jolted my body awake. Still groggy with sleep, it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the scene happening before me. It was like something out of a movie.
On the floor below me laid Alex trembling with fear. Her eyes were welling with tears and her body convulsed as she pressed her hand against her flushed cheek. Looming above her stood Malcolm, red-faced with bulging eyes.
The cash he got this morning should’ve made it so Malcolm wouldn’t be bothering us for at least a few days.What the hell was he doing here?
“Get up and let’s go!” He spat, grabbing for Alex and causing the fresh cuts on his face to rip open.
“What’s going on?” I asked, scrambling up from the bed and stepping between the two of them.
“That little bitch is going to pay back a debt for me.” He hissed, pointing a finger at her.
“The hell I am!” Alex spat back, crawling away from his reach.
I bent down to help her up. Malcolm had caught us off guard, but if we both attacked him we had a good chance of holding him off. At the very least, it’d give us time to make a run for it.
After making sure Alex was okay, I turned back around to face the asshole that had just crossed several lines. My eyes refocused on him just in time to see the barrel of a .45 aiming for the center of my forehead. On the other end of it stood Malcolm, trying to still his quivering hands.
“What did you do?” I whispered, feeling the icy tip of his gun press into my skin.
He had never been this desperate before and by the state of his battered face; he was in some serious trouble.
“I owe The Reapers a little money. Alexandra here is going to work for them to pay it off. Now move the fuck out of the way. I don’t want to have to kill you, but I will.”
I should’ve moved, but it was as if my mind couldn’t wrap around the words he was saying. He had sold my sister.My baby sister. “Paying off a debt” meant different things to different people, but messing with The Reapers was begging for trouble.
God, why did it have to be thefuckingReapers? No one in town would speak of them out loud, but their reputation preceded them. Those cold assholes could do whatever they wanted to her, and there would be no one to stop them. They had all the Caspian Hills cops and judges in their filthy pockets. I knew that whatever “work” they had in mind for her wouldn’t be good. No way in hell was I ever going to let them get their hands on her.
“Okay.” I said, pushing Alex behind me and slowly backing away. “We’ll do whatever you say. Please, just put the gun down and let me help her pack her things and say goodbye.” I asked, trying my best to show the signs of defeat that the sick fuck wanted to see.
“Stevie, what the hell? I’m not going-” Her words died at the sight of my icy glare.
“Yes, you are.” I hissed, staring deeply into her emerald eyes. “It’s the only way, Al. Don’t be stupid. Your dad is right. No one needs to die tonight.”
I needed her to trust me, and I prayed that referring to Malcolm as her dad would cue her in on what I was doing. No way in hell would I ever call him that. A plan was forming, she just needed to play along.
“Finally, you little whores start doing as I ask.” He gloated, lifting his dirty shirt to holster his gun. As the material slid up, it revealed a pristine white card hanging out of his pant pocket. The item looked so out of place on Malcolm’s dirty and disheveled body that it had to have been a recent acquisition. Maybe it could give us some clues as to what the fuck was happening. I needed to get my hands on it.
“Malcolm?” I asked, calling for his attention while offering him my fakest smile, “thank you for letting me say goodbye to Alex.” I said, pulling him in for an unexpected hug.
