Page 12 of Burn (Two Wheeled Psychos #2)

It’s been three days. Three long days and nights of nothing but one fire after another, and hours spent sitting outside Phoenix’s apartment when I should be sleeping and recovering. I’m a mess, a complete mess of thoughts, both irrational and rational, and they fight each other more and more with each passing second.

She’s gone to school, work at the student library, and to the bodega on the corner for meals, and that’s it. There have been no journeys to the police station, and no cops knocking on her door, at least not while I’ve been watching. Things seem okay, but the voice in my head still cackles at me, warning me that the police are coming for me, that she sold me out. I don’t want to believe him.

The night breeze is fresh on my face as I sit in the dark around the corner on my bike. The engine is off, and I blend into the parked cars well enough so that she won’t see me even if she walks right past. I don’t want that to happen though, because I’m fighting the urge every second of every trip here not to go knock on her door, bully my way inside and take her in my arms and on my cock.

I’m becoming more obsessed the longer I sit in silence, watching through her side windows, seeing her in there in the golden light doing whatever she does when she’s alone. I’m hard in my jeans when she comes to the window and looks out. I almost swear she’s looking at me, but there’s no way she can see. The street lamps are too far away, and I’m hidden, like the predator I am, hunting her from the shadows. Only, I don’t want to attack and eat her like a lion, I want to take her and make her mine, all mine.

That ain’t gonna happen, ya dick. You know that. It’s just a matter of time before she squeals.

“Fuck off.”

I’ve been trying the past few days to ignore him, but he keeps getting louder, and more of a dominant presence inside of me. More so than any other time in my life. I don’t know why. The only thing I can think of is that he reared his ugly head when I took her and gave her the last innocent piece of me by giving her the virginity I had held onto for too long.

It wasn’t really a virginity though. My cock has been wet before, hence why I hate any messes. The pussy I was buried in though was one that it never should have been in. She should never have done what she did to me, locking me away, starving me, and using me like trash. It’s all her fault. Even though she’s dead, the traumas she caused me have ruined me. My mother, the whore, the first one to die by the flame. It’s all her fault.

The air in my room is hot, too hot and I can barely breathe. Smoke from my mother’s cigarette filters in under my door, creating little puffs that waft through, then escape out my open window. At least I was able to finally pry the glass pane open after chipping away at the years’ worth of lead paint with my fingernails. My fingertips are bloody and raw, but the pain is worth it for the little bit of air that comes through the cracked window.

I can hear all the sounds of her and her male friend coming from the living room just beyond my door. Nasty sounds of wet flesh hitting wet flesh. Squelching and squealing noises that make my stomach turn. If there was any food in me, it would be coming up when I heave violently at the disgust of what I can imagine they are doing. I’m eight years old, too young to picture what they’re doing, but unable to ignore it as well.

I’m pretty sure they’re doing what she is going to do to me when he leaves. She always does. I think it’s why she keeps me. She tells me all the time I’m useless, a waste of space, a bother to her, and a nuisance. The only time she tells me I’m worth anything is when she’s alone and she comes to my room.

My bed is still dirty from the last time she came to me and touched me. I had an accident, and I made a mess from my “big boy”

parts. It was white and sticky, and very gross. Now I sleep on the edge of the filthy mattress away from it, even though it has long dried up to a crusty yellow stain.

It’s not long before the commotion from outside my room dies down and the front door bangs closed, shaking the walls around me. Then the soft footsteps approach, casting shadows under the door that push away the remnants of the smoke. She’s coming for me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

I can smell the sex lingering around me as I shake my head, clearing the memories of years ago. They’re memories that make me want to vomit, just like I used to when it was happening to me. It makes me glad that she died, and can no longer do those things to me anymore, at least not physically. Mentally, she still fucks me every waking moment of every day.

The sound of a door opening a closing breaks me free the rest of the way from my flashback as Phoenix emerges from her apartment building. She’s in black short shorts, and a pink frilly top with a scooped neckline. Sandals adorn her pretty little feet, and her hair is pinned back with little flower clips, keeping it off her slender face. She looks fresh and adorable, totally not the woman who sat next to me in the mud while the body burned earlier in the week.

She looks left and right, then crosses the street, holding her hand up for any oncoming cars to stop as she makes her way towards the bodega on the corner again.

“Dinner time baby? A little late tonight.”

I say following her with my eyes as she walks through the other pedestrians on the sidewalk and disappears into the front of the store under the yellow canopy that advertises cheesesteaks, fries, and shakes done Philly style.

My stomach growls from the lack of food lately. I’ve been so busy working and watching her that I’m seriously neglecting myself. If I wasn’t in a cutting cycle for the gym, I’d be pissed at all the missed calories.

“I guess a snack would do me some good.”

I say to myself, pulling the key from the ignition of the bike and stuffing it in my jeans pocket.

I’m in a t-shirt, and sans helmet until the new gear arrives, and my face is on full view of the world around me, so a snack and maybe, just maybe a quick bump into and nothing else.

She’s at the counter picking up her food when I enter the store. A little bell over the door jingles, announcing my arrival, and she instantly looks my way.

Not very stealthy, dumbass.

The smile that spreads across my face is impossible to stop when her eyes light up at seeing me standing there, looking her up and down, appreciating her long legs and pert little chest.

“Zeph?”

She calls out, her hand waving at me excitedly.

“Zeph. Over here.”

Putting a surprised look on my face, I waltz over to her, my grin widening.

“Hey Phoenix.”

“What are you doing here?”

She asks, mindlessly going to brush her hair from her face, then stopping when she realizes that her bangs are pinned back and it’s just a nervous gesture.

“I saw this place the other day, figured I’d stop in on my way through to grab something to eat. How are the sandwiches here?”

“Excellent. I get dinner here all the time. You’ve got to try their cheesesteaks, they’re to die for.”

At the mention of the word die, she clams up, her hand going in front of her mouth like she’s bottling up a secret. In essence she is. The secret we share, the one I’ve been worried that she’s going to speak of to someone else.

Her cheeks flush a bright crimson under the tanned flesh, and she looks down at her feet sheepishly. I can tell that she didn’t mean anything about it, and by her embarrassment or shame or whatever else she is feeling, I know that she hasn’t old anyone, at least not yet.

Yeah not yet. It’s coming.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“Hey.”

I say reaching out for her, brushing my knuckles down her reddened skin.

“No worries.”

Watching her relax at my touch does things inside my chest. My heart pitter patters like that of an excited child’s, and I want nothing more than to keep touching her. I never want to stop.

“I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I agree with her even though that’s probably the biggest lie I’ve ever spoken, beings as I’ve been seeing her every waking minute for the past three days.

I’m lingering in my touch too long, but she doesn’t seem to mind half as much as the guy behind the counter waiting for her to take her food from him.

“Ma’am.”

He says huskily, trying to get her attention.

“Oh…oh…yeah.”

She says, quickly turning from me and my touch, pulling back enough that my hand drops to my side, the skin of my finger feeling instantly cold from the lack of her body heat.

I wait while she pays and takes her take away from the annoyed asshole behind the counter. His eyes rake up and down her as she turns away from him, and he stares at her ass just a little too long.

You should burn him.

Clearing my throat to cover my growl of disapproval, I wrap my arm around her and lead her far enough away from the counter that the douche bag can’t reach over and touch her, before leaning against the glass and staring him menacingly in his fat face.

“I’ll take a cheesesteak and fries.”

I say, then dart my hand out, grabbing the front of his shirt.

“And your eyes off my girl.”

I add low enough that he hears me, but Phoenix is oblivious as she excitedly opens her bag and rummages around in it for something.

“Yeah, ummm yeah.”

He stammers, trying to back away, but unable to until I release my grip on him with a wink.

“All good?”

She asks, looking over at me, popping a potato chip into her pretty mouth.

“Perfect.”

“Good. Wanna join me when yours is ready?”

“Absolutely baby.”

Yep. Cooked. Ha ha ha ha ha!