Page 7 of He Should Be Mine

I hate it when Molly is full of cheek, sass, and defiance. I hate it with a passion that burns.

But when I finally break his spirit?

I hate that most of all.

Chapter three

Dario

Ilie down, fully dressed, on my shitty bed in my awful room. It’s done. Molly has been retrieved and punished. I can go back to sleep now.

Except it’s past four a.m, and it’s the middle of June. Behind the curtains, the sky is turning pink. Dawn is on the way and my stupid body thinks it’s time to rise and shine.

I sigh loudly. I might as well just lie here and rest. Let my thoughts wander where they will.

My mind whirls. It replays the sound of Molly’s crying. I grimace and steer my thoughts away.

They flow to the night I met Molly. The memory begins to play. All the details are etched into my soul and as clear as day. I’ve relived it a thousand times. Seems there are a thousand more times left to go.

I rub my hand over my face and surrender to it. Let it be my penance.

London in winter had been awful. Nothing but gray, dark and rain. I had gripped the steering wheel and navigated as best I could.

The words Riccardo spoke to me were ringing in my ears.

Find me a boy.

Four little words going around and around in my mind. Four little words delegating me to little more than a pimp.

Find me a boy.

You are the only one I can trust.

You are almost like a brother to me.

Fucking Riccardo. Why had he done this to me? It was demeaning.

I want to try fucking a boy.

Idiots will think that means I’m gay.

Discretion is essential.

I want one of those femboys.

Those pretty ones.

A twink.

A scowl contorted my face. I knew discretion meant only one thing. Killing the whore once Riccardo had finished with his fun.

So I needed to find someone who wouldn’t be missed. I couldn’t go to an escort agency, they track their workers far too well. I couldn’t buy someone on the market, because traffickers knew me and knew Riccardo.

I knew a street walker was going to be the safest option. Some drug addled nobody that not a soul would miss and who the police would never even look for.

I remember thinking about warning Riccardo to use a condom, before deciding that I didn’t care if the asshole caught syphilis. It would actually be a silver lining on the cloud of the whole nasty situation.

With that thought in mind, I drove to the red-light district. The first hookers I saw filled me with disgust.Disgust that the world can crush people so utterly. Distaste that human beings could be brought so low.