Page 15

FOURTEEN

ECSTASY

CONSUME—CHASE ATLANTIC

KILLIAN

I usually keep a clear head the night of a race. I avoid getting high, saving it for after the win that we usually take. But tonight’s story is oddly different.

I pace the worn-out carpet laid out across the living room floor, a nervous fucking wreck. Not only is Cali stuck on my mind, but my father—minutes away—is bringing company along with him, and unfortunately for me, that means a long night of sick games and unwanted advances I never want but always get.

I pop a tab of E and snort a line of coke, wiring my brain to the max so everything inside of me is numb. A knock at my door has my entire body trembling, and knowing Dom or Ash aren’t here just makes things ten times worse. It takes me a little while before I make it over to the door to open it, and looking at my father, I can tell that he isn’t happy that I kept him waiting. He doesn’t say anything when he walks in, a congressman behind him, but I know I’ll hear it sooner or later.

“Sit,” he says bluntly, flicking a lighter to light the cigar sticking out of his mouth, his eyes dark and tired.

High out of my mind, I sit on the couch and stare at him, ignoring the disturbing glances from the filthy man beside him. I can’t tell if it’s the drugs or what, but an eerie feeling infiltrates my body, stiffening all the baby hairs on my arms, legs, and back of my neck; it’s as if we’re being watched or some shit, but as I quickly glance out the wide open windows behind him, not a soul can be seen lurking in the darkness.

“Have you or your friends heard from or seen Calista?” My father asks, deliberately blowing stale smoke right in my face.

I shake my head, feeling detached from my body. “No, sir,” I slur, dragging out each letter.

“Fucking do better, Killian,” he scowls, bearing his top teeth like a feral dog. “I want her ass found before her parents fucking find her. Do I make myself clear?”

With heavy eyes and a racing heart, I mutter, “Yes, sir,” hating myself for turning into a weak little boy in front of him.

When you've been betrayed and abused by someone you trusted for so long, it does something to you. It turns you into a person you’re ashamed of—who you don’t recognize. And even though it’s already fucking shattered, they continue to break your spirit little by little, knowing exactly what they’re fucking doing.

The congressman drops a plain white envelope onto the dusty table, an impatient grunt slipping from his dry lips. “I don’t have all fucking night, David,” he tells my father while staring me down hungrily.

My father picks up the envelope and counts the crisp hundreds inside, flashing a devilish wink with a heavy puff on his cigar. Taking out five of the bills, he drops them on the table and shoves the remaining money into his breast pocket of his jacket.

“You know what to do, son,” he says smoothly, giving me a head nod as I sit frozen to the couch, afraid to move even an inch.

My mind is racing, my hands shaking as I watch them exchange a devious, knowing look. I feel sick to my stomach as I get to my feet, the drugs wearing off and leaving me feeling all kinds of emotions that I was trying to escape from. I keep shaking, the feeling of prying eyes burning a hole into my body from somewhere in the distance. But just as I’m about to drop to my knees in front of the eager congressman, the lights go out in my apartment, enveloping us in nothing but pitch black, thrusting us into the unknown.

“What the fuck is this shit?” The congressman, now angry, snaps at my father, the sound of his pants zipping easing my upset nerves.

“I’m not sure, Zane, but I promise you we’ll figure it out.” The anger in my father’s voice is easily noticeable, and suddenly I find myself fearing what he might do now. “Did you pay your fucking bill, Killian?” He puffs on his cigar again as he walks to the light switch, trying to flip it on and off with no result.

“Yeah, we always do. I’m not sure what’s going on.” Even though it’s the truth, I know he doesn’t believe me, but I don’t dwell on it too much.

Instead, I find myself questioning what in the actual fuck is going on.

“Fuck it,” Zane sighs, his zipper coming down once again. “I can still fuck you in the dark.”

I gag, knowing neither of them can see me, slowly backing away from them until the back of my knees hit the couch. I can feel the tickle of someone’s breath on my neck, but I don’t dare turn around to find out whose. And before I’m forced to my knees again, a loud banging snaps my wide eyes to the door.

“Don’t worry,” a strange voice calls out from the hallway. “I called the police, and they’re on their way.”

Confusion settles into my mind as I try to figure out what this person is talking about, and I hear how terrified my father’s breathing becomes. The person then moves down the hall, banging on door after door with the same message.

“Killian, we’ll reschedule this, so don’t think about going anywhere,” he states abruptly, opening the door and walking right out with Zane.

What the fuck was that about? I wonder, feeling the coke wearing off but the ecstasy kicking in, leaving me wide-eyed and panicking in the pitch black.

I stumble around in the darkness, trying to gather my thoughts. The police are on their way, my father and his corrupt companion are fleeing, and I’ve been saved by a stranger. My heart is racing and my mind is foggy from the drugs, but I know I need to get the hell out of here.

Scrambling to find my keys, wallet, and phone, a cold chill wracks my body as my life flashes before my eyes. I’m usually not afraid of the dark, but I can tell there’s something lurking in it along with me. As soon as I gather myself as best as I can, I head for the door, only to be shoved backward, stumbling over my shaky feet.

“What the-” I panic, falling onto the chair beside the couch, trying to feel my way around to find the pistol we keep tucked between the arm and the cushion. The sound of light footsteps makes me freeze, nothing but the sound of my rapid pulse thundering in my ears.

“Going somewhere? The voice asks, low and gravelly but somewhat familiar.

However, in my state of mind, I can’t seem to piece anything together.

“Who the fuck are you?” I whisper, trying to conceal the shakiness in my tone.

“You know who I am, Killian,” they say, striking a match to light a cigarette, the soft orange glow illuminating the mask covering their face.

A big, black, painted-on smile flashes like a camera in front of me, making my heartbeat more frantic than before. Long black hair with blood red streaks falls on straight shoulders, making me even more confused. Nothing but black attire adorns the figure in front of me, covering any telltale signs of who it might be.

When the flame goes out, they step closer, snatching me up by my collar before I can find the gun I was looking for. I’m then pushed onto the couch with force, bouncing in the middle of the cushion as whoever it is straddles my lap, topping their terror off with a sharp, shiny blade to my throat that turns the blood in my veins to ice.

“Stay perfectly still, Killian,” they hiss, their breath hot against my face. “Or things will get real messy.”

The gleam of the blade in the light filtering in from the window sends a surge of fear coursing through me. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing for a way out of this situation. I glance around desperately for anything that can help me, but everything feels so far out of reach.

“Who are you?” I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper.

But their painted-on smile only seems to stretch wider, their familiar eyes glinting in the darkness.

“You know who I am,” they repeat, their voice sending shivers down my spine. “You can’t escape me, Killian.”

They press the blade closer to my throat, letting a slight moan slip from under the mask as they rock back and forth on my lap. High, confused, and terrified, I sit here and stumble over my words as I beg for my life.

“Ple, please don’t kill me.” I shake against them, feeling my cock growing as they press their ass against it harder.

“Silly boy,” they laugh, flipping the blade around and dragging the dull edge across my throat. “I don’t want to kill you. I saved you, Killian.” With their free hand, the masked stranger cups my cheek, raking their nails along my jawline.

Once I have confirmation that my nightmare is a girl, I breathe a little bit easier, but it still doesn’t get rid of the fear flooding through my body. I’m not sure why, but the fact that this person is a girl puts me a little more at ease, even though they’ve got a fucking knife to my throat.

“If you don’t want to kill me, why are you here?” I manage to ask, finally finding my voice as she continues to grind back and forth on my lap, obviously enjoying themselves.

“I wanted to save you, Killian,” she whispers in my ear, flipping the knife around again, the sharp point digging into the spot just below my Adams apple.

“You couldn’t save me, but I could save you.”

I shiver from the darkness of her tone, only one name flashing in my mind—Calista. Could it be her? Why would she do this, though?

“Ca-” As soon as I attempt to say her name, Dom’s and Ash’s voices can be heard outside of the front door as they fumble with their keys.

The girl climbs off my lap, cutting my neck in the process. As the warm blood drips down my chest, I stay stuck to the couch as she disappears into the dark, leaving me reeling in fear and confusion. I sit here for a moment, breathing heavily and trying to calm my pounding heart.

Ever since her parents destroyed her, Calista had been a troubled soul, but I never thought she would come after me like this. I can’t even comprehend what just happened, and the thought that she’s out there, somewhere in the dark, acting like this, makes my blood turn to molasses.

The events of the night have left me feeling vulnerable and lost. It’s a chilling reminder that sometimes the people we think we know the best can turn out to be the most dangerous.

When the guys finally make it inside the apartment, they flip the light switch, and my eyes burn from being in the dark for so long. Worried and shaking, they rush over to me and drop to their knees, a million questions swirling behind their eyes.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Dom shrieks, grabbing a discarded shirt off the floor and putting it to my throat to stop the blood from the small cut.

I shrug, at a loss for words about what truly happened. “I don’t know. My father,” I begin, my eyes wide and flicking around to make sure she isn’t still here. “My father was here and...”

“Why are you bleeding, Kill? Why is there a fucking slice on your throat?” Ash tries, asking me in a much calmer tone than Dom, which helps me slightly relax.

I look at them, still stuck to the cushion, and snatch the cigarette out of Dom’s mouth, puffing on it like it’s the air that I need in order to survive. My body still trembles, but I can’t be sure of what happened. What if it wasn’t Calista? What if it was another one of my father’s victims out for revenge? It’s a possibility, seeing how my father preyed on the young and weak all throughout the city. The possibilities are endless, but even so, deep down I feel like it was Cali in the mask with a knife to my throat, and my heart twists even tighter the more I think about it.

“Kill?” A nervous whisper comes from Dom’s lips as he sits on the couch beside me, his hand squeezing the spot above my knee.

Flicking my eyes between both of them, I manage to clear my throat and find my voice. “I think Calista was here tonight.”

The looks of shock and disbelief on their faces mirror my own feelings as I go on to recount the events of the night, including the masked intruder’s familiar voice and the subtle hints that led me to believe it really was Calista.

“And she seemed... different—twisted, almost.” I finish off, taking a deep drag off the cigarette and leaning back against the couch. “I don’t know what to make of it.”