Page 16

fifteen

Dodging Bullets

Saint

A s I sit on my balcony and observe the devastation the storm is wreaking on the small town, I feel at peace. The video I recorded last night of Scarlett repeatedly stabbing River plays over and over in my head. For ever touching her, Blade severed his hands. His possessive ass. And Riley wanted to play around, so he chopped his head off. Since I collect skulls, I now have it in my collection, right alongside Shawn's. I can't wait to show trouble.

Just finishing getting ready, Blade exits his room while running his fingers through his thick, curly hair.

"So, I heard Nixon gave you head this morning." He grabs a beer from the counter, rolls his dark eyes, and pops the tab.

"And?" He takes a sip, keeping his eyes on me as he walks over.

"Nothing, I was just saying. I didn't know you guys were hooking up."

He grins. "You fucking jealous or something, brother?"

"Please, if I wanted you, I could have you." We laugh together as we watch the storm from the window.

"Nah, seriously, though. Since when?"

"It's been off and on. You know how bored we all get cooped up here."

"Yeah, I just didn't think it would be Nixon. " As he takes another sip of his beer, I shrug and avert my gaze, making him laugh.

"You feel like going out tonight?" I ask him, having an idea in mind about trouble.

"If it involves sinner, then yeah, let's go."

"Obviously it involves her. Who the fuck else would it involve?"

As a bolt of lightning brightens the sky and a clap of thunder shakes the apartment building, I bump his shoulder with mine, pushing him against the wall. The lights flicker, and then the power goes out, leaving us with evil grins on our faces as we imagine how much fun we can have without power. Too bad she wasn't home. We'd be able to have a lot more fun with her in her dark apartment.

"Are Nix and Riley coming?" Blade asks, intrigue dripping from his deeply quiet voice.

"Nah, they're out following Melanie around since Riley is fucking obsessed with her now," I tell him, and he scoffs, shaking his head in utter disbelief.

"What's so special about her?" he asks, still shocked that they chose her over trouble, but to each their own.

"Not sure, but with them fixated on her, that leaves Scarlett for us."

"Come Halloween, is the plan still to just take her, or are we taking Mel now too?"

"Nah, just Scar, and Mel will come after. You'll see…" I smirk, knowing that the devious plan I’m hatching will have them all dropping their jaws to the fucking pavement.

I don't know where I come up with these ideas, but I know they're fucked up. I belong on one of those murder mystery shows that airs on the Oxygen or ID channels. They’ll make a movie about us one day, with all the victims of our crimes and torture. It's just a shame we won't be around to see it.

Blade and I left our apartment without turning around after getting ready, donning all-black clothing, slinging our backpacks with our masks and knives inside over our shoulders, and tucking our pistols into our waistbands.

We navigate the streets of Salem, walking in the direction of the cemetery, knowing exactly where Scarlett is. We take in the brisk temperature and the falling rain, letting it soak us in hopes that it washes away the sins that heavily coat our dark, sinister souls.

With each step, my gun digs into my hip, chafing the patch of skin where a skull and dagger are tattooed to conceal a gruesome scar from a knife fight Blade and I got into when we were teenagers. The memory hits me like a freight train, bringing a smile to my face as I allow myself to become lost in the past—a place I don’t allow myself to visit very often. I recall lying in the hospital and nearly dying as a result of the stab wound, but, unfortunately , the doctors were able to save my life.

They told me I was a lucky kid. I didn't feel lucky back then. In fact, I was wishing Blade's assault had killed me. Growing up was a living nightmare. It’s no surprise we ended up the way we did.

Growing up in foster care gave me the best life a kid like me could’ve had. There were no parents to love or care for me until Blade's parents took me in and fostered me. But what did I do? I fucked them over and got myself into trouble, bringing Blade with me. They disowned him because of me, going to their graves, despising their only blood related son for the things he did... because of me . Guilt stayed with me all these years, transforming me into a man who held a grudge against himself.

Blade has no idea how much I regret what I did to him, and I will never tell him. But I owe him my fucking life, and if there’s any way I can make amends for ruining his, I’ll fucking do it. Even if it means sacrificing a life for a life, I would gladly fucking die for my brother, and I would die with a fucking smile on my face—anything for Blade.

Blade

I can see the gears in Saint's head turning wildly as we walk to the cemetery. Even in the downpour, we proceed in silence, our heads bowed, our hands in our pockets, and our own joints hanging between our lips. The air is thick with tension, but neither of us is interested in talking about it.

Usually, when he gets in one of his moods like this, he'll start having flashbacks of being back in the war. He’ll experience severe PTSD symptoms, which usually result in a fight or in him going crazy and freaking out. Both of us have been off our fucking meds for months. We made the decision to stop taking them after Carli was killed, and we developed an obsession with Scarlett. When we are on them, our fucking minds get all foggy and disorganized, and we can’t fucking think clearly. We’re able to do whatever the fuck we want when we’re med-free, feeling more liberated than a fucking bird.

Nixon and Riley are aware that we are off our meds, so they’re extra cautious around us, carrying an emergency supply in case one of us goes into a psychosis or something and we need them. But so far, that hasn't happened. Knowing it could happen at any time does scare the shit out of me, though. For some inexplicable reason, my little sinner silences the voices in my head. She restores sanity to the insane. She brings order to the chaos. She makes the wrong right. She makes every-fucking-thing okay.

When we first started this game, the plan was to fucking kill them all. But the longer things go on, the more attached I become to her, and the more difficult it is to fucking think about having to kill her. I've never gotten this attached to a subject before. Even after ten months of fucking with her, I still don’t know what makes her unique or why she has such a fucking hold on me. Although Saint feels the same way, I know that his twisted ass is set on killing her when we’re finished.

We take our masks from our bags and put them on as we walk through the cemetery gates, the silicone covering our wet faces and dimming our vision. Knowing exactly where River's grave is, I take the lead, with Saint close behind. Instead of knives, we take our guns from our waistbands and cock them; the sound of the hammer clicking sends blood to my cock, making it hard and straining against the back of my zipper. As I walk, my soaked clothes cling to my body, making me shiver as the wind blows. Again, thunder rolls and lightning strikes, transforming the cemetery into a horror movie scene and bringing a smile to both of our faces.

"This is going to be fucking fun," Saint whispers as we approach the gravesite.

"She's going to sit on my fucking gun tonight. I want to see how well she can ride it." His laugh is evil, making my cock twitch as I imagine the barrel shoved in her pussy while my cock is buried down her fucking throat.

Scarlett is hunched over River's headstone, drenched from the rain and clutching a half-empty bottle of tequila, singing "Somewhere I Belong" by Linkin Park at the top of her lungs, her voice raspy from crying all day.

She has no idea that she killed River because the drugs are making it impossible for her to remember; we, however, dismembered his body. Saint and I sit on the soggy, wet grass with our guns gripped in our hands, puffing on our joints as we watch her take swig after swig from the bottle. She continues to sing, on the verge of losing her voice and her mind, unfazed by the torrential rain or thunderclaps that continue to ring around her.

We are clearly visible with each bolt of lightning that illuminates the sky, but she’s unaware of our presence because she’s not looking behind her. She can be so fucking dumb sometimes for a girl who’s so smart. That, or she just doesn't give a fuck now that River is dead. She lost the will to care about her own life, which makes her even more dangerous because now she might even go along with our little game. Things are about to become even more interesting.

Stumbling, she drops the bottle and raises her face to the sky, allowing the rain to wipe away her tears. Saint takes a pill from his pocket, leans forward, and drops it into the bottle, both of us watching it dissolve.

Now she won't remember a thing once she sucks the rest of the alcohol down. One of these nights, we're going to stop fucking drugging her so she can remember shit. If we have to live with the shit we've done, so should she. We only do it so she doesn't go running to the cops and turn us in. But when we have her where we want her—with us—she won't need to be drugged anymore.

Another crack of thunder strikes, louder than the others, vibrating the ground we’re sitting on. Scarlett recoils, clutching the bottle as fear knocks her to the ground. She chugs the tequila and hangs her head, not realizing we are right behind her, hunger coursing through our veins. Saint grows impatient, inching closer to her with his gun drawn, ready to start the game.

Scarlett

I’m not sure how long I have been out here, but the tips of my fingers look like they have been in a bath for too long; they’re wrinkled and cold from the rain soaking my body, but I still don’t want to go home. I know River will never return, but I can’t bear the thought of leaving him.

I clutch the tequila bottle and take another sip, ignoring the slight burn that lingers after I swallow. Since my body is essentially numb, I’m no longer bothered by it. I’ve almost finished the bottle, and I can feel the alcohol coursing through my veins, fucking me up big time. I close my eyes, ignoring the chill that tickles the base of my spine and spreads quickly, almost as if someone is watching me again. Too fucked up to care, I lean back against the headstone, humming "Until The Day I Die" by Story of The Year.

Tears fall from my puffy, bloodshot eyes, but due to the rain falling and soaking my body, you can't even tell that I'm crying. Good.

In the distance, leaves rustle and twigs crack, almost as if someone is stepping on them. I keep my eyes closed, but I stop singing. If someone's there, let them come for me. Tonight, I don't care what happens to me. If they want to kill me, let them. Except for Melanie, every single person I fucking care about is gone. And let's face it, I'm sure she'll be the next one to go. If not her, then it's me. So fucking come take me!

I let out an ear-piercing scream. River's death is entirely my fault. I can feel it in my bones, but I can't explain it. Hopefully, everything will make sense one day. I swig from the bottle again, noticing a bitter taste on the back of my tongue. Ignoring it, I swish the alcohol around in my mouth like mouthwash, washing the taste away and swallowing it down.

As the storm intensifies, my vision swirls and thunder rumbles through the desolate cemetery, reverberating straight to my bones. A quick turn of my head as lightning strikes illuminated two figures just feet away from me caused me to remain seated. My body is frozen, but my heart is thudding madly, almost pounding out of my chest. My grip on the bottle of tequila slips, spilling the rest onto the soaked grass.

The two masked men emerge from the shadows, this time holding guns instead of knives, instilling a new sense of fear in me. Are they finally going to kill me? Are they going to shoot me? Question after question runs through my mind, rendering me speechless as they approach, grinning behind their masks. Their stares penetrate my skin, making me shiver and slightly panic. I know I said let them come fuck with me, but I didn't mean it.

When I do not see the man in the red mask, I’m relieved because I know the torture won’t be as heinous. Still, seeing the glistening chrome guns in their gloved hands gives me a bone-chilling shiver, and I don't like it. The man in the gleaming silver mask approaches from behind, the muzzle of his gun gliding down the back of my head and neck, tracing the curve of my spine. I shiver violently, a chill coursing through my body, penetrating my bones and causing them to ache with an unfamiliar sensation.

The man in the ghostly black mask approaches me, taking his gun and violently shoving the barrel between my lips until the muzzle touches the back of my throat, eliciting a light, involuntary gag. I back up, attempting to take a step away, but instead find myself flush against the silver monster's firm chest, embraced in his surprisingly muscular arms. The black monster smirks as he takes another step into me, closing the gap by pressing his firm, bulky body against mine, effectively sandwiching me between them. The heat from both of them engulfs me, making me hot despite the fact that I’m freezing from the rain. With the gun in my mouth, I try to breathe normally through my nose, using exercises that I've practiced with my patients at the prison. They're fucking right; this shit doesn't fucking work.

Feeling the silver monster's gun now sliding down the seam between my ass cheeks, I clench them, trying to keep him out. Even though I know he can still get in, I'm trying my best to prevent it. I sway back and forth as euphoria hits me out of nowhere.

"You feel that, trouble?" Silver says, licking the shell of my ear.

"Enjoy the trip." He’s biting at my lobe, which causes a sharp pain to shoot through me.

I know the alcohol was too much because I can feel my body becoming numb and weightless. At any moment, I’ll turn into a useless mess that they can control and manipulate however they want.

I wonder if I'll be able to remember this tomorrow. If not, this explains why I can never remember anything. They're drugging me… and that means that I must have run into them the night River was murdered, and that's why I can't remember what happened. It all makes sense now…

"Sorry about your friend, sinner." The black monster speaks, slowly moving his gun in and out of my mouth, as if I’m sucking a dick... Even though he said he's sorry, he's still giving me a sadistic grin, but his lips look sexy as they curl and tug upward, meeting his dark, hooded eyes.

"Yeah, River, was his name?" The silver monster asks as if he does not know, which I find difficult to believe given that these men know everything about me and my friends.

I nod my head since I can't speak with the gun in my mouth. Finally, Black removes the gun. Smiling, he brings the soaked barrel to his lips and drags his pierced tongue along it, lapping up my spit with an animalistic growl, leaving me clutched in the arms of Silver.

"Want to play a little game tonight, sinner?" he asks, even though I know it's a rhetorical question.

"What if I say no?" Finding my voice and my confidence due to the heavy amount of alcohol flooding my system, I ask.

"Well, it doesn't really matter what you fucking want; let's be fucking honest. You're playing, like it or fucking not," Black bites back, a sadistic chuckle coming from deep within his chest, just as a boom of thunder rattles the ground.

"Have you ever played dodgeball?" Silver asks, whispering in my ear from behind me. I nod my head, feeling the gun digging into my ass.

"Use your fucking words; I can't hear you." He growls angrily.

"Yes, I have."

"Well, this is kind of like that." He snickers. "Except instead of dodging balls, you'll be dodging bullets ." I whip my head around so fast I get dizzy.

"Wh…what? Bul…bullets?" I stutter, stunned, as they both stand here with evil grins on their faces. As another deep shiver rocks my body, lightning strikes them just right, casting an eerie glow over them.

"Yeah, unlike you, we didn't fucking stutter," Black spits in a threatening tone that makes me cringe.

"You're lucky you 're a fucking virgin; otherwise, we would've destroyed that pussy the first night we fucking saw you," Silver bites viciously on my earlobe, running his gun across my collarbone.

"Just wait, though. When the time comes, we're still going to ruin every fucking part of you, sinner." Black's tone is threatening, actually making me scared for my life.

They both abruptly let me go, pushing me away from them as if I were infected with a deadly disease. I stumble in the muddy grass, grabbing a headstone to steady myself. They stand there watching me, guns in front of them, perfect posture as the rain soaks them, masks concealing their true identities. I stare at them in disbelief, not knowing what to do because I know if I try to flee, they’ll either kill me or catch me.

"What the fuck are you waiting for, sinner?" Black asks, sounding wicked impatient.

"Um, what am I supposed to do?" Panic and fear drip from my voice as I try to hold back my tears, refusing to give them that satisfaction.

"You're supposed to fucking run, trouble. You're supposed to try and dodge our bullets like we fucking told you," Silver says, as if I knew the rules of their twisted game. "And I'm warning you now, sinner, I'm a good fucking shot. We both are. So you might want to fucking run fast... now."

When I hear Black's threat, I spin on my heel and run as fast as I can. I run through the cemetery, weaving through headstones, as the sound of bullets whizzing by my head causes my body to convulse. They're fucking crazy!

I don't know how long I've been running, but the sound of bullets hasn't stopped. Luckily, I haven't gotten hit with one of them. I wonder what will happen if they shoot me. I locate a row of tall trees and crouch behind them in order to try and catch my breath after hearing a lull in the gunfire while thunder still rumbles all around me.

I feel as though I’m looking through smudged, prescription glasses, as everything in my world is spinning and foggy. I try to rub my eyes, but that only makes my vision worse, and I can already feel myself drifting into a dream. My fingers start to tingle as my hands go numb, and as I look down at my drenched body, I see that something red is leaking through my clothing.

I have to do a double take when I lift my shirt, but when I look again, even with my heavy, drowsy eyes, I can see a tiny hole just above my hip. Blood oozes from the wound, and my head spins as I graze my fingers over it, my entire body burning even though I'm soaked from the rain. A bolt of lightning blinds me, and I shield my eyes from the jolt. But as I go to lower my hands, my head starts to throb, and then everything goes black.

Something warm and wet brushes across my lower belly, rousing me from what seemed like the longest sleep of my life. I try to open my eyes, but they’re heavy, and the light above me burns my irises as my lids flutter open slowly. When I try to bring my hands in front of my face, I realize I can't; they’re held back by something cold and hard. I try to move my legs, but notice they feel the same way. Fear begins to turn my stomach, causing goosebumps to appear all over my body. A burning pain shoots through me, starting in my stomach and working its way up my legs and up my chest, making my throat so sore that I can’t even speak.

Once my eyes have adjusted to the bright lights, they widen in shock as panic grips my throat, making me feel as if I can’t breathe. A head of curly hair hangs down near my stomach, and I feel a tongue licking something across my skin. I try to move, but my wrists and ankles are bound by thick chains as I lie on a cold, bloody slab in what appears to be a tomb.

The man in the silver mask appears, his gun gripped in his hand, a long, black silencer at the end of it. Looking down again, I notice the man licking my skin is the man in the black mask, and when he lifts his head so I can see his face, my blood is all around his lips, dripping down his chin. He smiles, his teeth stained red, bringing the fear of the devil into my bones. What the fuck?

"Look who's awake," Silver says, coming closer.

"Where am I?"

"Don't worry about it."

"What are you doing?"

"Fixing you up. I told you we were good shots," Black says, while sticking his fingers into the hole in my abdomen, causing excruciating pain throughout my entire body.

Screams escape my throat, and I begin to shake as he digs deeper, eventually extracting a bullet from my flesh. He pops it into his mouth like a gumball and sucks my blood off of it before spitting the bullet into his palm.

"Wanna keep it?" An evil smirk crosses his lips.

"Fuck you," I scream, spitting at him as I thrash around, trying to free myself even though I know it's useless.

Silver comes closer, raising the gun and smacking me across the head with it. Again, everything around me goes black, and my body stills once again.

Blade

With sinner knocked out cold by Saint's brutal hit, I take advantage of her stillness and begin to sew up the bullet wound that pierced her delicate flesh. While he laps up the blood from her forehead wound, I lap up the blood covering her belly, cleaning her skin in preparation for what we have in store for her next. Whether she's awake or not, we've got a surprise for her. With only two months until we take what's ours, we need to get her ready.

After sewing her up and cleaning her blood away with my tongue, Saint and I stand back, arms crossed over our chests, admiring our naked little sinner, chained and sprawled out on the slab we use to dismember bodies. Such a wonderful fucking sight.

My cock screams from the confines of my pants, desperate to be inside of her. If she wasn't a fucking virgin, I'd be fucking her now. But we have an aversion to virgins. We fuck them together since we fight about everything. Both of us will be inside of her at the same fucking time, so we wait. For now, we have fun with anything we can. And while Nixon and Riley are having fun with Melanie, Saint and I are going to have some fun with Sinner.

Saint pulls her frail little body up to the top of the table, allowing her head to dangle over the edge. He grins as he makes his way to the end, spit-coating the silencer on his gun and aiming it at her pussy. I take my place near her head, stroke my cock, and watch her beautiful eyes flutter open, a look of pure shock flickering inside them.

“So much for her riding my gun tonight,” he laughs, sliding it inside of her and jolting her awake the rest of the way.

She starts to say something, but I shove my cock between her lips, cutting her off. She starts gliding her tongue around my shaft on her own, sucking as her head hangs upside down, giving her the head rush of a lifetime. I take a step closer, squeezing down her throat as far as her tight muscles will allow, noticing the outline of my cock protruding from her neck. When she feels Saint's gun sliding in and out of her pussy, her jaw widens, and I slam my cock inside, the head tapping the back of her throat.

“Be a good girl, sinner, and keep sucking like you were. Don’t pay him any mind,” I reassure her, smoothing out her hair and looking her in the eyes with my full attention.

Something happens between us when she looks at me, but it’s too late for me to undo what I’ve done, so I keep jerking my hips and fucking her mouth. Despite her best efforts, a moan escapes her mouth as I slide my cock out, keeping the pierced tip between her puffy red lips. Slowly, she circles her tongue around it as she warms up to the idea of both of us using her body as we fucking please. Since we started doing this, she has never said no to us. I wonder why.

As Saint lowers his head, he grabs her clit with his teeth and yanks ferociously, causing her to struggle against the restraints. She arches her back off the bloodstained table, and my cock slips from her lips as she opens her mouth to moan again. I stroke it against her cheek, smearing the clear beads of precum across her fair skin. Her face contorts with delight as she closes her eyes, not wanting us to see how much she enjoys what we’re fucking doing. She’s just as fucked up as we are, and I fucking love it.

“Are you sure we can’t keep her, Sil?” I chuckle, slapping the tip of my cock against her lips, urging her to open up for me.

He shakes his head and lifts his head from between her legs, wiping her glistening juices from his lips. “No, we can’t, Black. Rules are rules, remember?”

And just like that, he goes back to eating her pussy and trying to make her come while she sucks my cock, choking on the cum that spills down her throat. I lean down, my lips brushing against her ear.

“Sorry, sinner. I tried to save you…” A gush of hot liquid pours down her throat with one last pump of my hips, making her gag as I pinch her nose and hammer my cock between her lips.

As she coughs, cum spurts from the corners of her lips and drips from her nose, making her a mess, but she licks every fucking drop that I scoop up and shove into her fucking mouth like the good little sinner she is.

“Good girl. Now rest; that bullet wound is gonna hurt like hell tomorrow.”