Chapter 18
He corrupted her innocence. I crouch down in the back of the dorm showers, waiting for her. She’s a fuckin’ mess, and not by my hand. I watch as she tosses away her clothes into a discarded heap. Fortunately for me, I’ll be digging those out and keeping those for myself. A memento of sorts.
She scrubs and scrubs until her skin turns a deep crimson. She’s as desperate as I am to remove all traces of him. Wish I could replace his stench with my own. Call it a hunch, but I’d bet our scents would intertwine to make for the perfect mix.
Jax will be real sorry real soon. I rub my fingers against the switchblade in my pocket, thinking of all the ways I can get vengeance. My mind never ceases to run out of twisted, idealistic ways.
Carve his skin. Make him suffer. He touched what’s mine. He tainted her.
My deranged thoughts are interrupted by her soft crying. I peer over the tiled slab wall and see she’s sunken down to the floor in a crumpled mess. I would normally relish in her pain, but it brings me no fulfillment. It was supposed to be me breaking her. Jax’s little stunt has cost me time.
One advantage I’ve gained is that she’s curious. Her inquisitive nature has her wanting to know more about the world outside of her golden prison, and I will be the one to show her how cruel and unforgiving it can be.
I wait until she picks herself up from the cracked tile floor and treads back to her dorm before I retrieve her discarded clothes.
I hold them against my nose and inhale. They smell like her.
No traces of him thank Christ. My cock twitches.
It’s like having a piece of her with me, and being the sick fuck I am, I’m unable to hold back my need to come.
Her scent has a fuckin’ connection straight to my cock.
I lean against the tiled shower wall and sink to my knees.
Hastily, I unzip my jeans and pull my cock out.
He’s ready. Always seems to be with her.
This time I inhale her panties and stroke myself furiously.
Her natural scent is an aphrodisiac. Guess everyone has their own brand of pussy.
Lucky me that hers happens to quiet my insanity.
Just an added bonus that she’s addicting—get to use her and enjoy the perks. Lucky fuckin’ me.
I explode all too quickly, painting the wall in my ropes of cum. Now the real fun
starts.
***
Campus is usually busy at night with drunk fucks getting their dick sucked or sneaking into other dorms for not-so-secret high-stakes poker games.
But it was definitely advantageous of me to pick the one night everyone’s preoccupied with social events.
Mortensen, Kieran’s old man, likes to do monthly communal groups.
It’s meant to bring the students together, to meet others outside of their social circle.
Wouldn’t be caught dead at that shit; I don’t have a social circle.
Luckily, Jax doesn’t attend this shit either.
The guy runs with a few of the Elites, but I’m betting he’s probably getting his rocks off with some slut.
I settle into the darkness beside the streetlight, content to wait for the right moment.
Can’t rush it. Slow, methodical patience is needed. Can’t be messy.
The minutes tick by, and I calculate. Gotta be sensible. If Jax has a bitch with him, she’ll go run her mouth. Gotta wait till he’s alone. Wasn’t gifted with infinite patience, but I will make it happen if I have to.
I fish a cigarette from my pocket, lighting it to wash the taste of molly from my tongue. My eyes slip closed and my back hits the cool metal of the lamppost. The nicotine clings to my lungs and sends a surge of readiness through me.
Right on fuckin’ cue, Jax stumbles out of the Scribe Building. Probably fuckin’ one of the smart scholars. Why they’d fuck him is beyond me. Women always fall to their knees for bad guys; they crave the abuse.
I flick the cigarette butt from between my fingers onto the grass.
I watch as the sorry fuck struggles to regain his footing and slams into the stone-carved wall.
I pace myself, waiting for him to get far enough from campus that the school won’t be implicated in what I’m about to do.
Not too concerned if he talks. He won’t.
Instinctively, I find my switchblade and ready it in my palm.
He finally starts moving. His body sways along the dim path that circles the circumference of the campus grounds.
I keep my distance, shrouding myself in the darkness.
Gotta stay undetected. The streetlights do little to light up the winding path.
Fuckin’ perfect. This shit is almost too easy.
When we finally make it near the edge of campus; I take my shot. I slip out from the shadows and slowly match my steps against his sloppy ones. Just as the glow of the streetlights dissipates, I close in. Reaching out, I wrap an arm around his neck, then my blade meets his skin.
“What the fuck?” he slurs, struggling to dislodge me.
All he does is dig the blade deeper against his skin.
Good luck. Six-foot-six of solid fuckin’ muscle catches him off guard, and it gives me the advantage.
He grips my forearm, but it’s useless. I twist us around the corner and drag him by the neck into an empty building.
He’s too drunk to fight properly. Pity, I love the fight.
The door slams closed behind me with an echoing thud, encasing us in darkness. That’s easily rectified. I use my free hand and dig out my gas station lighter, clicking it in front of his face as he struggles against my grip. He reeks of cheap liquor.
His eyes trace up my arm where the flame of my lighter dances on my skin. My hoodie sleeves are up to my elbows from the scuffle. He maps the outline of my tattoos on my arm then freezes.
Realization dawns. “Zain?” He’s too drunk to fully realize how fucked he is.
“That’s right,” I say darkly. I let my words sink into his brain. “Told you not to cross me.
There’re consequences. You’re a problem. Nothin’ that can’t be solved with violence,” I assure him in a low, casual tone.
He starts struggling against me again. My grip tightens, cutting off his airflow. “Now, I’m not gonna kill you. But lessons need to be taught, don’t cha think?”
“Nah, man. I won’t try to rape anyone again. I swear!” he pleads, but I know he’s a lyin’ piece of shit. Once a monster, always a monster. I would know. His voice sounds desperate, which only fuels my perverse delight.
I chuckle and slam him against the wall. I reach for the light switch, pocketing my lighter.
His eyes narrow, unable to adjust to the brightness as he squints. He covers his face with his forearm as he cowers against the wall, boxes stacked neatly beside him in the corner. Each one labeled with which department they’re used for. The building is probably used for storage.
“Think I give a fuck about that?” I supply, my insides coil with rage. This piece of shit is as dense as they come.
He lowers his forearm, a look of perplexity written on his ugly face. He staggers against a stack of boxes before toppling to the floor in a drunken heap.
I invade his space and crouch down, cocking my head. “I don’t. You fucked with what’s mine,” I glower.
Sweat trickles down his neck from fear and probably alcohol, and a thrill jolts through me.
His panic is my fuel. Digging my switchblade out again, I snap it open, letting the metal shine against the fluorescent lights.
His eyes track my movements as I twist it between my fingers with practiced skill.
Cut him.
Make him bleed
I roll my neck.
“Please, man. We can solve this another way!” His bloodshot eyes beg as he holds his hands up and shrinks into a ball. I know I must look like a crazed lunatic, but I have a taste for blood.
And here I thought I was being reasonable. He wants an alternative? Death isn’t off the table. I’ll be happy to deliver.
I lick my inner cheek. “Wanna go another route? Not sure it’ll end well for you,” I emphasize darkly. A maniacal laugh leaves my throat. I roll my sleeves up to my forearms. Don’t wanna get my hoodie messed up. That shit doesn’t come out easily. Found out the hard way.
I yank his ankles and wrench him forward by his jeans.
He doesn’t fight. Too drunk and too afraid.
He should be. He’s helpless at my mercy, and I love the vile entertainment.
He kicks his legs out, knocking me in the mouth.
Pain radiates in my jaw. I swipe the back of my forearm over my bloody lip and see red, my anger reaching a boiling point.
I crack my knuckles against his jaw. Blood spews from the corner of his mouth. “You useless fuck!” I shout.
His head lolls to the side. That’s gonna leave a mark. His groans fill the room, and I know he’s ready to shut the fuck up, listen, and receive his punishment. I can’t wait to make good on my threat.
I climb overtop his body and rest my thighs on each of his legs, pinning him down to the cold tile floor.
I’m heaving. Adrenaline flows through my veins.
My switchblade cuts up his stained white shirt, ripping the fabric open.
His arms dangle listlessly at his sides.
His shallow breaths will make this easier—he’s given up now.
I know my handiwork won’t be perfect, but the message will still be received.
I hunch forward and bring the blade to the unmarked skin of his stomach. The tip breeches the surface. The prick of my blade makes red blood bead down his side and pool onto the floor below. Ear-piercing screams fill the silence, and I preen with sadistic glee.
His entire body convulses, battling the pain I inflict. Each stroke of my blade fills me with excitement. His half-assed struggle only spurs me on. Each letter carved increases the bloodletting. His torn shirt hangs freely against his sides. I wipe away the crimson pool of fluids with it.
“Shh. Your agony will subside and you’ll eventually go numb.” I fuck with him, making him think I’ll allow that to happen. Instead, every time he goes limp and quiet, I carve the blade deeper, prolonging his suffering. After I finish, I push off him and peer down at my work.
RAPIST
Once it heals it will be forever scarred into his skin.
No amount of Mommy and Daddy’s money will cover it.
I smile wickedly. He’s hanging on by a thread.
His body is in shock, cold and pale from the blood loss.
He shakes from the adrenaline pulsing through his veins.
Wish I could lick my blade clean, but his blood is tainted, dirty.
“Let this be a lesson, Jax.” I kick at his Nikes, then stride out the door with my demons sated.