Kasien
The first shot cracks through the air and punches a neat hole through the paper man’s throat.
“Too high,” Adrien calls from somewhere behind my right shoulder.
I grit my teeth and reset my stance, feeling the concrete under my boots, headset clamped over my ears, the sharp stink of gunpowder already hanging thick in the training hall.
The whole place is just grey walls, plywood barricades and silhouettes waiting to die. I breathe out, line the sights on center mass this time and squeeze. The recoil jumps up my arm, familiar, almost comforting. This one lands where it’s supposed to.
“Better,” Adrien says.
I glance over my shoulder at him. He’s in full gear—dark T-shirt clinging to his chest, range belt, holster, extra mags clipped in place. Safety glasses, curls messy as always under the headset.
Behind the glass up above stands one bored-looking instructor drinking coffee and pretending not to notice all the rule-breaking.
Adrien steps up beside me and taps the screen on the side of the lane. The targets reset with a mechanical whine. I move when the buzzer screams. Forward, left, cover behind the first plywood wall, lean, sight, shoot. Twice. Center mass and head.
My body knows the pattern by now. It’s just about keeping my brain from wandering off.
It still does. I see the next target pop out from behind a faux door and suddenly it’s not a faceless cardboard guy, but Kiara’s face in my head, laughing at something stupid I said.
Strawberry smoothie on her lips. Her in my hoodie.
“Focus, lover boy!” Adrien barks.
I blink, jerk the barrel back where it belongs and put two bullets in the paper’s chest.
We finish the run.
I hit most of my shots, screw up one angle, and leave a “hostage” target untouched.
When the buzzer cuts off, my heart’s hammering harder than it should. Sweat prickles between my shoulder blades even though it’s cold here. Adrien hits the button again and brings up the stats on the screen. He tilts his head, lips pressing together like he’s trying not to smile.
“Well, congratulations. You shot more like shit than usual,” he says.
We drop down on the worn-out bench, guns cleared and resting safely on the table in front of us.
There are empty casings everywhere on the floor, rolling every time someone walks past. The overhead lights buzz faintly.
In the next lane, someone starts another run, more shots echoing through the hall in quick bursts.
“So. Talk. How was your little drive last night?” He even does air quotes. Asshole. I stare straight ahead at the targets instead of him.
“It was fine.” I can’t fight the smile spreading on my face.
“Fine,” he repeats slowly, grinning like an idiot.
I roll the bottle between my palms. My knuckles are red and scraped, still sore from earlier. Adrien huffs a laugh.
“Wow. Shakespeare. Very clear.” He doesn’t let it go, obviously. He never does. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, watching my profile.
“You like her,” he says. Not a question.
“Yeah.” I don’t bother denying it. There’s no point. “I do.”
“How bad?”
I exhale, slow. The memory of her pressed against me in the backseat flashes like someone lit up a film projector in my skull. Her hands, her laugh, the way she looked at me afterward like I’d hung the moon.
“Bad,” I admit quietly. “Really bad.”
He lets out a low whistle. “That is impressively stupid.”
“Thank you for the support.”
“You’re welcome. I care.”
We sit in silence for a few seconds, just the distant gunfire filling the gap. My pulse is finally calming down. Kind of.
“So?” Adrien kicks my boot lightly. “What did you do, exactly? Talk? Make friendship bracelets? Hold hands and stare at the stars?”
I give him a look. “We drove. Talked. Went up to the viewpoint.”
“Yeah, yeah. And?”
“And drop it.” I snap at him.
He makes some fucked up faces at me and laughs.
I punch him, he punches me back, then we sit in silence once again. He takes the rest of the gear off, his clothes soaked with sweat, and leans back against the wall, tilting his head to look up at the concrete ceiling.
“You know this is a terrible idea, right?”
“I know.”
“Like the top ten worst decisions you ever made.”
“Top three,” I correct him.
He huffs a tiny laugh. “Nat is eighteen in a year. We take her and go,” he states firmly.
“That’s the plan,” I assure him.
I just can’t imagine not including Kiara in my escape plan now, but I don’t tell him that.
A year is a long time. I can figure something out.
We sit in silence, both of us slowly taking off all our gear and sweat-soaked clothes. I hope I’ll see her today since she was working late yesterday, going home with her mum.
“Is it too much that I want to see her every day?” I ask him.
“No,” he immediately answers, but keeps staring in front of him, zoned out. He’s been distant and zoned out often lately. It’s weird. Weird for him, since he’s the craziest person I know, always making trouble.
My phone rings and my throat tightens, my heart hammering as I see the name. I have to take it to the bathroom to pick it up so Adrien doesn’t see how fucking bad my anxiety is.
“Yes?”
“Be at Victoria’s today at ten p.m.” Sylvia’s voice snaps in my ear.
Bile rises in my throat.
Please no. No fucking way.
“Why?”
“She asked for you.”
“You said it was just once,” I grit out.
I feel like I’m going to vomit again. I can’t do this anymore.
“Well, she likes you,” she says as I’m supposed to be proud of that.
“I’m only eighteen!” I whisper-yell so Adrien doesn’t hear me over the door.
“Kasien, she’s one of the highest people in this society, it’s non-negotiable. Be there. And stop making such a big deal out of fucking! Did I teach you nothing? Sex is a tool, so take your nice toolbox and be at Victoria’s house at ten!” she yells and hangs up.
I stare at the phone for another couple of minutes, fighting myself not to throw it out the window. I collapse to the floor, gripping my hair, wanting to pull it all out.
I can’t do that. I don’t want to do that. She’s a fucking pedophile. I can feel the vomit rising again as I can’t fight the flashbacks in my head.
Just like that Kasien, you’re good honey.
Let me.
That’s it.
I shoot up and stumble into one of the toilet booths a second before the vomit comes out and splashes all around the toilet.
I choke on the rest of it and cough it out before I crumble to the floor, the pain in my chest not stopping, tightening and agonizing, the taste in my mouth disgusting.
My face drops in my palms and I hyperventilate until the worst of it passes.
?
I lie down on the dock, running my hands along her thighs and dragging my fingers up to the beautiful curve right between her lower belly and thigh, the hip crease. I love how her skin crumbles there when she sits on me. I play with the strap of her panties, teasing.
“No ripping of clothing, understand?” She commands me.
That’s so hot.
The wooden dock creaks under us, the sea waves hitting the rocks all around us, the dark sky full of stars serving as her background while she’s above me, her hair falling around us like a curtain shielding us from the world.
“Take it off then.” I tease.
“We’re on a beach!” she squeals.
I tilt my head to look around us.
“It’s empty.”
She’s so adorable when she’s nervous like that. I can still feel her cum on my hands from an hour ago, before we even got out of the car, and I want to do it again.
It’s my new obsession, feeling her shatter in my hands, making her tremble and melt into me.
Yeah, I might be addicted.
“You’re right,” she says with a flirty voice and takes the hem of my T-shirt, sliding it up. I help her take it off me, and she’s immediately down on me, licking my neck.
My eyeballs roll to the back of my head.
Her lips are out of this world. She trails her kisses down my stomach, tenderly kissing the V-line, getting closer to my lap.
“Kiara,” I gasp and take her hair gently to stop her.
She gets back to me and plants a soft kiss on my nose, always so tender.
So tender I want to ruin her thoroughly.
“Why can’t I touch you?” she asks, almost whispering, afraid.
Fuck.
Because I’m so fucking scared I’ll see someone else in my head. Doing something I don’t want them to do.
I’m scared I won’t be able to push them away and I’ll collapse. Or worse, snap. And you’ll get scared and realize how fucked up I am.
I want to tell her everything.
She knows the things that are already buried—where do I come from, how did I end up here.
But I can’t tell her the things that are burying me alive now as I’m desperately trying to stay above the ground.
If she only knew she’s the one getting me out of that grave, giving me hope.
“I’m just nervous,” I finally mumble.
“I’m sorry.”
My sweet Kiara, she’s so pure and tender. How could she want me?
She gets down from my lap, lies next to me and we stare at the stars for a moment.
Okay.
I can try. I can replace all the memories.
I’ll replace them all with my Kiara.
My head tilts toward hers, still deciding if I really want to do this, and I kiss her, deeply, hungrily. Her tongue finds mine and she threads her fingers through my hair, our bodies angling toward each other as we lie on the wooden dock.
She smiles and leans more into me, then gets back on my lap, hovering over me as I grip her nape, not letting her pull away from my lips. I feel her fingers already undoing my jeans. I’m so painfully hard that only her touch there makes my blood run warmer.
I hold her nape so she doesn’t stop kissing me as I sink my other hand under her dress, grazing my fingers on that special place in the crease.
She’s being too tender down at my groin and it’s making me want her way more.
Her hand finally manages to take me all out and she starts touching me, slowly, like she’s afraid.
It’s enough to make me choke on my breath, but I keep her close to my lips, just inches from me, so I can see her and smell her hair the whole time.