Page 24 of Twisted Heathens
Britt manages a nod and I release my grip, grabbing her hips instead. Before anymore pointless conversation can resume, I slam into her, relishing the yelp that escapes her mouth. Britt acts all innocent, but she’s fucking soaked and loves it. Hard and rough, more of a punishment than anything romantic. She thrives on it, just like me. Just like us all.
“Oh Hudson,” she moans.
I tune her out, disconnecting completely with each brutal thrust. Pumping in and out without a care; this is a particularly sick form of self-torture. Fucking a girl that I literally despise, rather than giving myself the chance of something more.
Mariam would have a field day if she heard about this shit. She’s probably watching right now. It’s not like there aren’t cameras everywhere, I have no idea how we get away with half the shit that goes on in here.
I grunt through my climax, uncaring about whether Britt’s satisfied or not. Distantly, I wonder what it would be like to feel loved. To share something with someone special. I had that once, a lifetime ago. Brief and fleeting, a whirlwind love affair that ended as explosively as it began. It’s always the same with me, I ruin any good that comes into my life.
I may not deserve it, but I’d do anything to feel that again.
Nine
Brooklyn
Let Me Be Sad by I Prevail
I offer Phoenix and Eli a half-hearted wave from the entrance, watching as they walk to their class seemingly with reluctance. They can’t trail after me all the time. I’m a big girl and more than capable of handling this.
It’s Thursday and the second day of this pointless taster. The morning’s class is entry level science. Pretty basic stuff by the sounds of things, but my tasters have all been generic. Any specialism chosen will grant me access to more interesting classes apparently.
I say this like I give a shit.
Straightening my back, I follow the flow of traffic to the classroom. There’s work benches and stools scattered around. Hesitating, I glance around for a suitable seat. Everyone seems to have places already. Coming here was truly a mistake, I’ve never felt so on edge.
The memory of Phoenix’s teeth breaking skin sizzles through my mind. Damn, that was one hot mistake. I have to stifle the tingling that threatens when I think about that encounter. What the hell is getting into me? He’s just another asshole looking for a quick fix. I shouldn’t lower myself to his level. No matter how alive it makes me feel.
There’s an empty seat in the back corner, right next to a girl laying with her head on the table. The headphones on her head seal the deal, hopefully I can go a couple of hours without having to dodge conversing or small talk. It’s a minefield of social niceties that I have no patience for.
Plonking myself down, I do a quick survey of the room. There are a few familiar faces who I’ve seen about, mostly in the cafeteria or quad. A couple from my dorms too. From what I’ve gathered, there’s two housing blocks in this place. Oakridge and Pinehill. Each with fifty patients, all enrolled in this so-called experimental treatment.
It’s a huge operation, nothing like the close-knit ward of ten, that I came from where everyone knew your name and diagnosis. I hated that. People sticking their noses in my business, wanting to share and talk like some kind of group therapy shit. Luckily most of them were terrified of me when they figured out my identity.
“Hey there.”
It’s the girl, headphones now hanging around her neck.
“Hi.”
“You’re new?”
“Yeah, I arrived two days ago.”
Her eyes appraise me openly. I take a moment to give her a once-over, noting her dyed red hair, painted black lips, and shining nose ring. The scruffy Nickelback t-shirt earns her my approval almost instantly. She’s got good taste.
“You sure you want to sit here?” she asks.
“Pretty sure. Why not?”
Her eyebrows lift as she shrugs, giving me a crooked smile. “People tend to avoid me. I stress them out.”
“Why is that?” I ask casually.
“You really want to know?”
I nod in agreement. Not much scares me off.
“Well, for starters, I get here an hour early every day to move all the desks to sit at a perfect ninety-degree angle. All the stools have to be turned four times before anyone can sit on them. Unless you want to get hit by a car tomorrow. And if I don’t lock and unlock the windows precisely seven times, my brother will get sick and die. And that’s just for this class. So, don’t worry, I won’t be offended if you move.”