Page 40 of Trick or Treat
"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 beNixon." As he takes another sip of his beer, I shrug and avert my gaze, making him laugh.
"You feellike 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.
Wenavigate 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 ofme. 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 seethe 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 thisgame,the plan was to fucking kill themall.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 takeour 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.