by Dani René
“I’ve been thinking,” I tell him. “It’s been years. I mean, we’ve been together most of our lives. And…”
My words trail into nothing because I don’t know how to say it—how to ask him what I’ve been wanting to ask since my birthday. I’m twenty-five, and even though there are times I’m not here, but inside my head somewhere, I still want the same things any normal girl does.
“You know you can ask me anything,” he tells me, covering my hands with his as he watches me through the plumes of smoke rising from his cigarette.
“I want to get married.” I blurt out without thinking about it too much.
He’s silent for a long while before he smirks. “What my Sweet Molls wants, she gets.” His words are filled with happiness when he rises and pulls me into his arms. “Perhaps our families can come witness it. I’m sure Gigi would want them there,” he informs me. I know if my uncle does come to the wedding, I’m going to have to tell Pike what happened. Even though my dad is dead, my uncle knows, and he’ll do anything to steal me away from his son. I’m going to have to confess why I am the way I am.
The Factory
Molly
“Sweet Molls,” his voice is raspy with sleep as I roll over to find daddy staring at me. His one arm bent under his head, the other is draped over his inked torso. “I think we need to go out today,” he tells me, his eyes staring up at the ceiling now. I’m always the one who wants to head out and go on adventures, but this time he’s the one initiating it.
“And where are we going to go?” I ask, leaning the top half of my body over his.
“There’s one special place I want to take you. It’s somewhere you’ve never been, but I think you’ll enjoy it. And you can bring Gigi,” he smirks. The corner of his mouth kicks up into a grin that makes me squeeze my thighs together. My finger twirls along the ink on his stomach, making its way down to his cock.
“Oh? And where are we going?” I question, my mind already forgetting what he’s talking about when I find his thick shaft jutting up at me. Smiling, I lap at the tip, tasting the clear liquid that’s weeping for me. Wrapping my lips around the mushroom head, I suck it into my mouth, reveling in his taste.
“Do I taste better than him?” his question stills me for a moment, and I allow my gaze to slide to his. I know my frown is not the answer he wants, but I’m not sure how to respond. “Do I, baby girl?”
“Who, Daddy?” My words are raspy, and he can see the confusion in my expression. I don’t know what or who he’s talking about. I’ve only ever been with one person, and that’s Pike. Unless...
“Tobias,” he grits out.
My brows shoot together. “What do you mean?”
“The other day, when you licked his cock before slicing it off.” And then I hear it. Pike’s jealousy. He’s never seen me fuck anyone else. Yeah, we’ve done some shit, but I’ve never let any man inside me.
“Are you jealous?” I smile, hope springing in my chest. Pike shakes his head, gripping my long blonde hair and shoving my head down on his dick.
“You’re mine, Molls,” he grunts, his hips rising up as he fucks my face. Spit drips from my chin as I allow him to use me. “Mine. All. Fucking. Mine.” He continues to chant those words as his thick cock slides into my throat, again and again.
It doesn’t take long for him to shoot his release down my throat. When he finally let’s me up, he pulls me over him and kisses me violently. His tongue darts into my mouth, dancing with my own as he tastes himself. I’ve never seen this side of Pike. He’s always been the calm one. The level headed one.
“You make me crazy for you, Molls. But you’re mine.”
“I’ve always been yours.”
He nods. Nothing more is said as we get ready to go out. My mind runs a million miles a second, trying to figure out what Pike could possibly have planned. I’m prickling with anticipation as I rummage through my closet, before I decide on my torn fishnet tights, a pair of black denim cut offs, and my white Anarchy tank top. Pike is packing a small back pack, but I can’t see what he’s shoving inside. My curiosity is at an all time high and I am tempted to grab it from him to sneak a peek inside.
We walk through the street an hour later, hand in hand. People that pass us by smile, some offering a nod, but none of them know that we’re more than just your average couple, and that’s why I love living in a city. Nobody can judge us. To them, we’re just girlfriend and boyfriend.
Pike leads me down the road, closing in on the old abandoned warehouse that sits at the edge of the city. It’s looming shadow casts over us as we near it. I’m not sure what we’re doing here, but when Pike told me to bring Gigi, I had a feeling we’re in for a lot of fun today.
We enter the open space, Pike tugging me through the emptiness. When we reach a small door, he kicks it open with his boot. Inside, there are tables that look old and rusted. The space was used for manufacturing material and the machines are still there. Barren and lonely, they sit in the dank space with no one to use them any more.
“This place,” Pike announces, “used to be a hub of creativity. My mother worked here before she married my dad. Before she got so fucking rich she never needed to come back here.” He makes his way to one of the machines and chucks the backpack onto the table, pulling out objects and setting them on the in front of him.
“And you brought me here because?” I’m confused now, but Pike spins on his heel, holding up a small powerpack battery and some material.
“To make you something pretty.” He winks, the silver of his piercing glinting at me playfully. His mouth quirks into a grin, happiness shining in his eyes. I watch as he plugs the small machine in.
He goes to work, pulling and tugging on the material and I’m in awe. I’ve never seen Pike do anything like this, but it makes me smile to see him so excited.
“Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue,” he utters, focused on the project in front of him.
“You know I don’t need all that, Daddy,” I tell him, strolling through the abandoned space while he busies himself.
“Oh, trust me when I say, you’ll need what’s coming.” His cryptic words cause me to frown, but he doesn’t look at me. He merely smiles as he works on the material. He cuts, pins, and sews as if he’d done it all his life.
“Patrick?” Another voice comes from the doorway we entered a few moments ago. A voice I recognize all too well. My feet don’t want to move when the man I haven’t seen in almost twelve years strolls into the space. My father’s eldest brother, older than Pike’s dad, is the one man who stood by. Even though he’s a cop, he didn’t do anything when they took me into the room every day and made me cry.
“Waylon,” Pike says as he rises to look at the man. “You know Molls.”
The old man turns to me, his eyes wide with confusion.
“You’re still with her?” He sneers, and I know he’s not happy about the fact that I’m here.
“Of course,” Pike grins. He pulls out his smokes. Lighting one, he drags in a long inhale before he blows out the white plume of smoke. “You see, Waylon,” Pike says and I’m certain shit is about to go down. “Molly here, she’s my girl. Now, Tobias is an asshole because he didn’t help Molly when she needed it most. You know,” he says, strolling closer to my uncle. “A brother should be there for his little sister.”
Pike finally reaches our uncle. Rearing back, he punches him deep in the gut, knocking the wind from his lungs in a whoosh. When Uncle Waylon rises to his full height, Pike raises his hands and grips his cheeks. The old man wheezes as he attempts to catch his breath.
“What are you doing, Patrick?”
“I’m doing what her brother should’ve done. It’s taken me a long while to figure it out, to see how broken my sweet Molls is, and then I found it.”
“Pike, what are you doing?” I question, racing forward with my heart thudding wildly at his words. He found it. Oh god, did he find my hidden letter?
&nb
sp; When I turned eighteen, I wrote a letter to Pike. I told him everything that had happened. All the dark, all the pain, everything. I kept it hidden for all these years. I never wanted him to find it.
“It’s okay, baby girl,” Pike smirks, “I’ve got you.” He shoves the old man against the wall, holding him by the neck. He takes another long drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke into the old man’s face. Uncle Waylon is old, he’s frail, and the way Pike is gripping his throat, I’m sure his lungs are going to give out soon.
“Patrick, please,” he wheezes, attempting to pull in air into his lungs, but it’s no use. There isn’t any for him and Pike doesn’t look like he’s letting up.
“You hurt my girl,” Pike spits out. “You’re a fuck up,” he tells our uncle and I know for sure that he found my letter. All these years, I thought he’d leave me if he knew. That he’d run off and find another girl, one that’s not broken.
“Pike,” I place a hand on his shoulder. It’s tense, the muscles bunched in anger.
“It’s time for my baby girl to get her own back.” He smirks, then pushes Waylon onto the table. The man’s wrinkled hand is close to the needles. Pike shoves each finger under the industrial size metal spike.
“Patrick! What are you doing? Please!” Waylon grunts in agony with blood spurting from his hand. I watch in awe as Pike chuckles.
“I’m not here to save you,” my daddy tells him with venom dripping from every word. Then, those blue eyes peek at me. With a wink, Pike tells me, “your turn baby girl.” He gestures toward Gigi and I know what I have to do to take my strength back.
Stalking closer to Waylon, I smile when I slice his shirt from his body. The blade nicks him and more crimson liquid drips from his pale flesh. My gaze darts around, looking for something that’s simmering just beneath the surface. I can’t help giggling when I see what I need.
“Hold him down, Daddy,” I sing-song while I pick up the object I want. The rusted steel pole is perfect. “Bad, bad, bad, that’s what makes me sad. You will pay, you will die, I want to hear you cry.” My rhyme makes Pike smile and my heart fills with joy. When he helps me shove the dark slacks down from the old man’s hips, I position the pole where I need it.
For years, my mind has been broken. It’s been fractured by the nightmares that haunt me, but I feel like this will cure me. Just in time for our wedding.
“I love you, Daddy,” I grin at Pike as I move my whole body forward needing the momentum to drive the steel into the small hole of Waylon’s ass. An animalistic cry is wretched from deep within his gut.
I should pull it out, but I don’t. With more force, I ground my feet and shove forward even more. Blood drains from the wound through the pole where the once small hole was. Thank fuck there aren’t any people around because the pained cries that fall from Waylon are echoing around us.
“That’s for me,” I tell the old man. “That’s for breaking me,” I spit, twisting the metal until I hear a loud crack of bone.
When I finally step back, I glance at my daddy who’s looking at me proudly. His face carrying an expression of love—so much love that it steals the breath in my lungs.
“You should’ve come to me sooner.” He pulls me into a hug, the man on the table shuddering as he gurgles his last few breaths. Pike leans in to kiss me, his lips molding to mine. His tongue dances along my lips, and I allow him entry. He tastes like coffee and nicotine, and I revel in his flavor.
The monster is dead.
And I wonder if my mind is free.
Shopping Trip
Pike
I squeeze Molly’s hand as we enter the sporting goods store. I always thought the day I got engaged, it would be because I asked for her hand in marriage, not the other way around. It doesn’t matter really since the woman that I know I want to spend the rest of my life with obviously feels the same way about me.
It’s funny, though.
Even if we weren’t getting hitched, it’s not like we would be able to get rid of each other. Blood binds us in more ways than one, but my favorite kind is the one that makes her happiest. The kind that she loves to spill, play in, and share with me because it’s something she wants to do—not has to.
“What are we doing here?” she asks me curiously as she moves her hand from mine and slides it around my waist. I grin down at her, putting an arm around her shoulders and suck my teeth.
“Well, if we’re gonna get married and do this right with family and shit, then I think I need to get a little something to match the theme, you know?” I explain casually as I turn left down the aisle with baseball supplies. Molly shrugs and says nothing further as we walk past the gloves and balls, stopping in front of the bats.
Wood won’t work; those will break too easily. Plastic could be fun, but how many swings of a Wiffle bat will it take to knock someone out?
Suddenly my eyes fall on something so beautiful that it takes my breath away. I reach forward, running my fingers down the length of it and sigh happily. The only thing that’s ever been able to take my breath away before is my Sweet Molly, and yet here I am, faced with another thing of distinguished beauty that’s overwhelming my senses in a completely different way.
“It’s beautiful, Daddy,” Molly says quietly. I can hear the wonder in her tone—she must see it the same way I do and that only makes me confident that this is the right choice. It’s heavy—aluminum and black, kind of like our silver and black color scheme for our upcoming nuptials.
I take in a steady breath as I pick it up from the display rack it’s on and give Molly a gentle shove out of the way. Once I’m sure she’s far enough, I pull it back and swing it through the air, letting out a short laugh at the whoosh sound it makes, splitting the air.
“Yeah?” I ask her with a grin.
“Definitely,” she replies with an enthusiastic nod of her head.
I rest the bat against my shoulder and hold a hand out toward my girl. I intend to show her one hell of a time and give her a ceremony she won’t forget for as long as we both shall live.
All we have to do is pick a place and then send out the invitations.
Molly wrinkles her nose at me and I laugh.
“I’m telling you that I trust this guy,” I say again with a grin. “He’s ordained in some kind of denomination or has a license or some shit to do this. As soon as it’s done, and I get to kiss my bride, he’ll get paid and take off. If anything else should happen, I guarantee he’ll act like he’s never even heard of us before.”
I lean back in my chair, sliding my thumbs on the inside of my suspenders, running them up and down the material while Molly mulls over my suggestion. I know why she’s so hesitant. It’s because in the entire time that we’ve actually been together, I’ve never once mentioned anyone besides her, because honestly, no one else matters to me. But we need this guy to help us and I don’t know how else to get her to understand other than telling her that I trust him a thousand times over.
“What’s his name?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest and jutting her chin out toward me.
“Jameson.”
“And where do you know him from again?” she presses, furrowing her brow.
“Babe, I told you—the first and only time we ever got into an argument and I went out to cool myself off, I met him at that old bar over on Bleeker. We got to talking and he told me some crazy shit about himself over a few beers and every now and then, we hang out.”
“When? When do you guys hang out?” she asks, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
I lean my head back and let out my breath in a heavy sigh. “Molls. Babe? Do you listen to me when I talk? I’m just wondering because I already told you no more than five minutes ago.”
“I forgot,” she replies coolly.
“Okay,” I begin as I clasp my hands behind my head. “Sometimes, when you sleep for a couple of days straight, I go out and walk around. Sometimes, I end up at the old bar over on Bleeker and Jameson happens to be there. We talk—ab
out everything. You and me, him and his crazy shit, and how it’s funny that we’re pals because we don’t have a fucking thing in common. And then when we’re done bullshitting for a couple of hours, we pay our tabs and leave. I come home to you and I don’t know where he goes off too. It’s not my business.”
And if I have to repeat this again, we’re going for the second argument in about five years.
“Oh, that’s right! You told me already,” she replies with a girlish giggle.
I close my eyes and shake my head imperceptibly as I take a deep breath, smile, and turn my attention back toward my Sweet Molly. “You’re gonna be the death of me one day, sweet thing,” I say quietly with a laugh.
Molly pulls her legs up on the chair and wraps her arms around them. She sticks one finger out and reaches around the side of the table for my chair, pulling her so close to me that the tips of our chairs are touching. I lean down and nip at her finger, growling like a dog and she giggles in response.
“Seriously though, babe. Are you good with Jameson doing it for us?” I ask before leaning down and kissing the tip of her finger.
“As long as you trust him, then I’m fine with it,” she replies with a shrug.
“Cool,” I say with a smile. “We can go to the bar tonight and look for him. I’m sure he’ll be there, but if he’s not, we can have a couple of beers and be that annoying couple that sits in one of the back booths making out and feeling each other up.”
“Can I bring Gigi?” she asks in a small voice.
“Not tonight, baby,” I reply, shaking my head. “We won’t need her—he’s a good dude, I told you that. Actually, I think you should save Gigi until we get the family together to witness us getting married, okay?”
Molly pouts and turns her face away, but I reach forward and gently place a hand on the side of her face, turning it back toward me.
