Darkness Within

by Isabel Lucero

  “Fuck,” I mutter. The last thing I need is a clogged drain right now.

  As I’m scrubbing the dried blood from my skin, the toilet flushes and one of the stalls swings open. Hopefully it’ll be some nasty ass dude who doesn’t care to wash his hands, because this is the only sink, and it’s currently filled with blood.

  I don’t bother turning around, hoping he’ll just leave, but I’m surprised when a woman comes up next to me, peering down into the sink.

  “Looks like you hurt yourself,” she says with a hint of amusement in her voice.

  I look to my right and see her gazing up at me with a smirk.

  “Looks like you’re in the wrong bathroom.”

  She shrugs and moves to stand next to the sink, facing me. “The women’s bathroom was disgusting. You don’t want to know what’s in those toilets. You’d think we’d be cleaner than men, but nope.”

  “You think this is clean?” I say, looking around at the mess.

  “Go into the women’s bathroom. I dare you.”

  I chuckle. “No thanks.”

  She pulls a travel size bottle of hand sanitizer out of the brown messenger bag that’s strung across her body, and squirts a generous amount in her hands.

  “I’ll use this since you seem to be clogging the sink,” she says with a smirk.

  “I didn’t clog it. It was already clogged.”

  “Okay,” she says with another grin. “You should get that cut covered. Looks nasty.” She moves in real close, looking at herself in the mirror. Her ash blonde hair is long, falling to the middle of her back. She grabs some lip gloss from her bag and applies it to her full lips. When her gaze meets mine in the reflection, she gives me a wink and then turns and walks out. Before she’s gone, she says, “Stop beating people up, dumbass.”

  I shake my head and let out a small laugh. It takes another few minutes to get the blood off and wait for the sink to drain. There’s two brown paper towels shoved behind the faucet, so I grab one and wrap it around my hand, holding the two ends in my fist. This will have to do for now.

  When I walk back outside, I see the girl from the bathroom leaning up against the side of the building, one foot on the ground and the other on the wall.

  “Hey,” she says, dropping her foot and walking towards me. “Catch.”

  She throws me a box, and I almost miss it as it goes flying above my head. “Nice throw,” I say sardonically. When I look at it, I notice it’s a box of Band-Aids. “Oh. Thanks.”

  “Yeah, you’re welcome. Smartass.”

  “You didn’t have to buy these. I’m a big boy, and it’s just a cut.”

  She twists her mouth up at me. “First of all, I didn’t buy them for you, so don’t go thinking I care that much. I already had them. I just decided to be nice. Second of all, you can be as big as you want, but that doesn’t stop you from bleeding.”

  I laugh and she scoffs, rolling her eyes. She’s feisty, and seems a little rough around the edges. She’s probably a street kid who’s used to being on her own. She doesn’t look that old. Probably nineteen or twenty.

  “You carry Band-Aids with you?” I ask.

  “Obviously. Now, hurry up and get one, because I want them back.”

  I take one from the box as I continue to watch her. She doesn’t look at me, though. Her eyes are everywhere but me. I take the few steps to hand it back to her, and she opens her bag, giving me a quick glimpse of what’s inside. She seems to notice her mistake and quickly snaps the flap shut, looking up at me with a death glare.

  “Interesting,” I say.

  “Whatever. I’m a young lady on my own. I need protection.”

  “I didn’t say anything. Thanks for the Band-Aid.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she says, turning on her heel and walking away. I don’t see her walking towards a car in the parking lot, so I don’t know where she’s going.

  “Hey, kid! You need a ride somewhere?”

  She turns around and walks backwards as she talks to me. “I’m not a kid, dick face, and I don’t trust men with blood on their hands.” She flips me off and smiles at me simultaneously.

  I shake my head as I climb back into my truck and put the Band-Aid on. A laugh bubbles up in my throat as I notice the pale blue color with pink and white cupcakes covering it.

  When I look up, the strange girl is gone.

  INSTEAD OF TURNING on route eighteen to head home, I continue up interstate two-fifteen, and drive around aimlessly. Different thoughts take up space in my head, consisting of what happened with Nick, his dad, Analeigh and her constant need to ask questions, therefore ruining what we had going on.

  The sex was good, we had a good time together, but she had to keep pushing, pissing me off with her need to find out who I am. I told her. I warned her I didn’t do the relationship shit, so why push? Why think it’s okay to compare our lives? Nobody’s the same and nobody reacts the same to situations. Even if she grew up the same exact way I did, that doesn’t mean she’d be like me. Perhaps it was already in my make-up. I am who I was always going to be. Who fucking knows why life turns out the way it does.

  Do serial killers and psychopaths need a reason to be the way they are? No. They’re just fucked up in some way. Sure, some of us get an extra push in that direction, thanks to how we were raised or some sort of traumatic events in our lives, maybe people do have mental disorders, but others make the conscious decision to be murderers. Whether it was due to events that happened in my life, or the fact that I was always going to be this way, I don’t know. But nothing will change me now.

  Beating the shit out of Nick’s dad let out some frustration, but I was too close to killing him. The monster—produced of darkness, twisted with vile thoughts, hungry for mayhem, and shaped like me—is once again rattling its cage. It wants out.

  Kathy is still out of town, Nick is tempting me with permission to kill his racist, abusive, prick of a father, and Analeigh is nowhere in sight, leaving me needing to find someone else to fuck. I need to release some energy. Maybe I’ll go for a run in the mountains near my home, because if I do nothing, if I stop holding that cage shut, the darkness will be released, and who knows who the victim could be? I want to have control over that, but only time will tell.

  I’ve turned around, getting off the interstate and heading towards the University, taking an alternate route to my house. Once on Northpark Boulevard, you start seeing groups of college kids walking around, probably off to go find a party in some dorm room, or perhaps they live in the apartments across the way.

  With my windows down, and my cruising speed a lot slower, I can hear girls laughing too loudly at some jock who probably didn’t even say anything that funny. A group of guys are loudly trying to get a group of girls’ attention who are walking in front of them. A couple stands on the corner in an embrace under the streetlight, the boy probably whispering promises of the future to her, not yet realizing that he’s going to break them.

  I continue on my way, having to stop several times for the students to run across the street. Right as I’m leaving the co-ed-filled roads, driving into a nice residential area, a lone girl runs out in front of my truck, causing me to have to slam on my brakes. She makes it to the median just fine, whipping her head back in my direction like she just realized what happened. Fucking kids on their phones are going to get themselves killed. I see the light of the phone go off as she places it down on top of some book she’s carrying.

  She tilts her head as if she’s trying to get a good look at me, but I can see her just fine thanks to the streetlights. It’s the girl from the gas station bathroom.

  “You trying to get yourself killed?” I yell through the open window.

  She pauses, taking a step closer. There aren’t any cars coming up behind me, so I stay in place in the middle of the road. “What?” she asks.

  I creep forward until I’m right next to her. I bend my arm, my elbow jutting out of the window as it rests along the frame. Leaning forward, I repeat
myself. “You trying to get yourself killed?”

  After a brief second, recognition hits her. “Hey,” she exclaims with a relieved smile, walking up to the door. “It’s you. Bloody hands guy.”

  My mouth twists at her nickname for me. “And it’s you. Cupcake.”

  She makes a face. “Cupcake? What?”

  I show her my hand and she starts cracking up. “Oh.” She laughs some more. “Sorry. Guess I was all out of firetrucks.”

  “Anyway, you need to be more careful. I almost killed you.”

  “Then you would have had the blood of two people on your hands today,” she replies with a mischievous smirk.

  “Right. And that’s not what I need.”

  “What’re you doing out here, lurking around the college, anyway?” she asks. “You don’t look like you go to school here.”

  “I don’t. I’m on my way home.”

  “You live around here?” she asks, her eyes lighting up.

  “Not that close.”

  She presses a button on her phone. “It’s only nine o’clock. You’re heading home? How old are you?” she says, making a face.

  I huff. “I’m not old, I’m just not a college kid who roams the streets, looking for trouble to get into.”

  She glares at me. “I told you I’m not a kid. And I’m not looking for trouble. I’m just looking for fun. Whaddaya say?” she says, turning her glare into a cheeky grin.

  “What?” I ask, confused. “I’m not the kind of fun you’re looking for. I’m not fun at all, actually. I’m old, remember?”

  She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “I can make you fun,” she flirts.

  I narrow my eyes at her. “How old are you?”

  “Old enough,” she counters.

  “I don’t like that answer,” I say, settling back into my truck, ready to drive off.

  “Wait, wait,” she says, putting her hand on the window frame. “If you’re gonna be a baby about it, geez. If I’m at college, I’m clearly at least eighteen. Which is legal, by the way.”

  “Eighteen is too young. Legal or not.”

  “Well, lucky for you, I’m not eighteen. I’m twenty. I’ll be twenty-one next month.”

  “Hmm,” I murmur. “Good for you.”

  “And you?” she asks, leaning in closer through the window with a flirtatious smile gracing her lips.

  “Twenty-four.”

  “See. That’s perfect! We can have fun together.”

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask. “You were flying across the street like the cops were after you.”

  She laughs. “Well, if they were, wouldn’t you want to help me escape them? We’ve been in the road for five minutes. They could be coming any minute now,” she says, playfully widening her eyes in a panic.

  “I don’t need to be an accessory to anything, so no, I wouldn’t help.”

  “You’re no fun,” she says with a pout.

  “I told you.”

  “Come on,” she whines. “Take me somewhere.” She leans in and I find myself leaning closer to her. Her brown eyes watch mine, waiting for me to object, but I don’t. I feel her lips touch my neck, but barely. She’s just brushing them against my skin, and then she whispers into my ear. “Take me somewhere and you can take me however you like.” Her voice drops to a husky whisper and my cock responds. She licks and kisses my neck, her free hand running across my stomach and towards my jeans. “Don’t make me beg,” she breathes into my ear. Her hand cups my cock through my jeans, and she moans.

  “Get in,” I growl.

  She hurries around to the passenger side and climbs in, throwing her book and messenger bag to the floor board before scooting next to me. I drive off, needing to find somewhere to pull over, because I’m not taking her to my house, and I don’t feel like looking for a hotel room right now. Whatever we do will be in my truck, but I don’t think she’ll mind since she’s unbuttoning my jeans.

  “I want to taste you,” she says seductively. “Can I?” she asks, unzipping my zipper like she already knows I’m not going to stop her.

  I lift up, helping her pull my jeans down a little, and then she sticks her hand inside of my boxer-briefs, pulling my hard cock out through the slit in the front. She strokes it a few times, before lying across the seat and putting the tip in her mouth.

  “Fuck,” I groan, trying to concentrate on driving and getting us to a spot where I can park and not be disturbed.

  “Mmm,” she moans around me, taking me deeper.

  I pass a for sale sign and turn off onto a side street, hoping to find the empty house. When I do, I pull into the driveway and cut off the engine, hoping the neighbors don’t look out their windows and get suspicious.

  She releases my cock from her grip and sits up to start pulling her clothes off. First she removes the black V-neck shirt and then shimmies out of her tight, blue jeans and white panties. I slide over, away from the steering wheel, and remove my shoes, jeans, and underwear as fast as possible.

  “I don’t have a condom,” I manage to say as she begins to climb onto my lap.

  She reaches down to her bag and pulls a shiny square of foil out, holding it up with a grin on her face.

  “You have everything you need in there?” I ask, lifting a brow as she rips it open and pulls the colored condom out.

  “Mmhhmm,” she murmurs, placing it on my head and rolling it down over my shaft. I groan and throw my head back as she strokes me.

  This mysterious girl, whose name I still don’t know, proceeds to climb on top of me, taking my cock in her hand and guiding it into her tight pussy.

  “Mmm,” she moans. “Oh, god,” she continues, moving up and down on my shaft.

  I grab ahold of her hips, watching her tits bounce in my face. She never took off her bra, so I reach up and pull the material down, taking her nipple in my mouth while my hand squeezes the other. A sexy, high-pitched moan escapes her mouth as she continues to grind herself on me.

  When her movements change, shifting from up and down to back and forth, I let my hands move around to her ass. Her skin is soft against my rough hands as I let them move up her back until I get to her long hair. I pull on the blonde strands, exposing her neck to me and then I suck the flesh into my mouth before giving her a small bite.

  A surprised gasp leaves her lips, but then she pulls my head in closer, like she doesn’t want me to stop. So I don’t. I continue to suck and bite on her neck, and her movements quicken, looking for a release.

  “Yeah. Oh yeah,” she pants. “You feel so good. Fuck, you’re so deep.”

  I move my hands to her hips, helping her slam herself down on my cock over and over, harder and harder, deeper and deeper.

  “You like that?” I ask, even though I don’t have to. Her noises tell me everything I need to know.

  “Yes. Fuck yes. Oh god.”

  My hand goes to her throat, gripping it lightly. I feel her swallow, but she doesn’t smack my hand away. Instead, her own hands are all over me—in my hair, on my shoulders, squeezing my chest.

  I use my other hand to touch her ass again, this time smacking it as it bounces with her movements. She and I both groan at the same time, but hers stretches out, turning into a mix of moans and squeals.

  “You gonna come for me?” I ask, knowing she’s close.

  She nods, gripping onto the seat behind me and moving faster. “Yes, I’m gonna . . . oh, god. I’m . . . I’m . . .”

  “Mm, yeah,” I groan, loving the look of ecstasy cross her face as I feel her wetness pool between us. I tighten my hand around her throat as I suck her nipple into my mouth, grazing my teeth over the hardened tip.

  “Ah!” she screams, the guttural sound filling the cab. “Fuck,” she breathes, slowing down, her body spasming, and her pussy tightening around my cock.

  She flips all of her hair to the side and out of the way, grinding herself on me a few more times as she comes down from her orgasm. “I want you to come in my mouth,” she says huskily, her
lips moving along my cheek, and her tongue darting out and licking a path on my neck before she sucks my earlobe in between her lips. “Let me taste you.”

  Who I am I to deny her what she wants?

  She lifts off of me, removes the soaked condom, and takes me in her mouth. My hand goes to her hair gripping it in a makeshift ponytail so I can watch her devour me. And that’s exactly what she does. My cock disappears between her lips, traveling to the back of her throat. She strokes me expertly with both hands, taking me right to the edge.

  “That’s it,” I groan.

  Her movements never slow down, stroking and sucking me like a goddamn pro. My muscles tighten, and I grip the edge of the seat with one hand as I prepare myself to shoot my come down her throat.

  “I’m about to come,” I say through harsh breaths. “Swallow me.”

  She moans in pleasure as my come shoots out and into her mouth. I can’t help the loud growl that comes from the back of my throat as she licks and sucks up every last drop.

  After cleaning me up, she sits back and wipes her mouth, giving me a grin. I continue to try to catch my breath before grabbing my clothes and putting them back on. I leave the pants undone and slide back over to the driver’s side, giving her more space to put her own clothes back on.

  I start the car to get the air on, because not only is it hot as hell, but the windows are foggy as fuck. “Guess it’s no secret as to what’s going on in here,” I say, watching her swipe her finger across the window.

  “Too bad,” she says. “I like secrets.”

  “Hmm,” I respond, giving her a look.

  Police sirens blare loudly from behind us, and red and blue lights shine brightly in my rearview. She looks at me with wide eyes. “Told you they were looking for me.”

  “WHAT THE FUCK?”

  I look behind us, watching and listening to the cops fly by down the street. They’re driving down the road we pulled off of when we came down this cul-de-sac. I hear her laugh, so I turn to look at her and watch as her eyes take in the scene behind us.