by Aven Jayce
... it’s because he hasn’t gotten his pecker sucked in years. He’ll come off this high soon enough... yo, why don’t you stay here tonight. Screw going back to your dad’s. We’ll lure Quinn out with the beer I brought. Get him to worship us like old times.
“I knew that was coming... Trent’s such an ass.” He sits up with a loud exhale, slipping his fingertips down my body. “My brother doesn’t care if people watch him fuck, but I sure as hell do. I know they’re gonna open your tent and see us. I hate that shit. And they’re gonna haul me out of here soon enough, two against one. I don’t want it to happen when I’m inside you.”
“It’s alright. I don’t want to talk to them, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. We’ll hang out later or tomorrow.”
He looks at his erection, trying to tuck it away. “When it’s dark, I’ll take you up the trail a ways, into the woods where no one’s around. We’ll fuck so hard when we get there.”
I shift closer to him, moving his dick through the slit in his boxers. My tongue glides up his length, circling his engorged, red crown before taking him deep to the back of my throat. I suck as I pull out, my play triggering an erotic moan in approval.
“My cock can’t wait to be in you.”
He lifts my chin, an expression of power and control in his eyes as he teases a slow response...
“You’re in so much trouble.”
Chapter Ten
ADRIFT
“GET THE FUCK OFF ME. GET OFF!”
The whiskey bottle rolls out of my hand. It’s pitch-black... I think Quinn’s sleeping bag’s on top of me... I must’ve passed out...
“Fucking bastards.”
“Quinn?” I search for my flashlight, the pepper spray, the knife, anything. It’s too dark. What the hell’s happening?
“Get your little punk ass brother off me.”
I sit up and touch my body. I’m still dressed and the knife’s in my pocket... fuck, dizzy...
“You son of a bitch.”
Flesh strikes flesh. People whisper in nearby shelters. I hear rustling. A quarrel. A fistfight.
“I can’t believe you fuckers used my cash for a whore. Get her out of here!”
I stagger outside in my bare feet, following the voices of Quinn and Trent to the riverbank.
“Trent!”
That’s Dylan.
I can see them now. Trent’s hands are around Quinn’s neck and Dylan’s pounding on Trent’s back to get him to stop.
“Get back. Let me fight this little dipshit.”
Trent releases his grip once Dylan stumbles a few feet away from them... they’re batshit crazy... and now that I’m closer, I can see a big nasty-looking woman’s here too... topless, holding a beer, not at all surprised by the scene.
Quinn takes a quick swing, sending Trent to the ground in a thud. He gets back up and they wrestle to take each other down.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. My hands shake, blood’s pumping, my pulse is in a frantic pace...
Dylan rubs his chin with an open mouth as he watches them roll along the edge of the river. He steps forward and clutches the back of Trent’s neck, pulling him off.
“Let’s finish the fuck. We’re gonna get charged for an extra hour, man.”
Quinn gets up and races toward Dylan, attacking him with all his might. He knocks him across the jaw and pushes him back, trying to get him to fight.
“When you gonna grow up, Dylan? Huh? Both of you. You’re messing with me again. I’m tired of all this shit.”
“Bro, don’t act like such a douche. We’ll share her.”
Quinn swings, but his hand’s caught by Trent. Their faces are lit by the moon—blood trickles from noses, bodies are covered in mud, and shoes sink in the soil as the river behind them rises from the stormy day.
“I’m outta here,” the woman says, looking around for her shirt.
“To hell you are, bitch. Don’t even think about it.”
“Shut up down there,” someone yells from the woods.
We’re all drunk, them more than me, though Trent’s the worst. I take a step back, frightened by the vibe he gives off.
“You filthy goddamn whore. Don’t you dare cover those tits!”
“Bite me, motherfucker. I’m calling Rafe. He’s gonna kick your ass when he finds out you’ve treated one of his girls like shit. Now, gimme the rest of my money.”
She holds out her hand, tapping her foot in the mud as Quinn staggers forward and takes another swing at Trent.
“If you’re not paying me, you’re fucked,” she says.
Trent flies into a rage, shoving Quinn toward the Hudson until he’s teetering on the edge—one leg’s raised and his arms spin like a windmill as he tries to keep his balance.
“Don’t!” Dylan shouts.
It’s too late. Trent swings and knocks him into the water.
“Drop it.” He runs toward the woman, knocking the cell out of her hand.
He drags her by her hair to the edge and she’s next to go in, her screams ceasing when she sinks next to Quinn.
“Bro, swim... get to the edge!”
“Fuck!” He bobs, the current carrying him away from our sight.
“Quinn!” I run to the bank.
“Swim against it,” Dylan shouts.
Trent picks up her cell, whipping it into the water.
“Get her off,” Quinn yells.
“Don’t panic. Swim, buddy.”
“She’s...” His head vanishes under water.
“Do something,” I beg. “Go get him or call the police. Call someone for help!”
“No!” Trent roars.
“What’s going on down there?” a voice shouts from the trees.
Yelling, rage, and fast moving water ... my head’s spinning.
Quinn surfaces with a gasp, struggling to stay above water.
“Get her off me. She’s drowning me,” he hollers. “Dylan...” He goes under, his arms fighting the current, straining to get to the edge. “Dylan!”
His brother does nothing. I can’t believe he’s not helping.
“Go in and get him,” I plead. “Please! He’s gonna drown!”
“I can’t swim.” Dylan rushes past, following Quinn down the river.
“You get him, bitch.”
Trent picks me up, my legs and arms thrashing to get away.
“No. Don’t! Don’t—”
I’m thrown in, immediately jerked by an undercurrent and taken down the river. I kick, kick, kick, and kick, reaching the surface with all my might.
“Quinn!” I shout.
“Addie!”
I see his head for a split second, my body twirled in the cold water. He rises and falls... the woman’s arms are wrapped around his neck. She’s forcing him down, sinking him into a watery grave.
I kick faster, harder, advancing swiftly as he wheezes and huffs, trying to pry her arms away. He’s working against the flow, aiming for me while I’m headed straight for him.
“Addie!” He grabs my shirt, my arm, my waist... his hands frantically clutching every part of my body. I take deep breaths, straining to connect to him, kicking at her to let go.
“Hold onto me,” he yells. The three of us go under and her fingernails dig into my back, causing me to lose my grip and become separated from Quinn.
He shouts my name as she pushes me down. She’s trying to crawl onto my shoulders. I’m sinking. I can’t get up. I can’t see. I can’t fucking see the surface.
Her weight overpowers me. There’s no way I can fight her off. I swing my arms, but they’re slowed with the resistance of the water. I can’t punch. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe!
I grab the knife from my pocket, trying to open it in the dark, not wanting to drop it. It’s my only chance to survive.
“Mmm-mm-mm!” My lungs are squeezing tighter. God, I don’t want to die!
The blade flips open and I thrust upward, ne
eding air, needing air now! I power into her, awakened when the blade pierces her flesh. I stab again. My hand warm... her blood... fuck, I feel her blood.
I’m free... kick. Get air. Kick!
I break the surface taking mammoth rattled breaths.
“No—”
She’s clawing at my jeans, climbing up my body.
We’re terrified, both of us battling to be the one who survives.
I no longer know up from down. My lungs are crushing... I’m descending into a murky tomb. Jesus, she’s gonna kill me. I’m gonna die... I’m gonna die...
I clasp the handle of the knife—there’s no rationalization, no thought or planning to what I’m about to do—I just do it.
My arm lowers and the blade pierces the top of her head.
The freedom’s instant.
The handle slips away while the last of my adrenaline’s used to rocket upward until I can see the moon. A breath! I can breathe!
“Addie!”
“Quinn!”
I’m hauled into a rapid embrace, held so close that I know he’s never letting go. Never. I’m his.
Thank you. Thank you, God.
“Stay with me.” He pants. “Kick if you can. Work your legs toward the bank. I’m here. I’m here... you’re safe. Keep kicking.”
I start to cry. My chest spasms and my body trembles.
“Quinn...”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re almost there.”
Large hands lock onto my shoulders, hoisting me out of the river. I land on my back in labored breaths, coughing and straining for air.
Quinn collapses next to me, his chest heaving, legs in constant movement, unable to stop fighting to survive.
“Fuck.” He exhales. “Fuck you, Dylan. Fuck you.”
“I pulled you out, didn’t I?”
“Get away... get the hell away from us. I mean it.”
“I-I killed...” I cry harder, turning on my side. “I killed her.”
“What?” Quinn says.
“What the fuck do you mean you killed her?” Trent asks.
Quinn stands, pushing Trent away from me. “You fucker. That woman drowned because of you. Her pimp’s gonna come looking for her, then we’re all dead!”
“I killed her. I’m s-s-sorry. I’m so sorry.” I cover my face and cry.
“No, Trent did. He killed her. He threw her in. Don’t take the blame for this.”
“I stabbed her. The blade went in her head!”
“What?” He kneels next to me, trying to pry my hands from my face. “Look at me... what happened?”
“It w-was the only way to get free.”
“Oh shit,” Dylan says. “Where’s the knife?”
“Addie?” He picks me up, walking along the river toward the camp. “I’m taking you home. You need to get out of here.”
“I killed her.”
“You can’t be down here if the cops show up or if the pimp comes looking for her.”
“Where the fuck’s the knife?” Dylan repeats.
“In... it’s stuck in her.”
Quinn stops, turning back to Trent with the fiercest expression I’ve ever seen.
“You ruined us. You destroyed all of our lives!”
“No, your bitch did. It would’ve been an accident. A drowning. But now, it’s murder. That’s her fault, not mine.”
My face twists in guilt and sadness, suffocating from tears as he sets me on the muddy ground. His walk is steady and deliberate, in a straight line toward Trent.
“Don’t even think about—”
Trent’s punched before he can finish his sentence—his jaw, nose, eyes, all clobbered. Dylan crosses his arms, spitting on the ground and walking around them to find the best view.
“I think he’s had enough, Quinn. You’re gonna bust up your hands.”
“Shut up.” He leans back, wiping his face with his forearm. “I hate both of you. Don’t follow me. Don’t come looking for me.”
“That’s bullshit, bro. Go get laid, you’ll feel better.”
Trent moans, slowly rising after Quinn moves away and heads for his brother. He stops directly in front of him, his fists clenched and nostrils flaring.
“She’s dead. She’s fucking dead, Dylan.”
“I didn’t do it.” He shrugs.
“Did you call? Did she have your name?”
“Trent called.”
“I tossed her cell. Her pimp will never find it.”
“The cops will. And the pimp will know without her cell. He fucking knows,” Quinn fumes. “It’s my fucking knife.”
“This isn’t on you, man. And no one can trace that cheap knife.”
“It is on me. It’s on fucking all of us. And your dickhead friend tried to kill us!”
“No way. I was just messing around. It’s your fault for trying to take our pussy money away.”
“That was my cash.” He turns to Dylan. “I didn’t work for you to buy a whore.”
“For Christ’s sake, you sound like a woman.”
“Addie, get back to the tent. Start packing.” Quinn points toward the woods.
“No. I’m not going home. Not all wet. Not crying. Not this upset! My aunt and uncle will freak. They’ll know something’s wrong.” My voice cracks as I continue to sob.
“It doesn’t matter. We need to leave. We can’t stay here.”
I’m weak from fighting the woman and the river. Moving’s impossible, even to the tent. I can’t think... my legs are numb... my head hurts.
He picks me up, cradling me against his chest as he carries me to the woods, his shoes squishing with each step. I lean into his wet shirt, smelling beer on his breath and blood on his flesh.
“I’m sorry,” I whimper. “I’m so sorry.”
“Get your shoes on and let’s get the fuck out of here. Stay with me. Stay strong, okay?” He sways as he walks and my stomach churns, both of us still drunk.
“No fucking cops,” a voice says from the woods. “Get away from us. Pack your shit and leave!”
“We’re heading out!” Quinn yells.
“Are they calling the cops?”
“Doubt it. No one wants ‘em down here. But just in case, we gotta move.”
I wiggle free when I see my tent, stumbling to pack up. People are already dismantling their sites, in a hurry to get away from the area.
“Make sure you don’t forget anything. Use your flashlight to check.”
“Okay.” I wipe my tears so I can see.
Trent walks past us, ripping his tarp away from a tree and kicking it into the woods. He lights a cigarette and narrows his eyes, taking a deep drag while his head tilts toward the night sky. His left eye’s barely open and his lip’s split.
“The cops won’t have a problem bringing us in with our faces looking like this. Ain’t that right, fuckhead? Breaking my face is the same as putting a bulls-eye on my chest. How we gonna blend in on the streets?”
“It’s not my problem. Pack your shit, Trent. Move out.”
Dylan pats him on the back. “I’ll be at Dad’s if you need me. Where you headed?”
He pays no attention, stuffing his clothes into his backpack.
“You ignoring me?”
No response.
“Here.” He drops a pile of cash at his feet. “Stay safe... Trent, what about you?”
“Tivoli... or wherever. Then to my cousin’s tomorrow, maybe.”
“Faster, Addie,” Quinn says. “We need to roll. Pack as fast as you can.”
My hands are shaking so violently that I’m having a hard time folding the tent. I give up and cram it into the bag, punching it to get it to fit, realizing I’ve got his sleeping bag wrapped inside.
All I want to do is cry, just fall over and cry... but I keep going. My body’s drained... but I keep going.
“Is that everything?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure
?”
“Yeah.”
He sets a bag over each shoulder and grabs my hand. I’m hurried through the dark woods, each of us carrying a tent, on alert to every movement and sound.
“Hey, Quinn! Don’t lose control, man. You’ll end up dead... and take that bitch home.”
My fingers are numb from his firm grip, but he refuses to let me go.
“If we pass anyone on the trail, latch onto to me, act like we’re in love.”
“But—”
“And if anyone stops us, let me do all the talking. Go with whatever I say.”
“But your face.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make up a story. And if you see a cop, don’t run. That’ll be your first instinct, don’t do it. Stay calm.”
“I—”
“It’s been two hours since they called that woman. Too long. Too fucking long for her not to check in with her pimp. They only paid for an hour. He’s gonna come looking for her. Someone will come looking.”
“Where are we going?”
“To clean up.”
“The shelter?”
“No. Not this time of the night. Not all bloody and drunk.”
We reach the trail and walk toward the city. The people ahead of us lugging their bags on their shoulders and their homes in their arms—all of their possessions uprooted and transferred to another land in a matter of minutes.
“Where?”
“I don’t know where.” He inhales sharply, glancing over his shoulder.
More people emerge from the woods, cursing at the disruption, confused by who caused it and unaware of all the details. I wipe my eyes and lower my head, trying to keep up with Quinn’s brisk pace. My jeans are waterlogged, making it difficult to walk. The only dry things on my body are my sneakers.
“It’s gonna be okay.”
“She... I couldn’t—”
“I know... she was big. She was taking me down too.”
“Phweeet-phweet-phweet.”
We turn, hearing Dylan whistle as he points that he’s heading off the trail with Trent.
