by J. L. Beck
“Killer. Jaxon.” Gauge said our names with authority in his voice. Gauge was whom you could consider to be the President of the escapees. He was still in touch with his humanity for the most part. I had yet to see a time when he truly lost his shit.
“Gauge,” I greeted him, my voice gruff. I needed to fuck or spill blood. Something. Blood spilling quenched the thirst of the slaughterer I had become, and since fucking was an opportunity that wasn’t given to us often, spilling blood was my favorite.
Women shied away from us, and those who did want in on the sex couldn’t handle it. We were savages in everything that we did. Fucking and fighting were our best outlets for anger. Both always ended in blood.
“You look like a bear that’s been poked one too many times,” Gauge joked. I didn’t smile. Hell, I didn’t find it even remotely fucking funny.
“Want to hear a joke?” Her voice entered my mind as a flash of a memory hit me. My fists clenched as I gripped at the bed sheet. The muscles in my stomach clenched as I forced myself to hold onto to every second of it.
She had brown hair that flowed down her back freely. Big brown eyes that sparkled as she smiled at something I had said. She was saying something to me, her mouth moving, but I was unable to hear it... She was fading out…
“Killer.” Gauge’s voice was the first I heard, and it only made my anger worse. Who was she, and why the fuck did I have memories of a life I didn’t remember living?
“Get the fuck away from me,” I growled. I was on the verge of ripping the whole fucking room apart. My body was shaking as I shot out of bed.
“Killer. Stop. Calm down.” Gauge’s voice rang in my ears, but his words meant nothing to me. It was as if my mind and body weren’t connected. I wouldn’t be able to stop the destruction I would cause until I found answers. I needed them. So fucking badly.
Blood. Bathe in the blood of your enemies, the little voice in my head said. I smiled like the devil at the mere thought of killing—slaughtering.
I made my way up from the fourth floor climbing all four flights of stairs without a single bead of sweat forming. I was made this way. I was made to be indestructible.
Finding the nearest exit, I pushed out into the open alleyway that sat next to the building. It was time to hunt. To prey upon those who deserved it most. A piece of who I was, the one who clung to my humanity, the one who held onto the memory of that girl—disappeared. In its place was a man who would kill without even a thought. When I looked at the world through these eyes, I saw mass chaos and the need to rectify, to deliver my revenge. There was no mercy, compassion, or caring.
There was only death, revenge, and blood.
With my heart beating out of my chest, I lifted my nose into the air, searching for my next kill. In a city like this, rapist, criminals, and other disgusting beings, I could find my next kill without any effort.
I scoured the alleyways until I stumbled upon a man cornering a woman. Her shrill cries could be heard from a block over, yet everyone continued to pass by ignoring the problem. That was the issue with these people. They didn’t care about those who were being preyed upon. They just kept going on, minding their own business, acting as if they hadn’t even seen it. That’s how they were raised—to turn a blind eye to those being hurt.
A growl escaped my throat as the man who held the woman against the wall turned toward me.
“Want to join?” he asked, his hand slipping under her shirt. Tears had started streaming down the woman’s face, her lips swollen, and one of her eyes black.
“Yes,” I said with an animalistic sound now present in my voice. My body pleaded with me to snatch him up by the throat. To crush his windpipe, to make him beg for his next breath. His smile grew bigger in the dim lighting. He thought I wanted to join him in the raping of the woman he had taken captive. The very woman he was beating on.
“Roger, stop. Please stop.” Another memory hit me. The same girl crying and pleading with someone to stop. What were they doing to her?
Rage consumed me as I pushed the memory away and crossed the alleyway a second later. I gripped the man by his jacket pulling him into my face as the woman slumped against the building.
Then my hands were around his throat. My teeth were clenched like the beast I was as I squeezed with all my might. I had no need to punch or to kick. I had learned cutting off air supply was the best way to go. Fewer marks, less screaming, and it gave them a chance to stare into my eyes as I watched the life leave their body.
The man’s eyes bulged out as I squeezed tighter and tighter. I could hear the shattering of bones and feel the pulsing of blood through his still beating heart. My muscles burned as heat bloomed in my veins stirring the fiery beast within.
I closed my eyes as I felt his skin breaking. I felt his blood marring my hands, the warmth of his death radiated through me causing a europium of emotions to form. As I released his lifeless body to the ground, I focused on my breathing… rubbing the blood of my enemy into my hands.
The shallow cries of the woman could be heard in the back of my mind, but I hesitated. Making sure she was okay wasn’t something I should do. I was a monster. I could kill her. One kill was never enough. Never. I could feel it already, the need to deprive someone of life filling me to the brim. I needed to get away from this woman, and I needed to do it now before she became my next victim.
As I took my first step away from the woman, a voice entered my mind cutting off all movement.
“You’re so smart, Diesel.”
“Stop,” I screamed, my hands clawing at my head. I wanted to rip the memories from my mind. To throw them away. I was paralyzed, a victim to my own memories, my own body.
“Are you flirting with me?” She smiled as I placed my hand on hers. Her brown eyes were so warm and vibrant.
“Stop. I can’t take it anymore.” I fell to my knees. The strongest most-indestructible man on the planet had one singular weakness that he wasn’t even aware of, someone he had no name for—just mere memories of his life.
Either I was going crazy, having been dosed one too many times or I was starting to remember small glimpses of my life before I became the man I am now. All I knew was that neither one was good for me. Remembering my previous life had the chance of pulling me into a deeper, darker world. Not remembering would drive me insane. I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t.
“Killer, stand in your cell or I’ll have to send someone in who will make you.” I gritted my teeth. I would love to see them try. Rage stirred inside of me, the idea of getting my hands on them again. I loved the feel of their bones breaking, the rage that would consume me at that moment.
“5…” He was counting down to his own death.
“4…” He had no idea what I wanted to do to him, but he was going to find out soon.
“3…” I cracked my knuckles and waited for them to enter…
“2… Back up…” His voice was shallow, almost not meeting my ears. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, and a smile pulled at my lips.
“1…” The doors to my cell opened and in they walked with their tranquilizers and doping drugs. I had lashed out before they got the chance to touch me, swiping my hand across the chest of the man who was closest to me as I dug my fingers into his flesh. Blood sprayed from his wound, splattering against the wall and other men with him. I felt nothing for killing him. He would be replaced tomorrow by someone just as dumb as he was.
“Killer…” I could hear someone yelling just as a dart hit me square in the chest. I smiled knowing I, at the very least, had gotten my point across.
four
MAGGIE
TODAY WAS YET another bad day. Roger had ended up beating the shit out of Diesel in gym class, and somehow, I had known something was wrong once he didn’t show up to class. I excused myself to the restroom but headed straight to the boys locker room. There he stood leaning against the far wall of the bathroom his arms clenching his midsection. His eyes grew large as he took me in.<
br />
“You shouldn’t be in here, Maggie.” His voice was weak, he was sweating profusely, and he looked more exhausted than I had ever seen him.
“You didn’t show up to American Lit, so I assumed something was wrong. Looks like I was right.” I tried to keep my tone out of the smart-ass area, but it didn’t work. From the look on his face, he didn’t seem to find it funny either.
“I don’t need your help. How many fucking times do I have to tell you that?” He was as livid as he was most times I came running to his rescue. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you what it was that made me come back for more. Every time I helped him, it was like being stung by a bee. Every time I stuck my fingers into the warm honey, I would get stung. Eventually, the pain subsided and didn’t feel nearly as bad as going without the honey. I guess I looked at Diesel like that.
“Looks like you’re going to have to tell me one more time because I didn’t hear it the last thousand other times,” I joked, walking over to him. He stared at me a darkness settling into his eyes. This was the part where he would try to threaten me. Try to convince me how being friends was a weakness he couldn’t afford and if I didn’t stop, he would hurt me.
It was always a lie. I could call his bluff by now. Sometimes, I would think the tumor was finally getting to him, that he was actually losing parts of his mind only because he would tell me the same thing every single time I did something for him.
“Don’t,” he growled as I reached a hand out to steady him. His clothes clung to his sweaty body as a groan sounded from deep within his chest.
“Just let me help you,” I said ignoring his shoves. He was weaker than I was—that much I knew.
“I said no,” he yelled, his voice hurting my ears. His hand reached out and grabbed my arm gripping it in a manner that would’ve scared me—should’ve scared me.
“I said yes.” I gritted my teeth gripping him under the arm as I lead him to the bench. His grip on my arm slacked as I sat him down, his head leaning back against the tiled wall.
“Go back to class, Maggie. We go through this every fucking day. Every. Fucking. Day. You tell me I need you, I tell you I don’t. When are you going to understand this infatuation you have with me is going to get you hurt?”
Infatuation? What was he talking about?
“Infatuation? Are you kidding me? I help you because it’s the right thing to do and because regardless of how the others treat you, I know you deserve more than just to be picked on and beaten. I mean, look at you now…”
“Fucking Christ, Mags, just leave. Leave while you still can. I’m dying. Hell, I should already be dead. I’m losing my mind, my memories, and my thoughts every single day. Every breath I take, every morning I wake up, I’m that much closer to death. So please cut the shit and walk away. It’s been years, and I’m barely hanging on by a thread. A fucking thread, Maggie. A. THREAD!!!” he bellowed. His face was red in frustration as I took a step away from him, my back hitting the lockers. I had seen him angry. I had seen him cry, but I had never seen his hate turned on me.
“I just wanted to help you,” I mumbled. It was the plan the whole time—to be a friend to him when he needed one most.
“Don’t. Stop helping. Stop caring. Stop it all. Because if you don’t stop, I will force you to stop.” He stood, breathing heavily.
I wasn’t sure I could handle a day without Diesel. Maybe that was the problem he was getting at. I was using helping him as an excuse to hide the fact I was already attached to him. He never wanted me to get attached to him because you can’t attach yourself to death. He wasn’t trying to hurt me. He was trying to protect me.
I jolted awake, a sheen of sweat covering me. Fuck, another memory. Another nightmare. I felt as if I would be plagued by them for the rest of my life. As if not knowing what happened to him was my own personal hell.
He died, Maggie. He fucking died, and there was nothing you or anyone else could do.
Tears threatened to spring from my eyes. I loved Diesel with every piece of myself. I just wish I would have been strong enough to tell him how I felt much sooner than I did. That way, we could have spent more time loving one another, showing each other in every aspect how deep that love ran. Suddenly, my cell phone started to ring. My mind was a boggled mess as I searched the bedsheets for it.
My hand landed on it as I pulled it out from under my pillow. Kandace. Fudge sickles. I hit the answer key and waited for the bitching to ensue.
“Don’t tell me you were taking a nap…” she yelled into the phone.
“I…”
“Actually, you better have been taking a nap. You’re pulling an all-nighter.” She interrupted me not even giving me a chance to speak.
“Thanks for telling me what I’m doing tonight,” I said in a smartass tone.
“No problem. You best be ready in T-minus thirty minutes. I will be at your apartment to pick you up then.” Thirty minutes? She had to be kidding.
“Really, I just wanted to stay in and—”
“Read a fucking book. I know, I know.” She finished my sentence for me. I needed to come up with better excuses.
“Whatever. I’ll be ready,” I said giving up. There wasn’t any point. I had no other excuses. It was time for me to socialize a bit, to step out of my comfort zone.
“Good,” was all she said before hanging up on me. I slithered from my bed and walked to the bathroom, pulling on a pair of skinny jeans along the way. It was only eight. I had slept for three hours… crashing the moment I had walked into my loft apartment.
Finding a sparkly blouse, I slipped it on and then pulled my black boots on. I tamed my dark brown hair by putting it in a braid and applied a small amount of makeup. My brown eyes reflected back at me, and I felt as if I didn’t know myself.
The more and more I thought about what had happened with Roger, and what Kandace had said, the more it dawned on me that maybe I wasn’t really doing the right thing. There were other ways to help find a cure for something. You didn’t have to go into a highly secretive corporation, get into their labs, and find out what it was they were doing that no one else was.
Was it actually worth it to endanger my life, my future of getting an answer for something like this? Then again, what were they hiding? People didn’t just threaten others without an intention of protecting something.
A pounding sounded on the door just as I walked from the bathroom to the nightstand to grab my phone. Wow, for the first time ever, Kandace is early. Walking to the door, I pulled it open.
Kandace stood before me decked out in one of the sexiest outfits I had ever seen her wear. Her blonde hair was curled in banana curls, long ringlets falling down her back. She was wearing a black corsage top with red lace embodied through it. Paired with it were a denim mini skirt and a pair of killer black heels. She looked far from the clubbing kind of gal.
“Are you done judging me?” She smirked, her voice holding a tone of amusement. It astonished me how I had become such good friends with her. We were polar opposites in every single way.
“Never. You’re going to hell just for wearing that little piece of clothing right there,” I joked pointing at her top. Her tits were all but falling out of the top. Yeah, she was getting lucky tonight.
“As long as there are hot as fuck men there, I’m okay with it.” She smirked.
“Oh, they’ll be something hot there. I don’t know that it’ll be men though.” I giggled. I felt like I had already had an entire bottle of liquor. It had to be the nap.
“Well, you act like you’re getting summoned to heaven, child. Do you ever show your body off?” She was teasing me in a bitch kind of way. It didn’t matter to me what Kandace thought. I would wear whatever I wanted, how I wanted.
“Yes, Sister Kandace. Now, let’s get the hell out of here.” I ushered her out the door grabbing all my shit along the way. Tonight was going to be stellar. All I had to do was push the thoughts of him to the back of my mind.
***
Music b
lasted from the speakers of the club so hard I could feel the beat of the music in my bones. Strobe lights covered the dance floor in every color imaginable as we made our way over to the bar. My eyes caught on everything in the dim lighting. It was as if I was under a spell. I had been missing a lot.
“What do you want to drink?” Kandace yelled into my ear over the music. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to drink. I hadn’t been out drinking in a long ass time. The closest I got to enjoying alcohol was a glass of wine every now and then, and this place—yeah, it didn’t look like it served wine.
Instead, I shrugged my shoulders unsure of what to get. As I gazed around the room at all the people dancing and talking, I forgot about my drink.
“Here, slut.” Kandace shoved a glass into my hands. It looked like murky ocean water, and I was unsure if I even wanted to bring my nose near it let alone my lips.
“What the hell is this?” I asked still looking at the glass sideways.
“It’s called LA Water. Some of the bitches at the end of the bar were drinking it. I didn’t know what to get you so I just went with it.” She shrugged taking a sip from her glass, which looked somewhat appetizing.
I brought my nose to the edge of the glass to smell it. The aroma of liquor and sweet fruit hit my nostrils. She had to be fucking crazy if she thought I would drink this. You could smell the hangover on this thing.
“What are you drinking?” I questioned. Hers looked like a frozen margarita but better. I wondered if she would trade beverages with me.
“Mine is called a Cocksucker in honor of all the assholes I have to deal with at work.” She smiled around the straw in her mouth, and once she took notice of my not so drunk state, her look turned to a glare.
“Drink, Mags. It’s not that bad. If those bitches can handle it, then you know you can. I’ve seen you sling back whiskey shots… It’s not that bad.” I wanted to laugh. She was right. Back in the day, we had gotten into my parents alcohol, and eventually, I became one of the most notorious shot drinkers in high school.
