by Liz K. Lorde
I’d seen kids break their arms and their feet and their legs and God only knows what else. They never seemed this miserable; hell they seemed all the happier, like they could get through it as easy as a breeze.
The loss of Football had to be what did me in so damn much. Before I started, I was always picking fights with anyone that would bite. I was in the nurse’s office, the principal’s office, and just about any kind of detention or suspension that they could throw at me. Playing that field was the only thing that kept my fists from being so damn bloody, and my head from being too hot.
Lysandra Greene… something wasn’t right with her. I’d loved her for as long as I could remember, but in my heart, I knew that she wasn’t telling me something; fuck if that didn’t leave scars that no medical person or equipment could see.
When I finally got back, Dad had been sweet about the whole thing – told me that if I didn’t want to go to school until the start of the new week, then I didn’t have to. This was rare for my old man, as he was a notoriously tough ass. Still, I knew unlike other people, that he had plenty of good and caring in his heart. Told him that I’d go back the next day, and he respected my will on the matter.
I laid in bed that night before returning to school, just listening to the sound of the crickets singing their music outside. It was the only thing I could try to focus on outside of the hurt; when I finally had enough waiting around, I called Lys.
She didn’t pick up. Hadn’t heard from her since the last time that we spoke in the hospital.
When the minutes of waiting and waiting turned to hours, that was when I got up and hobbled over to my large wooden desk. I’d etched in my initials in small, jagged print, on the side of it – this was back when I was a kid of course. Sitting down in the chair, I opened up the small drawer, one of three, and pulled out my yellow notebook and pen.
Poured out all of my pain into those pages in the form of poetry. The secret thing that I did, that I kept close to my heart – where nobody could find it. It was the one thing I wanted free from all judgment and prying eyes, one thing that was all my own.
Not that I ever thought the shit that I wrote was any good, of course.
Beguiled by emeralds and torn,
Throughout the frosted, misty morn.
Shattered diamonds make no more memories,
And the black seas that eat,
Place me on the bleeding throne, my seat.
Eventually, sleep did take me, and quick as the snap of my fingers together, I was back in class. Except where once I had been paying some attention, giving some level of a shit, all I could do was focus on the eyeballs I felt digging holes into my skin.
They were all mocking me, I thought. All of them in on the personal joke that was me. Guess Lys was ditching, cause I hadn’t seen her at all. Interesting that Bret wasn’t to be found either.
But I knew how to find them.
When Lunch rolled around, I sat down for a moment with my old team and talked with them for a little bit. Someone was kind enough to bring my tray over for me, and I placed my crutches against the table. They, my old team, were nice enough, and I still considered them my friends even if we couldn’t play together anymore – all of them offered their thanks for what I pulled off that night, and hoped that I recovered ASAP. Some of them went so far as to say that the team just wouldn’t be the same without me, which was more than I ever thought about myself.
Turning my attention to Tommy, I raised my chin at him, “What’s the deal T.”
“What do you mean?” He asked. Tommy, or T, as I liked to call him, was our wide receiver. He was a skinny black kid with dark brown eyes. The man was no stranger to broad shoulders and a good, strong jaw. What I liked most about him was his sense of humor and honesty though; course, on the field, he was like another being – quick as lightning and precise as a surgeon in the cutting room. Or as precise as a Jock could be out on the battlefield, I guess.
“Lys,” I said, tightening my jaw. “Heard more from you guys than I did from her, that’s a little messed up, don’t you think?” It was more of a question to all of them, but I felt most comfortable directing it at T. Took a bite out of my granny smith as the table fell silent, and people began to look away from my in subtle ways.
Knew shit wasn’t right. Just a matter of finding out what.
T spoke up: “I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout that man.”
“Would you tell me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “Would you tell me if you did?”
There was hesitation clear in his eyes. His body stiffened up. “Man, you know—“
“T. You’ve always been straight with me,” I growled, “don’t stop now.” I looked towards the rest of my old team, and none of them were enjoying the conversation that was about to go down. They talked in hushed whispers and careful glances.
“I don’t like to get involved, Gabe.”
“I’m involving you,” I told him, “so it’s too late for that. If you don’t know anything, whatever. If you do… don’t hold out on me.”
Tommy sighed and looked between me and his team, and then brought his attention fully back to me, leaning closer into the white table; the chatter of others eating and gossiping surrounding us. “I don’t know anything for sure man, but we didn’t want to tell you while you were still healin’. She ain’t talked to me, and she ain’t been talkin’ to anyone else here – ‘cept for your boy B.” B was Bret. “He and her been having lunch together, been talking in the halls, and from what I gather – they been going to the same place everyone else been.”
My throat tightened, and my heart was hammering in my chest at this point. Every coal of anger that had found it’s way into my body over the years became suddenly lit. “Where?”
“Dope Caverns.”
“No,” I shook my head, “no she wouldn’t do something as stupid as that.”
Tommy’s lips pursed tightly together, and he couldn’t seem to look me dead in the eye anymore. “Sorry man,” he offered, “she hooked on that sweet stuff.”
There wasn’t a greater hurt in my world than feeling the sting of T’s words. For a long time, even for as destructive as I had become, I thought the only person in this world that I could see myself beating to a bloody pulp was Rochester.
Lys… Bret… how the fuck could they do this to me?
The rage kissed hopelessly at the back of my neck, igniting an anger I’d never forget.
19
Madeline
Morning peeked through Gabriel’s gray draped windows, and I was surprised at just how good I felt.
Except for that stupid sickness in my belly.
Shit.
Only barely recognizing that Gabriel was turned face over in bed, in almost complete nakedness – I didn’t even have time to appreciate the fineness of his body. Near leaping out of bed, I tossed the blankets to the side and hurriedly padded from the bedroom over to the bathroom; trying to keep the sick down was a task in and of itself, one that I didn’t have a lot of practice in, thankfully.
Came up all the damn same.
Strange how my bones didn’t have that dull ache. Maybe I was still high off my human drug from last night, and all those aching, screaming orgasms. I could have kept a waterfall flowing with how wet I was last night.
After a short spell, I rinsed out my mouth and looked over my shoulder cautiously for Gabriel, thankfully he wasn’t to be found. Turning back to the sink, I grabbed his tooth brush and applied a small dab of paste, putting it below the faucet and wetting the brush just a bit. Once my teeth where clean, I padded over towards the couch and picked through my pants – procuring my smartphone, and checking through it.
More texts from that piece of shit.
DAMIEN: Where the F r u?
DAMIEN: I’ll slt my wrists. U bitch. Why r u doing this?
DAMIEN: Your the dumbest bitch ive ever put my dick in.
DAMIEN: You can’t leave me. You can never.
DAMIEN: You dont even kn
o.
Waves of nausea hit me all over again. Damien wasn’t some problem that I could just avoid, no. He was the biggest threat in my life, aside from my own foolishness, and my own despair. He was the root of all of my evils. And I had to cut him from my life completely, or else I’d just fall into old habits – fall into those dark places time, and time again.
Gabriel was a shining light that burned through the black. But I can’t rely on him… I’ll just end up being hurt again. No matter how real it felt, no matter how real it feels.
He’d judged me in all his pride, and in way, I didn’t fault him for that.
But people don’t change. Men don’t change. Hurt always seems to find me, no matter where I go.
I texted Damien back, letting him know just how much I hated him from the depths of my damn soul; how I was going to block his number after ranting on for what seemed like forever, and that if I ever saw him again I’d take him to court. Not like I’d done anything like that before, hell it probably wouldn’t even work that well – but what else could I do?
Slinking back to Gabriel’s room, I crawled back into bed to snuggle up against the handsome man – admiring all of his muscles and tattoos, and taking special note of his scars. He had what looked like bullet injuries close to his bellybutton; three sections of his skin all faded and pink, each of them unevenly apart from the last.
Along his great legs, down his thigh and towards the cap of his knee, was a single, jagged line. Was it a knife that did that kind of damage? Maybe some kind of improvised blade of a weapon. Every inch of Gabriel’s body told a story that I couldn’t fully understand, but I still felt this burning need to know.
Curiosity kills the cat. Good thing I’m a wolf.
I’d nearly managed to fall back asleep when Gabriel was roused from his slumber. My eyes couldn’t help but catch the awesome morning wood that he was sporting; the walls of my pussy squeezed together in delight at the sight of it, and I felt the urge to gobble him up again as I had last night. Just the thought of that wondrous mess made my body ache with fresh desire.
Christ, was this man more addictive than what I was hooked on?
Gabriel turned onto his side, his soil dark hair cascading along with him – and he rested his chin lazily on the palm of his hand. He licked at his dried lips, that were somehow still beautiful, and blinked. “You’re still here, huh,” the small smirk on his lips led me to believe he was being sardonic. “What a shame,” and just like that he moved to sarcasm.
I mirrored his movements, resting my chin in my hand and giving him a faux, serious look. “Yeah, you’re the unluckiest naked man popping a tent I’ve ever seen.”
His smile grew as wide as could be, giving me a glimpse of his dimples. “This unlucky man could do worse,” he teased.
“How?”
“He could be… “ Gabriel leaned forward, “kissing the pretty girl hogging his bed.” His lips slowly crashed against mine, and then he moved over me, pinning me down against the bed with the weight of his body.
When he pulled away and looked at me with those chocolate eyes, I said, “You think I’m pretty?”
“Didn’t say that,” he susurrated with that smoldering tone.
“You definitely did,” I wrapped my hands around the back of his head and pulled him in for another long kiss.
After he broke the kiss, he trailed his mouth down my neck – causing me to let out tiny moans. Gabriel continued planting kisses down my chest, grabbing at my tits as he passed them, and was on his way down to my navel. “Feeling better this morning?” He looked up at me for a moment, and then continued his sensual journey further, to the hem of my panties.
“How could I not?” I purred, it wasn’t the whole truth, per se. But no aches, no intense cravings. Not much of anything aside from the stomach queasiness.
“We’ll eat somewhere for breakfast,” he told me, peeling my panties off of me, the stubble of his jaw rubbing against my smooth leg. “After I’ve had my morning taste, of course.”
I raised my brows at him and pushed my head back, letting out the first of many, many moans.
***
After we stopped by my parent’s place for a couple changes of clothes, we were on our way to this hole in the wall that Gabriel couldn’t keep talking up. Naturally, he stayed behind in his truck instead of being anywhere near my parents. There were only a small few times were I felt the ‘dark cravings’ but I didn’t tell Gabriel about them; even though some part of me felt guilty for not. I knew that I had to be strong, that the strength couldn’t come from him or anyone else – to be free of the shit I’d gotten myself into, I had to find that willpower within.
Later in the day, we arrived and ordered at this tiny place called Freidrich Pancakes. It was run by the most beautiful, sincere woman that I’d met practically all year. She was much older than me, but couldn’t have been past thirty if I had to guess. Abagail Freidrich, owner, chef, and all around hard worker – she definitely gave the place her own special feel, even just off her warm personality.
Once the food arrived, my eyes went wide with anticipation. “Shit she wasn’t kidding, was she?”
Gabriel gave me the special gift of his warm, unrestricted laugh. Not the dark chuckle, or rumbly type he would normally do. “Consider it your newly found sobriety gift. You need your strength and you haven’t eaten that much, so dig in.”
“I mean this is too many carbs,” I mused, stabbing at the 8 layer beast of fluffy deliciousness. “You must be tired of me or something,” I joked, “because this is a food coma waiting to happen.”
Gabriel gave that smug, slight smirk. “Why’d I ever do somethin’ like that? Your voice doesn’t irritate me in the least,” his voice was colored with sarcasm.
The pancakes themselves were stacked high and drizzled with this to-die-for blueberry syrup. Slathered in whip cream and the lightest touch of butter; salted to perfection and loaded with exquisite chunks of banana. There was also a fine dusting of nuts and sugar powder, urging my mouth onwards to the next bite – trust me I needed precisely zero convincing to stuff these into my stomach.
I playfully kicked at Gabriel’s leg in retaliation for his previous comment, and in response, he made an exaggerated expression.
“Try a little higher and a little lighter,” he deadpanned, munching on his stack of pancake deliciousness.
Well you know what they say. When you’re walking through the garden, give no heed to temptations – but that’s just no fun.
Tempt I do. Every time.
I sneakily brought my foot up to his crotch and felt a smile walk along the lines of my face, my foot massaging Gabriel’s cock through his black jeans. This alone was enough to excite me, but it’s not like it could be helped – when you’re a shameless pervert, you’re a shameless pervert.
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed at me, his dark brows knitting together. “You—“ he adjusted in his side of the booth, making a breathy, manly kind of noise. “You’re quite the multi-tasker. Stop touching my cock… “ he kicked away my foot, “and eat your pancakes. You’re as skinny as a tree.” He craned his head around and looked back at me, “never thought I’d say that in my lifetime.”
I shrugged and stuffed my face full of more food, “It’s okay,” I told him. “I understand. You’re afraid I’d make you come.”
He scoffed at that and leaned into the table, shaking his head from one side to the other – that familiar glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “You can’t make me come from your foot alone, rockstar. You’re not that good. No one is.”
I let my fork clatter against the plate and wiped away some of the syrup on my blue lips, my eyes crawling over his perfect lips and the silver stud just below them. “Oh really?”
“Really.”
***
The truck sputtered on down the road, and Gabriel was still in silent fury mode, his lips pursed tightly together. I couldn’t keep my smile away from myself, and continued to hold my hand over my lips to tr
y and hide it. Looking out the window and away from him, as to try and not poke any more fun than I had, I was quietly thankful that we were able to get out without Abagail noticing anything amiss.
Later that night, we were once again on his couch – and there was still a touch of uncertainty in the air for the both of us. Not just from the earlier incident, mind you, but just… the way he made me feel. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to devour him whole, yell at him, or be as far away from him as possible – it was like being close to an event horizon. Beautiful to look at, captivating really, but once you’re sucked in. Poof. That’s all she wrote.
Some guy called ‘Bruiser’ kept calling him, and Gabriel was talking about how he would probably leave me alone soon to go and catch up with his ‘crew’.
I on the other hand, earlier, was being positively blessed with the idiocy of that scumbag Damien. His number was blocked, but he either borrowed someone else’s or just got another phone. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Gabriel about him. Damien was my problem, and Gabriel, and by extension, Jasmine, had already done so much for me.
When Gabriel finally got off the phone, and there was a lull in the wondrously entertaining junk TV, Storage Wars, I asked. “These guys you ride with… are they bad?” It felt awkward to ask, but something inside of me wouldn’t let me not ask it. “Or are they, you know, good. Like you.”
Gabriel looked at me like I’d adamantly told him the sun was purple. “Since when am I the good guy,” he rumbled, his rough country accent all gravel. “We just do what we do,” he continued, “good or bad. Try and make the town a better place, but at the end of the day – we keep our family fed, protected and loved.”
Loved. That was a word that felt so foreign to me.
Like I’d only ever learned it in languages I couldn’t understand. With ‘partners’ that never knew the rhythms, nor how to teach them.
“Sounds like you have an awfully romantic view of things, for looking like such a hard ass.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes, “Sounds like you have a mouth on you.”
“Problem with it?”
He gave me that sexy, intense look then. “No,” he admitted in that smoky, country like tone, his eyes raking over my lips. “Not when it’s on my cock.”
