“You’re a fucking hypocrite. Don’t think I don’t know your past, Blake. I know about all those trips you took and how you came home with a little more of your soul stripped away.”
“I killed for you,” he says, and I have to stop myself from asking if he’s serious.
“You believed you killed my Dad for me. You didn’t have to carry on killing random people, Blake. You did it because you liked it, and the money didn’t hurt, right? Don’t blame your sins on me, it won’t help your defense if you’re caught.”
“I’ll never be caught, Ryan. Unlike you, I didn’t take pleasure in massacring people for the sake of it. You were reckless.”
I’ll give him that. I did become reckless, the satisfaction and pulsating need took over and I gave in to it, slicing those whores up like they were fresh fruit on a summer’s day.
“What are you doing here, Ryan?”
I narrow my eyes at him and lift my arms up for dramatic effect. “Oh, I’m fixed, brother, didn’t you get the memo? The good Doctor healed me after torturing me inside those brick walls for half my life.”
He swipes his hands down his face. He looks tired and underweight. “How did you get him to let you go?”
It appears my big brother has finally accepted that I was never broken to begin with, and therefore could never be fixed, so it had to be trickery or bribery that got me out, and in a sense he’s right. I tricked the Doctors into believing they fixed an ill patient.
“You look tired, brother, not sleeping well?”
“I sleep just fine.”
“And how about Melody? Is she sleeping well?”
The impact from his fist hitting flesh and bone makes my nose pop and explode a shower of blood over us both.
“Don’t say her name,” he warns.
I swipe at some of the blood decorating my lips and suck the finger into my mouth, pulling it free with a pop. “You know violence only turns me on, Blake.” I grin at him. He’s on edge and his rage is barely contained under the surface. I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, okay? That was insensitive of me. I have no right to ask. I don’t even know if you still speak to her or not. I gather she couldn’t get far enough away from our crazy.”
I do have the right to ask, she was mine first and she will always belong to me, just like he does and just like Cereus does.
“What are you doing here at Club Nine, Ryan?”
I look over at the club and shrug my shoulders. “One of my crazy friends works here. Ironic, I know.” I smirk. “I was just waiting for her.”
“You’ve been out here for over three hours.”
He’s irritating me and apparently following me, or having someone do it for him, which is a problem since I’ve been spending time with Cereus.
“Isn’t there a law against following and harassing people that haven’t broken any laws?” I ask.
“Haven’t broken any laws? Is that a joke?”
“I haven’t broken any laws you haven’t yourself broken, Blake.” I point to the broken nose I’m now sporting, and up at a camera on the side of the building we’re standing near. “Your recent crime; assault.”
“I don’t know why or how you got let out, Ryan, but brother or not, if you cave to those urges I know are still in you, I will kill you. Whether I get caught and put away for it or not, I swear to you I will kill you myself before I let you do any more damage. You may have no conscience but I do, and mine eats away at me for what you did to Mel’s parents just to see her break.”
He turns his back on me and I debate tackling him for his gun and putting a few bullets in him. My blood is on fire and the itch is demanding I give into it. It becomes toxic if I don’t indulge it, embrace it and feed it. It will boil in my veins and find its own release, and that’s when I mess up and end up fucking and killing with no thought of consequence.
My feet carried me back to Grace Manor. The voices are too loud and boisterous, the lighting too bright.
“You’re late for curfew!” Jason barks at me.
Fuck off you greasy little maggot-cocked pervert that can only get laid by crazy bitches needing something in return. I want to force feed you that sign-in book one page at a time and then use your pen to staple your cock to the cover.
I rip the piece of paper from the book and hold it up to his face. He pales and then lifts the receiver on the phone behind the desk he thinks makes him safe from my wrath. I screw up the piece of paper and push it into my pocket. “Who you calling?”
“You can’t talk to me like that. You threatened me.”