Stories From The 6 Train 1(73)

I pick up the fucking pace, running after her with a spring in my step. I don’t even know what I’ll fucking say to her once I catch up, but hey, what’s the harm in jogging with my stepmother? That’s not a fucking crime, last time I fucking checked. We’ll just bond as stepson and stepmother. Oh, fuck, who am I trying to fucking fool? I didn’t leave the house because I wanted to “bond,” whatever that fucking means. I did it because… Fuck, I have no idea why. After seeing her this morning, yoga pants hugging her slender legs, her sweet lips almost begging me to rest my cock between them... I just knew I had to come after her.

I’m already within shouting distance but I keep quiet, deciding to surprise her. And that’s when I fucking see him—a fucking guy in a black hoodie, a kerchief covering his face, fucking jumps out from behind the trunk of a maple tree and pushes Jocelyn to the fucking floor. She loses her balance and goes down fast; her knees hitting the ground as the man takes one wide stride toward her. He grabs her by the hair and pulls her into a hedgerow, making me lose them out of sight. Fuck, fuck!

My heart starts to fucking race, and for a moment, all I see is fucking red. There’s murder in my fucking veins right now. Whoever that fucking bastard is, he has no idea about the world of fucking pain he has just stepped into; he has just signed his fucking death sentence.

Running like a fucking train, I chase after the two of them. My feet hitting the floor at an anxious frantic pace, I cover the distance between me and the fucking hedgerow in just a few seconds. I stop, and looking around, notice movement between two fucking bushes. Moving like a fucking bullet—and as fucking murderous as one—I jump into the bushes, my hands turning into fists.

The fucking bastard has her pinned down on the ground, struggling to part her legs and rest his body on top of hers. The motherfucker is trying to fucking rape her! I feel rage coursing through my veins, my muscles tensing as I hurry toward the two of them.

Jocelyn is putting up a fucking fight, though. She has the flat palm of her hand on his face, trying to claw his fucking eyeballs out, but the man simply pushes her arms to the side. Then, he reaches behind his back, pulling a fucking knife out from his back pocket. Motherfucker.

“Hey, let her fucking go!” I shout as the man presses the blade against her neck. I lock eyes with Jocelyn, fear making her eyes wide as the man turns to look at me. His eyes bore into me like nails, suddenly realizing that he has a fucking problem on his hands. He has no idea how big of a fucking problem.

Right now, he has one fucking choice to make, and I can see the gears turning inside his head as he considers his options; he either lets her go and bolts, or tries to get rid of both of me and Jocelyn, eliminating all witnesses. As he gets up and turns to me, his fingers curled tight around the knife’s handle, the choice he made becomes clear as fucking crystal to me.

“You’re fucking dead, boy,” he hisses, lunging at me and trying to fucking slice me across the chest. Boy? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s already trying to fucking stab me, did he really have to call me boy? That just makes me want to fucking knock his lights out even more.

I take one step back, getting out of his reach, but he comes after me, the fucking sun reflecting on the blade as he moves it above his head and brings it down. Fuck, I can’t dodge him forever; if I simply keep getting out of reach, my luck is going to fucking run out and I’ll end up with that knife buried five fucking inches deep in my chest.

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath as my back hits the trunk of a large fucking tree. Death in his fucking eyes, the guy in the hoodie closes the distance between me and him and changes his grip on the knife, grabbing it underhandedly. He raises his arm and then brings it down again, aiming for my fucking heart. This is it; I can’t dodge him anymore.

Moving fast, I take one step toward him and raise my arm up in the air, trying to block him. His forearm hits mine as he presses down, the tip of the blade hanging two inches above my head.

“Who did you call a ‘boy’?” I ask him with a grin, gallons of fucking adrenaline raging through me. He wasn’t expecting me to be so fucking bold, so I take his moment’s confusion to ram my closed fist into his fucking face. There’s a nauseating crunching sound as my hand crashes against his nose, and the man tumbles back, letting go of the knife and bringing both hands to his ruined face. His kerchief is turning fucking red, soaking the blood from his broken nose.

“You’re fucking dead,” he hisses again, rage burning in his eyes. Like a fucking madman he throws himself at me, trying to grab me by the neck. I sidestep him easily and fucking punch him again, this time my fist landing on the side of his face. He tumbles onto the ground, falling flat on his ass. I take the chance and jump on top of him, fucking pummeling him with my close fist. This motherfucker tried to fucking rape Jocelyn, and if I wasn’t around... Fuck.