Yeah, he knew he was a bastard, but Zeke didn’t care; he embraced the title. Being the way he was, strong, fierce, not giving a shit about beating someone down, gave him the reputation, even at only eighteen, for having balls of steel. But he didn’t do what he did just for a reputation. He did what he did because he’d told himself long ago he would be stronger than all others. It was the only way to survive.
When he was finished, he pulled out of her, pulled his jeans up, tucked his dick in his pants, and sat on the edge of the truck. The party was in the house right beside them, the truck they sat on parked in the alley next to it. Zeke grabbed the joint in his pocket, lit the end with the lighter he’d found earlier, and blazed up.
The girl he’d just fucked got off the edge of the truck, adjusting her skirt as she stumbled toward the party. Zeke was sick of this shitty town, sick of having to work for some asshole, and he knew his time would come. He just had to be patient, had to focus on his goals, and in the end, he’d be the one laying down the law.
Zeke: twenty years old
“Do it. Fucking do it, already, you worthless asshole,” Zeke said and grinned, tasting the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth. He turned his head and spit it out all over the stained carpet. Zeke looked at his useless father again, the man that had made him the monster he was today. Zeke hated the fucker, hated everything he represented. His mother had died of a drug overdose just a year before, and against all odds, this piece of shit that called himself a father was still alive.
“I should have ended your life back when you couldn’t even defend yourself.”
“You should have, because I’ve come back to make sure this shit ends now and that you understand what it means to get what’s coming to you.” Zeke hadn’t been living in the same house with his dad since he was eighteen years old. He’d worked his ass off at a shitty job, paying his bills, and fucking random sluts. At the end of the day, he’d lay in bed and picture the man right in front of him, the one he wanted to kill. For years, Zeke had thought about nothing but killing his father, the man that had given him life. The same man that had beaten him daily, abused him emotionally and verbally, and made Zeke the apathetic and heartless bastard he was today.
He couldn’t have any kind of relationship with a female, not one that didn’t involve his dick in their bodies, and no talking afterward. He’d become a person that feasted on hatred and kept his emotions buried deep inside. He knew that one day they’d explode and whoever was in the crosshairs would be destroyed.
So, he’d come back to his father’s home, the crappy little one story house, to finish it. He’d waited long enough, thought about what he wanted to do and how he would do it, and finally saved enough money to get the fuck out of here and never look back. Even if they linked this to him, Zeke would be long gone.#p#分页标题#e#
Zeke stared at the inside of the house that he’d cried in when he was younger, prayed to whoever would listen to help him escape, and where he’d realized nothing would change. No one came for him, and no one helped him; so he decided he’d just have to rely on himself if he wanted to survive.
He’d walked into this dump just five minutes earlier, saw his dad on the couch with a whore giving him a blow job, and the memories of all those things he’d witnessed at a young age had come crashing back to him. The whore then left, his father punched Zeke on sheer principle alone, and right now, was in the process of shooting up his dinner. Now was the time to end this. He had to end this, because if he didn’t, he’d be living with this destruction inside of him forever.
His old man was slow, high, and getting more detached with each passing second. His movements were sloppy, sluggish, and Zeke was able to anticipate what was coming. Zeke had let him get that first punch in, reveled in the pain it caused. Staring at the man that had tormented him as a young boy, and had created the monster Zeke was today, it was like looking into a mirror. He was his father, in all senses of the depraved, evil word.
However, Zeke wasn’t going to make this man suffer, wasn’t going to torment him as he’d done to Zeke for so many years. No, Zeke was going to make this the first death of many in his lifetime, the first execution of anyone that tried to bring him down, tried to make him feel inferior. No more would he be the victim.
He reached in his pocket, grabbed the syringe filled with a lethal dose of heroin, and when his father came forward, ready to hit Zeke again, he pushed him back hard enough that he fell to the floor. He was too high to know what was going on right now, but soon, he’d not have to worry about being the piece of shit human he’d always been.