Read Online Ruthless (Dark MC Romance) by Vanessa Waltz - Free Book Online
Authors: Vanessa Waltz
Tags: Suspense, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, romantic suspense, New Adult & College, Mystery & Suspense
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starting to smell, and dusty bottles of beer covered the coffee table. Some weren’t empty. He picked one of them at random and swigged the last dregs into his mouth.
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
He sunk into the couch, dragging something metallic towards him.
Once inside the equally filthy bathroom, I rummaged through my purse, peering at myself through my compact mirror (the bathroom mirror was dusty). I applied another layer of lipstick, brushed my hair, and grinned at myself.
I was shaking.
He called for me and I obeyed, re-entering the bedroom. He was cutting up something and waited for me to sit beside him. I obliged and took the proffered straw.
The white powder was neatly separated into two lines. I flushed, having never done coke before, but I couldn’t show him that. Be cool. Just do it.
He rubbed my neck as I bent over and aimed my straw at the start line. I inhaled sharply and it burned. Exhilaration rushed through my veins. My dreams were not only possible—but laughably simple. I rattled off a list of my dreams to the boy, who no longer intimidated me. He bent his head while listening and snorted the coke, wiping the fine dust of powder under his nose and brushing his teeth with it.
Then he leaned over her with a coked out, deadened look that I recognized and his rank breath billowed across my nose. I cringed as he grabbed my breast, and suddenly I realized that I wasn’t ready for this at all. It was too late.
Just leave! I screamed. Go!
Too late. His thickness split me open, leaving me crying out in pain. It wasn’t pleasant—it wasn’t glamorous. It just felt dirty. Afterwards, he kissed me and I left his house with that unpleasant, wet feeling lining my panties. Still, I convinced myself that I enjoyed it. I was grown up now, and the girls at school would be impressed.
My eyes burned in the dark. It didn’t bother me anymore, what upset me the most was that I still had no idea what I wanted in life. What little was left of it.
I want excitement…I want another line of coke.
I couldn’t think beyond the fucking present. Everything was immediate. Most disturbing was my lack of feelings for Bryan.
Shouldn’t I be crying over my dead husband?
My eyes were dry. It disturbed me to admit that I felt relieved when he died. All the pressure was gone. I wouldn’t be expected to bear his children or force myself into believing that playing house was what I wanted. It wasn’t. Then what was?
My mind was as blank as the darkness in front of my eyes. Thoughts ran after each other in a circle. All except that little bag of white powder. It was branded into my mind. I want more.
Despite my obsession, the high faded and boredom suffocated me. Once again I didn’t even have a body. I just floated through the dark, trying to guide the current. I saw myself strapped on a steel table and I thought I heard a squeak.
No, I can’t have.
Strange scurrying sounds were underneath me and a cold bead of sweat rolled down my face. The apartment I used to live in with my grandmother was infested with rats. They ran across my feet while I slept. A headless pigeon trapped in a cage flashed across my vision—the pigeons I caught on the street to keep as pets were devoured by rats. I was stupid to think I could have anything for myself. I never forgot how their bodies looked. All of those beautiful, headless bodies slumped in too small cages. Blood spattered everywhere, their little footprints etched all over the garage like a crime scene. My fault.
A warm, shivering body scurried across my legs and I opened my mouth. Vibrations shook my throat and I heard my blood-curdling scream inside my own head.
Get it off me!
I shook my body to dislodge the rat, but its little feet grasped my leg firmly. Its little wet nose sniffed my knee and then it walked up my thigh. My foot jerked as something clawed over it. I could almost see the long, bald tail curled around my foot. Another one?
My chest rose and
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
He sunk into the couch, dragging something metallic towards him.
Once inside the equally filthy bathroom, I rummaged through my purse, peering at myself through my compact mirror (the bathroom mirror was dusty). I applied another layer of lipstick, brushed my hair, and grinned at myself.
I was shaking.
He called for me and I obeyed, re-entering the bedroom. He was cutting up something and waited for me to sit beside him. I obliged and took the proffered straw.
The white powder was neatly separated into two lines. I flushed, having never done coke before, but I couldn’t show him that. Be cool. Just do it.
He rubbed my neck as I bent over and aimed my straw at the start line. I inhaled sharply and it burned. Exhilaration rushed through my veins. My dreams were not only possible—but laughably simple. I rattled off a list of my dreams to the boy, who no longer intimidated me. He bent his head while listening and snorted the coke, wiping the fine dust of powder under his nose and brushing his teeth with it.
Then he leaned over her with a coked out, deadened look that I recognized and his rank breath billowed across my nose. I cringed as he grabbed my breast, and suddenly I realized that I wasn’t ready for this at all. It was too late.
Just leave! I screamed. Go!
Too late. His thickness split me open, leaving me crying out in pain. It wasn’t pleasant—it wasn’t glamorous. It just felt dirty. Afterwards, he kissed me and I left his house with that unpleasant, wet feeling lining my panties. Still, I convinced myself that I enjoyed it. I was grown up now, and the girls at school would be impressed.
My eyes burned in the dark. It didn’t bother me anymore, what upset me the most was that I still had no idea what I wanted in life. What little was left of it.
I want excitement…I want another line of coke.
I couldn’t think beyond the fucking present. Everything was immediate. Most disturbing was my lack of feelings for Bryan.
Shouldn’t I be crying over my dead husband?
My eyes were dry. It disturbed me to admit that I felt relieved when he died. All the pressure was gone. I wouldn’t be expected to bear his children or force myself into believing that playing house was what I wanted. It wasn’t. Then what was?
My mind was as blank as the darkness in front of my eyes. Thoughts ran after each other in a circle. All except that little bag of white powder. It was branded into my mind. I want more.
Despite my obsession, the high faded and boredom suffocated me. Once again I didn’t even have a body. I just floated through the dark, trying to guide the current. I saw myself strapped on a steel table and I thought I heard a squeak.
No, I can’t have.
Strange scurrying sounds were underneath me and a cold bead of sweat rolled down my face. The apartment I used to live in with my grandmother was infested with rats. They ran across my feet while I slept. A headless pigeon trapped in a cage flashed across my vision—the pigeons I caught on the street to keep as pets were devoured by rats. I was stupid to think I could have anything for myself. I never forgot how their bodies looked. All of those beautiful, headless bodies slumped in too small cages. Blood spattered everywhere, their little footprints etched all over the garage like a crime scene. My fault.
A warm, shivering body scurried across my legs and I opened my mouth. Vibrations shook my throat and I heard my blood-curdling scream inside my own head.
Get it off me!
I shook my body to dislodge the rat, but its little feet grasped my leg firmly. Its little wet nose sniffed my knee and then it walked up my thigh. My foot jerked as something clawed over it. I could almost see the long, bald tail curled around my foot. Another one?
My chest rose and
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