Read Online Violence Begets... by Pt Denys, Myra Shelley - Free Book Online Page B

chick. I knew
it was coming, and that’s why I knew the excuse would work.”
    “Looks like it hurt.”
    “Yeah, but you should’ve seen them,”
he smirked. “I got the better end of the deal, that’s for sure. So how are ya hangin’
in there this morning?” He was being way too nice.
    “I need a drink.” He reached in his
bag and handed me a flask. Well, that was easy, I thought. Should I ask
for a million bucks next?
    “Did he come back last night?”
    “Yeah, came to my room and apologized.”
I twisted the cap off.
    “What the fuck?”
    “Yeah, I know.” I took a swig and winced
as the alcohol stung the open cuts in my mouth.
    “Whiskey, it’s a bitch going down but
it’ll help with the pain,” he said, taking the bottle back and helping himself to
several swallows like he was drinking a glass of water.
    “What about stepmom and sister? Any
more run-ins?”
    “Yeah, ran into Sylvia this morning.
She assumed I got in a fight.”
    “Let her.”
    “Huh?”
    “Let her assume that. It’s our story
right?”
    “Yeah, I guess.”
    “So, you feel like going to school today?”
    “Not so much.”
    “Wanna hang at my house? My father’s
at work.”
    I hesitated. This was Kevin; he was
crazy. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to spend the day alone with him. He obviously
picked up on my reservations.
    “I promise I won’t bite.”
    Kevin
    What the fuck was I doing? This was
so not how I played my game. He’d gotten his ass kicked by his dad. So what? I should
feel sorry for him? Well, I told myself, it was another thing I could use to break
him. It would be a low blow, but I didn’t get where I was by showing mercy. I also
didn’t get where I was by lying to myself. I felt sorry for the fucker, and I had
to fucking stop if I was going to stay on top of his shit.
    I had invited him over so I had time
to deal with whatever it was that was fucking up my focus. If I got him alone, maybe
I could figure out what was driving him. I needed to get a handle on shit before
it was too late.
    We didn’t talk anymore about what had
happened to him. We sat and watched TV. Well, he watched TV, and I watched him.
I didn’t like feeling sorry for anyone. Feeling anything, other than in control,
was not a safe place for me to be. Fucking irritation bit at my nerves, but I didn’t
let him see it. I had to figure out what was driving him so I could manage it.
    “I need another fucking drink. Want
one?”
    “Yeah, why not? Helps with the pain,
right?"
    “Yes, so do these,” I said returning
with a beer and a few pain pills.
    “What are those?” he asked.
    “Lortabs. They’ll knock you on your
ass, but you won’t feel shit once they kick in.”
    “Are they safe to be mixing with alcohol?”
    “You seriously just asked me that?”
I shot back, cracking a thin smile. “Take ‘em,” I said, sitting back down on the
couch.
    “Are you going to take any?”
    “Already did,” I said, focusing on the
TV.
    I glanced over and watched as he rolled
the pills around in his hand for a few seconds, took a swig of beer, dropped the
pills in his mouth, swallowed, and chased them down with more beer. I smiled to
myself. They would help, but one pill would’ve been sufficient. Two, mixed with
the booze, would literally knock him on his ass. I knew I had a short window between
the pills kicking in and him passing out, so I waited about twenty minutes before
I started with the questions.
    “So, Jessica. You guys totally got it
on the other night.”
    “Yeah, she’s pretty hot,” he said, and
I could tell he was definitely faded.
    “Did you have a girl before you moved
here?”
    “Nah, nothin’ like her.”
    “What ‘bout friends? Stay in touch with
any of ‘em?”
    “Not so much.”
    My plan was turning out to be harder
than I thought. Once people started to fade they usually loved to talk about themselves,
not these short, dead-end answers he was giving me.
    “Did you like your old school?”
    “It was