Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part One
Page 12
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I sprayed long hot streams all over her stomach and thighs, the last spurt landing right over her spread pussy. I tried to catch my breath but when I opened my eyes, I grew instantly hard again when I found myself looking down at the most perfect fucking picture I’d just painted on her body with my cum.
Quicker than I’d gotten on the bed, I jumped the fuck off off. I quickly, yet reluctantly, wiped my cum from her stomach with a wash cloth, then I left the room in such a rush that I tripped over Mirna’s pet pig in the hallway. Oscar grunted and oinked, and even in the darkness I saw the disapproving glare in his piggy eyes. “Fuck you, Oscar, don’t be all judgey,” I whispered. More grunting. “One more look like that and I’ll tell Mirna how you like to dry hump her teddy bear collection during her afternoon nap.” The oinking stopped and he backed away into the bathroom, where I’d set up the giant dog bed he slept on. I flashed him a smug winning look and flipped him off.
I headed out to the backyard where I could smoke some weed and get a grip on the weirdest fucking night of my life. I saved that girl twice in one night. I was exhausted.
But hey, glass half full and all, I DID get to kill someone.
As I sat on the back step and packed my bow tie one-hitter, a thought entered my brain and started running on the days playback reel. I didn’t know why the fuck it was there because it was telling me something I already knew. Answering a question I wasn’t even fucking asking.
I can’t keep you.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DRE
Nightmares. At least, I thought they were nightmares. Night after night, day after day, they took hold on both my body and mind, delivering an endless kind of agony I never knew was possible. I was sure I’d died because the place I was existing in was pure fucking hell, reliving the very worst moments of my life over and over, never growing numb to the pain.
The sounds haunted me first. Twisting metal. Breaking glass.
Screaming.
The smells came next. Cedar trees and burning plastic.
Then it was like watching a slow motion video of myself. I’m outside of my body, watching myself standing in the pouring rain. Water, streaked with red, ran down my face, my arms, and off the tips of my fingers onto the pavement. I was staring at something, but when I turned around to see what I’m staring at, the scene shifts.
The sounds turned to evil laughter. Grunting. The slap of skin. The tearing pain.
The smell became musty mold, sweat, and uncirculated air. The video was now of Eric and Conner standing over me, blood, that dank motel room. More grunting as they took turns with me. Laughing when I cried. Louder and louder, until I realized I wasn’t dead.
The sound was real.
Someone was grunting over me.
A deep nasally rumble that grew louder and louder until the noise was pressed directly up against my ear, and I felt whatever it was vibrating against my cheek. Cold and wet.
Wet?
What the fuck?
Sitting up with a start I looked around, but there was no one there. I automatically winced as I prepared for the onslaught of my withdrawals, but they never came. There was a slight pounding behind my eyes, but nothing like the stomach twisting, near death, morning after experience I was expecting.
Something moved next to the bed and I came face to face with the source of the grunting.
Well, face to snout.
Wedged between the small space between the bed and the wall was a good sized pig, larger than most dogs. His black and white markings resembled a dairy cow. It rested its head on the bed by my leg, and I could swear the fucker was smiling at me. Its snout was wet and glistening as he sniffed around the bed, probably trying to figure out who the fuck I was. I covered my bare thigh with the blanket so he would stop wetting it with his piggy grossness.
“Don’t think you’re special. Oscar’s a flirt. He does this with all the ladies,” a familiar voice said, and my gaze snapped from the pig at my side to the man leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, his legs crossed at the ankles casually, comfortably. His cocky smirk sent shivers up my spine and made my heart race.
“How am I here? Why?” I asked, wracking my brain for a reason. The last thing I remembered was waiting for my bus and then…and then I had no idea.
“Simple. I brought you here.” Preppy’s white shirt was perfectly pressed, the sleeves rolled up just above his elbows. He wore a pink bow tie with some kind of design, although I couldn’t make it out, but whatever it was, his suspenders matched. He was a contrast of tattoos and class. Like hipster meets teacher. A combination that worked for him, but had me questioning who the fuck he really was and what he wanted with me.
I pulled the covers over my bare chest and noticed the sSrawberry Shortcake pattern on the sheets. A quick glance around the small room confirmed where I was.
My childhood room, back at Mirna’s.
“Mirna!” I shouted, forgetting about the sheet and sitting up on my knees in the bed. “Where is she?” I demanded, “Did you hurt her? This wasn’t her fault. She didn’t do anything!”
He smiled and ran his thumb over his bottom lip. I followed his gaze down to my naked chest. I needed answers more than I needed to cover up. He outwardly ogled me, and if he thought that I’d cower or grow uncomfortable under his inspection, then he’d thought wrong. Instead of grabbing for the sheet again or crossing my arms over my chest, I defiantly placed my hands on my hips.
“You’re welcome for saving you twice in one night by the way.”
“I wasn’t thanking you,” I spat. “And what do you mean twice?”
Just then Mirna’s white hair appeared in the doorway. She placed a hand on Preppy’s shoulder and he stepped aside. Relief flooded me. She was alive and appeared unhurt. My first instinct was to run to her and throw myself into a hug, but I remembered how she was when I saw her last and didn’t want to scare her by tossing my battered naked body into her arms, when she didn’t even know who I was.
No longer needing to prove my point to Preppy, I reached for the sheet and wrapped it around my body. “Hi,” I said with a small wave, clutching the sheet to my chest. Mirna crossed the room, slowly walking over to the bed with her mouth agape. There was something different about her than the day before. More focused. I cautiously reintroduced myself. “I don’t know if you remember me from yesterday, but my name is…”
Quicker than I’d gotten on the bed, I jumped the fuck off off. I quickly, yet reluctantly, wiped my cum from her stomach with a wash cloth, then I left the room in such a rush that I tripped over Mirna’s pet pig in the hallway. Oscar grunted and oinked, and even in the darkness I saw the disapproving glare in his piggy eyes. “Fuck you, Oscar, don’t be all judgey,” I whispered. More grunting. “One more look like that and I’ll tell Mirna how you like to dry hump her teddy bear collection during her afternoon nap.” The oinking stopped and he backed away into the bathroom, where I’d set up the giant dog bed he slept on. I flashed him a smug winning look and flipped him off.
I headed out to the backyard where I could smoke some weed and get a grip on the weirdest fucking night of my life. I saved that girl twice in one night. I was exhausted.
But hey, glass half full and all, I DID get to kill someone.
As I sat on the back step and packed my bow tie one-hitter, a thought entered my brain and started running on the days playback reel. I didn’t know why the fuck it was there because it was telling me something I already knew. Answering a question I wasn’t even fucking asking.
I can’t keep you.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DRE
Nightmares. At least, I thought they were nightmares. Night after night, day after day, they took hold on both my body and mind, delivering an endless kind of agony I never knew was possible. I was sure I’d died because the place I was existing in was pure fucking hell, reliving the very worst moments of my life over and over, never growing numb to the pain.
The sounds haunted me first. Twisting metal. Breaking glass.
Screaming.
The smells came next. Cedar trees and burning plastic.
Then it was like watching a slow motion video of myself. I’m outside of my body, watching myself standing in the pouring rain. Water, streaked with red, ran down my face, my arms, and off the tips of my fingers onto the pavement. I was staring at something, but when I turned around to see what I’m staring at, the scene shifts.
The sounds turned to evil laughter. Grunting. The slap of skin. The tearing pain.
The smell became musty mold, sweat, and uncirculated air. The video was now of Eric and Conner standing over me, blood, that dank motel room. More grunting as they took turns with me. Laughing when I cried. Louder and louder, until I realized I wasn’t dead.
The sound was real.
Someone was grunting over me.
A deep nasally rumble that grew louder and louder until the noise was pressed directly up against my ear, and I felt whatever it was vibrating against my cheek. Cold and wet.
Wet?
What the fuck?
Sitting up with a start I looked around, but there was no one there. I automatically winced as I prepared for the onslaught of my withdrawals, but they never came. There was a slight pounding behind my eyes, but nothing like the stomach twisting, near death, morning after experience I was expecting.
Something moved next to the bed and I came face to face with the source of the grunting.
Well, face to snout.
Wedged between the small space between the bed and the wall was a good sized pig, larger than most dogs. His black and white markings resembled a dairy cow. It rested its head on the bed by my leg, and I could swear the fucker was smiling at me. Its snout was wet and glistening as he sniffed around the bed, probably trying to figure out who the fuck I was. I covered my bare thigh with the blanket so he would stop wetting it with his piggy grossness.
“Don’t think you’re special. Oscar’s a flirt. He does this with all the ladies,” a familiar voice said, and my gaze snapped from the pig at my side to the man leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, his legs crossed at the ankles casually, comfortably. His cocky smirk sent shivers up my spine and made my heart race.
“How am I here? Why?” I asked, wracking my brain for a reason. The last thing I remembered was waiting for my bus and then…and then I had no idea.
“Simple. I brought you here.” Preppy’s white shirt was perfectly pressed, the sleeves rolled up just above his elbows. He wore a pink bow tie with some kind of design, although I couldn’t make it out, but whatever it was, his suspenders matched. He was a contrast of tattoos and class. Like hipster meets teacher. A combination that worked for him, but had me questioning who the fuck he really was and what he wanted with me.
I pulled the covers over my bare chest and noticed the sSrawberry Shortcake pattern on the sheets. A quick glance around the small room confirmed where I was.
My childhood room, back at Mirna’s.
“Mirna!” I shouted, forgetting about the sheet and sitting up on my knees in the bed. “Where is she?” I demanded, “Did you hurt her? This wasn’t her fault. She didn’t do anything!”
He smiled and ran his thumb over his bottom lip. I followed his gaze down to my naked chest. I needed answers more than I needed to cover up. He outwardly ogled me, and if he thought that I’d cower or grow uncomfortable under his inspection, then he’d thought wrong. Instead of grabbing for the sheet again or crossing my arms over my chest, I defiantly placed my hands on my hips.
“You’re welcome for saving you twice in one night by the way.”
“I wasn’t thanking you,” I spat. “And what do you mean twice?”
Just then Mirna’s white hair appeared in the doorway. She placed a hand on Preppy’s shoulder and he stepped aside. Relief flooded me. She was alive and appeared unhurt. My first instinct was to run to her and throw myself into a hug, but I remembered how she was when I saw her last and didn’t want to scare her by tossing my battered naked body into her arms, when she didn’t even know who I was.
No longer needing to prove my point to Preppy, I reached for the sheet and wrapped it around my body. “Hi,” I said with a small wave, clutching the sheet to my chest. Mirna crossed the room, slowly walking over to the bed with her mouth agape. There was something different about her than the day before. More focused. I cautiously reintroduced myself. “I don’t know if you remember me from yesterday, but my name is…”
