Chasing Taboo

912 was quiet, covered in its usual light haze of disorder. The synth rhythms from Mixer’s video game swam through the dead air, interrupted by occasional action blips. Ace opened the door for Olivia, his face a bit tired and worn, and his hair, which was normally tight and combed, was tousled and neglected. This wasn’t going to be a party night.

“One,” said a fuzzy cartoon voice. “One, two.”

“One, two bananas!” said a child.

Olivia looked on the floor and saw a four year old in pigtails sitting next to Mixer. She had some sort of kid’s computer toy on her lap with a series of numbered buttons.

“Kang’ju!” snapped Mixer. “Will you stop that?”

Kang’ju pressed another button, and the cartoon voice said, “Five.” She pressed it again.  “Five.”

“Five bananas!” shouted Kang’ju.

“No bananas!” growled Mixer, and he took the toy away from her.

With great fervor and indignation, Kang’ju pulled back a tight fist and slammed Mixer right in the arm.

Mixer clutched his bruised bicep. “Ow!”

The racket summoned Seneka and Hero from the kitchen.

Seneka was the first to intervene. “What’s goin’ on over there?”

Kang’ju pointed at Mixer accusingly. “Mixer took my computer!”

Hero folded his arms. “Kang’ju.” He pointed very paternal eyes at her. “What did I tell you, huh? What did I tell you about slappin’ folks??”

She lowered her head and said a well-rehearsed line. “You gotta warn them first.”

“That’s right,” nodded Hero. “Now let’s try this again.”

Kang’ju perked back up. “Mixer, if you don’t give me my computer back, I’m gonna pop you!”

“Hero,” sighed Seneka, heading toward the child. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Hero asked. “He took her damn toy. She was protecting her property.” He gave Kang’ju an encouraging nod.

Seneka lifted Kang’ju up and into her arms. “She ain’t your child!” She looked at Kang’ju, bouncing her butt on her arm. “I think somebody’s just a little tired and grumpy. Let’s get you to bed.”

“No, no, no,” said Hero, hurrying over. “I’m putting her to bed. You don’t do it right.”

“What do you mean, I don’t do it right? I can put her pajamas on and help her brush her teeth—”

“You never read her a damn story.”

“I can read her a story.”

“Give me the little girl, goddammit!”

As Kang’ju was transferred from a reluctant sister to her stubborn brother, her eyes were stuck on Olivia. Olivia attempted a semi-honest smile.

“Oh, sorry, Kang’ju, this is Olivia.” Hero tried to turn her toward Olivia, but the little girl just buried her face into his shoulder. “Come on, say hi to Olivia.”

Kang’ju leaned her face toward Hero’s ear. “Why is she so pretty?”

Hero laughed. “Uhh…” He smirked and looked at Kang’ju. “Because she’s an angel.”

Kang’ju looked straight at Olivia’s face, her gaping mouth and two enormous eyes forming wide, stunned circles.

“Come on,” Hero laughed. “Let’s go to bed.”

As they marched up the stairs, Kang’ju’s eyes never left Olivia. Seneka went after them.

“I’m gonna make sure you ain’t teaching her any more stupid stuff…”

They bickered the whole way up.

Olivia looked back toward Mixer and Ace. “There’s a child in this house? Something about that doesn’t seem right.”

“The flowers are working the block tonight,” explained Ace, who was now comfortable on the couch watching Mixer’s game. “She’s Pansy’s.”

Beep.

Olivia’s stomach lurched over the idea—that little girl’s mom was a prostitute. Her mommy was a prostitute, living in a housing project. On that note, Olivia couldn’t figure out why those girls still lived in the projects. All these guys managed to get out, and from what she’d seen and heard so far, those girls worked a hell of a lot harder than they did.

“The girls make good money, don’t they?”

“Well…” Ace chuckled. “Hero makes good money, yeah.”

Olivia looked at them blankly. “What, the girls don’t keep much of what they make?”

Mixer looked right back at her. “The girls don’t keep any of what they make.”

Ace glanced at Mixer and they coupled in amusement. Olivia searched their faces for any indication that they were joking, and though they were clearly in good spirits, it seemed like they were just tickled by Olivia’s naiveté.

“Yeah,” said Ace, “does the mop get paid for cleaning the floor for you?”

Olivia’s chest tightened into a red-hot knot. “But they aren’t mops, Ace, they’re human beings.”

“Yeah,” agreed Ace. “Human beings that Hero paid for. In cash. ” There it was, like it was the most obvious concept since putting one foot in front of the other.

Trafficked in from my country. He’d said something about it before, but it didn’t feel real then. She sat on the couch in a thoughtful daze as she waited for Hero to return, berate her for something stupid, and probably take her on a trivial errand for no apparent reason.

She ended up sitting at his table in the basement, watching him rubber band stacks of money. Counting. Rubber banding. Taking notes. Counting. Rubber banding. Taking notes. Over and over again. Counting. Rubber banding…

“Uh… Hero?”

“Hm?”

“Why am I down here?”

He looked up at her with honest puzzlement. “What, you don’t want to be down here?”

“Well, it’s not like that, I just, I don’t know. I’m just sitting here. There’s no party, no one to see me with you. I don’t get why you invited me over.”

“Well, fine, you can go,” he grumbled. “You never stay anyway.”

“Hero! I’m just asking why I’m here, it’s a totally legitimate question, given the circumstances.”

A series of loud thumps and scurrying feet came from upstairs. He looked up with the sharp shock of alarm, but rose to his feet with nothing but the sting of a routine irritation.

“Shit, what the fuck now?”

Olivia followed Hero upstairs, just in time to see Mixer, Ace, and a couple more of Hero’s boys putting an Asian kid, mid-twenties, into a chair in the kitchen. He was wounded, and it was bad. His arm was gushing blood—literally gushing—like a park fountain, quickly forming a puddle on the floor.

“What happened to you man!?” cried Mixer as he got the kid seated.

A gust of Hero flew into the room. “Mixer, later. Let’s get him over the sink.” Hero’s boys helped him position the boy’s wound over the drain. He looked at Ace. “You hold him up.” He moved to a drawer and pulled out a knife. “Chag’ya, get me a pair of socks.”

Olivia froze. The spectator was forced into participation.

“Chag’ya!” Hero repeated. “Get me some goddamn socks!”

She dashed upstairs and returned with a pair from Ace’s drawer. Hero unfolded the socks and tossed one aside.

“Say ‘ah,’” said Hero, putting a rolled sock into the kid’s mouth. “Now this is gonna hurt like a motherfucker, try not to scream.”

Hero shoved the knife into the bullet wound and the kid’s face went fire engine red, his skull trembling like an overworked engine, a shrill scream of torment pressing through the makeshift gag.

“Mixer, get me some liquor,” said Hero.

“I got you.” Mixer grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the pantry.

“Alright, Diamond,” said Hero. “You best be thinkin’ real happy thoughts right about now.”

Hero poured the bottle onto Diamond’s arm – inspiring an animal-like roar. Olivia tried not to look, but it was a useless effort. The sheer brutal, visceral reality of that moment demanded every bit of her attention.

“Will you keep it the fuck down?” Hero scoffed. “I got Pansy’s little girl here—” He looked past Olivia, toward the stairs. He wasn’t enthused by what he saw, but he also wasn’t surprised. “No, go on baby, go back to bed.”

Olivia turned around and saw Kang’ju, standing as still as a statue, clutching her ballerina doll below her chin.

“I got her.” Olivia went for the stairs and took Kang’ju’s hand. “Come on, where’s your room?”

Kang’ju guided her down the hall to the door at the very end. She pushed it open, and led Olivia into the master bedroom. It was wide and spacious, with shiny hardwood floors and a set of perfectly polished, mahogany furniture around a catalogue-ready four-post bed. It was pretty much a no-brainer that this was Hero’s room.

A tiny pink air mattress lay ready on the floor and Kang’ju climbed into it by herself, but she waited for Olivia to pull up the blanket for her.

“You uh… you just stay up here, okay?” Olivia was nervous. She had as much skill with children as she did in a kitchen. “The guys down stairs are dealing with something pretty heavy, so… just stay here and you’ll be safe, okay?”

“Olivia?”

“Hm?”

Kang’ju pulled the blanket to just below her chin. “Are you really an angel from heaven?”

Olivia nodded, unsure of what else to do. “Sure.”

Even with such an innocent face, she twisted her mouth into a suspicious expression. “Why you come down here then?”

Olivia responded with barely more than a defeated sigh. “I, uh…” She could still hear Diamond, wrestling with his pain. “I don’t know.”

Stone could see the entire city from the top of his hill, moving and breathing, a sea of light and energy. If he wanted to, he could sit and count every lit window of every skyscraper of Monarch Hills, or follow a car with his eyes across the Interstate, left with a dream of where the car might be going. Or a dream of where he might end up if he followed it. But all he could follow was Hero.

Stone sat alone. No guests tonight, just alone.

He picked a dandelion, but he didn’t blow on it. Kids blow on dandelions to make wishes, but Stone wasn’t a kid anymore. A dandelion was a weed, an infection, and all that blowing on it accomplishes is spreading that infection. Maybe people would be better off not making wishes.

Stone put the dandelion down and dreaded going home.

Ding, dong. Another night, another party, and another commanding text from Hero informing Olivia that she was expected to make an appearance. She forced a happy bounce into her heels, thinking happy thoughts. What crazy shenanigans would those crazy Blades be up this time? The adventure never ended. There was always something new to see, something new to learn… but for reasons she was trying not to think about, the excitement she once felt was turned into a nagging, sometimes beeping worry.

Stone opened up for her. “Oh. It’s you.”

“You could at least pretend to be happy to see me,” said Olivia. She held up a grocery bag. “I brought Hennessy!”

Wildcard happily took the bottle off her hands as Stone returned to the kitchen table. The criminal quartet was in the middle of a poker game.

“Why do you hate me so much when I show you nothing but love?” Olivia asked Stone, leaning on the counter and opening a beer.

“I don’t hate you,” murmured Stone.

“Yes you do,” said Olivia. “And it’s a shame, because I really like you.”

“That’s real precious, O.”

“It is, so why don’t you give the attitude a rest every once and a while?”

“Look, woman, we’re trying to play a game here, so why don’t you run along?”

Run along? Honestly? Perhaps this was the moment when Olivia was officially through with Stone’s sour pickle bullshit.

She jerked out a chair and planted her butt in it. “I want to play.”

Stone smirked. “What, you play poker now?”

“I do,” said Olivia. “Deal me in.”

The collective look from the four boys called for an awkward pause, but Olivia didn’t miss a beat.

“I don’t have any cash on me, but I do have my jewelry,” she said, beginning to remove her necklace. “This is John Hardy, and I would say it runs for about eight hundred dollars. I would guess my earrings cost my dad about a hundred fifty. You may not get that much on the street, but I’m letting you know what I’m putting on the table.”

Confusion and tension were battling for control of the room.

“You ain’t even seen your hand yet,” Stone pointed out.

“That’s why they call it gambling,” she said.

Stone gave a permitting ‘whatev’ of a shrug, and the poker procedure commenced. Everyone got their hands and Stone laid out the flop. Four of clubs. Eight of hearts. Three of diamonds.

Olivia looked carefully at her hand, and she was in business. She had a three of clubs, five of clubs, and the subsequent six. If the turn was a seven, she had it. That said, she was sitting with four other players, so the cards were spread out pretty thin. The kings and queens were out there somewhere, and she certainly didn’t have them.

They placed their bets, and Stone placed the turn next to the flop. Seven of clubs, glory hallelujah. Olivia silently rejoiced.

Until Stone went all-in. Everything he had, right there on the table, a good few hundred bucks. He was cold. Expressionless. So very Stone.

“Fuck this shit,” said Wildcard. “I fold.”

“Me too,” said Mixer.

“I’m out,” added Ace.

Olivia put her shoes on the table. “Manolo Blahnik leather ankle boots. Nine hundred dollars.”

The boys stared at Stone like basketball fanatics, waiting to see the free throw that would call the game.

Stone first tapped his chin, and then tilted his head. “So it’s like that then?”

Olivia just smiled. She knew what he meant; she had called his bluff this time, and next time, it wouldn’t be a poker game.

His sternness melted. He put his cards on the table. He had an eight of diamonds and an eight of spades. Three of a kind.

Olivia slapped her straight on the table, and the tension-tangled trio finally exhaled.

“Thank God.” She collected her winnings with a straight face. “My Dad would have killed me if I had gambled off that necklace.”

Once the game ended, Olivia had her shoes on and her purse was stuffed full of money. The regular crowd was floating around the house and Hero made his classic fashionably late entry.

He stood behind her chair. “Uh, chag’ya?”

Olivia turned to him and smiled. “Yes, o eternally unsmiling one?”

“Why is your handbag stuffed full of money?”

“I whored myself,” she said matter-of-factly. “But technically speaking, you aren’t my pimp, so it’s all mine.”

“Shit, Hero, you shoulda seen it!” cried Mixer. “She fucking owned Stone, that shit was epic!”

“What do you mean, she owned Stone?” interrogated Hero.

“Texas hold ‘em,” said Stone. He looked at Olivia. “She won, fair and square.”

Hero looked at Olivia, lowering his voice so no one else in the kitchen could hear. “I didn’t hire you to play games. The last thing we need is people seeing you put one over on Stone.”

Ace rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Christ, Hero will you lighten the fuck up? You need to get laid. You and Stone both.” He spoke to the guests. “Will somebody get this man a cookie?”

“Yeah, Hero!” said Mixer, standing up and getting in his hy’ung’s face. “Turn that frown upside down!” He pressed his fingers into the corners of Hero’s mouth, forcing them upward.

Hero jerked the kid’s hands away and looked at Olivia. “Whatever, look, just take your money go home.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, you’re off early tonight.”

She looked to the boys for some sort of backup, but such backup didn’t come. They did, however, look just as confused as she was.

With a small huff and a puff, she pulled her purse up her shoulder and stood up. “Asshole.”

“Whoa, hold up.” Ace rushed to put his hand on Olivia’s shoulder, stopping her mid-stride. “If Olivia’s off, she’s on her own time now, right?”

Hero frowned.

Ace put on a cartoon grin. “Hey, O! You’re off for the night, ain’t you?”

She caught on quick. “Why, yes, Ace, it seems I am!”

“Well I’m having a sweet party at my house tonight, wanna come?”

Olivia smiled and looked at Hero. “I’d love to!”

Ace took a pause for effect, and then exploded into a bigger, dumber smile, arms outstretched. “Yay! You made it!”

“I did! Yay!”

Ace put his arm around here. “Come on, let’s go get into some trouble.”

Hero grabbed his brother’s shoulder. “Ace, what the fuck are you doing? I have to go 8th to—”

“Well, she’s off tonight, so she’s not going with you,” said Ace with a schoolyard bounce to his words.

Hero’s mouth trembled with boyish rage. “She better not have a black eye when I get back.”

Ace was still grinning.

Olivia got caught up in an epic racing game battle with Mixer and Ace. Eventually, after a record-breaking streak of ass-kicking, Olivia got stuck with a controller in her hand as the two boys took turns in trying to take her down. It was proving more and more to be a useless endeavor.

Wildcard came in. “Hey guys! Look what I got.”  He pulled out a plastic bag full of white powder out of his pocket.

“Shit, you still got product?” said Ace.

“There’s plenty to go around,” said Wildcard, shaking the bag in Olivia’s face. “Want a taste? Huh? Huh?”

Olivia pursed her lips and looked at Ace. “I don’t know. Hero would be pretty pissed.”

“What the fuck ever,” said Ace. “Hero’s always gonna be pissed. In fact, you should do it just to piss him off.”

Wildcard started cutting lines on the coffee table. “Me… Ace… Wildcard…Olivia…”

Olivia’s tummy did flip-flops. “Is it dangerous?”

“Fuck no,” said Ace. “We ain’t in the business of killing people.” He jutted his jaw to the side and looked back at Wildcard. “Usually.”

“What does it do to you?” Olivia asked.

“It makes you fall in love, chemically speaking,” said Ace. “It’s like it takes your brain and squeezes out all the good shit all at once, like a sponge.”

Mixer chuckled. “Yeah, like a happy sponge.”

“I don’t know…” Olivia was moving dangerously close to the lines. “I’ve never done drugs before.”

“Olivia,” said Ace, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Can you imagine what Hero would do to me if I fucked you up?”

She didn’t need to answer that.

Blue line. Red line. Blue line… red line… Beep.

She snorted the line.

Black…white…black…white…white…white…

A wash… the air was singing through her ears, captivating her in its warm embrace. She grasped the carpet, and it tickled her skin, inviting her weak grasp and pulling her down toward it. The music was more than audible, more than a feint background stimulator—it was inside of her, it was gnawing at her belly with candy teeth. She didn’t notice she was smiling until her cheeks hurt, and she didn’t remember where she was until she looked up. Mixer, Wildcard, and Ace were all sitting on the floor around her.

“O…livia-are…you…ou…o…kay…?”

She looked up at Mixer. His face was so perfectly arranged—his eyes, nose, and mouth so perfectly placed around his apple cheekbones and pointed chin. She reached out and trailed her fingers down his jaw line. “Mixer!” She leaned in close to his face. “Look into my eyes.”

“Okay, she’s back. She’s back.” He laughed and gave her a big hug. They swayed together for what felt like a welcomed eternity.

“What’s happening to me…” Her mouth was buried into his shoulder. The cotton of his shirt was her friend. The warmth from his skin soaked through the thread to greet her face.

Ace sat down behind Mixer and looked into her face. “Don’t worry. I know it’s weird at first, but bliss doesn’t make shit foggy like most drugs. It makes things really clear.”

She heard words, but the meaning she interpreted didn’t come from them. She was too hypnotized by the water deep in his eyes, washing and crashing, a giver of life turning destructive. His eyes couldn’t make up their mind—they harbored peace but were aflame with violence.

Voices were speaking, but they didn’t start or end. They just flowed and fluctuated. She didn’t feel like she was speaking, but still she said, “Are you guys my friends?”

Every movement was a dance, every motion fit with a rhythm—like everything intangible was a puzzle piece. A skinny girl in a pink shirt wandered across the floor, her arms covering her stomach…

 “You don’t take shit from nobody, for real—you’re totally cool for a chick, yo!” Wildcard’s voice moved up and down on such a beautiful rhythmic track, it was like everything he said was a song.

Eyes were giveaways, true windows to the soul, any flashing glimpse was enough. Two boys talk, the boy with the shaved head in the green jacket keeps looking away… he’s thinking about something else…

“Yeah. You’re weird, but you’re cool weird! And you listen, a lot of people don’t do that.” Mixer’s face was so close to her body, she could feel his words reverberating in her chest.

 

Time forgot about Olivia, and she found herself within a group embrace. A series of warm, soft arms participated in a drug-induced group hug, never beginning and never ending. Olivia was washed onto a shore of emotion, of appreciation, loving every grain of sand in her toes.

“No matter what happens, let’s be best friends with Olivia forever, okay?” said Mixer. “Okay!?”

The girl in the shimmering purple shirt is following her boyfriend everywhere… she doesn’t stand up straight… she keeps tugging on her shirt…

“I’ve been chasing that girl around for a minute…” Wildcard was talking about Seneka. “…and if she hadn’t seen me all up on you like that and got—gotten-got jealous like she done—did, I woulda never had that—you know what I’m saying? Like… you made it happen. You made that shit possible. Like fate or some shit…”

Olivia broke out of the hug. “I want to see Stone.”

“No, don’t,” said Ace. “He will kill your high.”

“No he won’t,” said Olivia. “I’m going.”

She swam through the kitchen crowds, unable to stop grinning. She smiled at everybody and everybody smiled back. She enjoyed the sound of the sliding glass door, a subtle, sharp whoosh, as she greeted the great outdoors. She looked at every social circle, soaked up the humanity. So many eyes, so many stories. So many oceans, and fires, and landscapes, and worries.

Trance music was playing, and with every synth sting, she was buried deeper by her pleasure, willingly crushed by it. She had to stop, close her eyes and give it her full attention. Those sounds…

“Hey.” Stone turned her around. “Are you okay?”

“Stone! I was looking for you.”

Didn’t take him long to see what was up. “Oh, Christ.”

“I wanted to find you—”

“Who fucked you up? Was it Wildcard? Goddammit, what am I gonna do with you…”

“Stop it,” said Olivia, managing a fragment of anger. “I am not fucked up. I see things pretty clearly right now. I’ll prove it.”

She turned him toward the guy with a shaved head and a jacket. “That guy just lost something really important to him and he can’t wait to get out of here and deal with it. I’m guessing it was money.”

She turned Stone to his three o’clock. “That girl in the pink shirt hasn’t eaten in days. Maybe her boyfriend said she was fat, maybe she wants to be a model, I don’t know, but she’s hungry. When she’s done with her drink, she’s gonna throw it up. Watch for it.”

She turned him to six o’clock to a girl in the shimmering purple shirt and her boyfriend with the gelled hair and an Ed Hardy shirt. “He’s abusive. I’m pretty sure he beats her.”

“Whoa, stop right there,” said Stone, grasping her shoulders. “You’re just making shit up. You’re on drugs, and bliss doesn’t make people psychic.”

“I’m not psychic,” said Olivia. “Look—she has not left his side since she got here. She hasn’t talked to anyone…”

“Daniel does not beat Haze. I would know about it. I’ve never seen her with a black eye or nothing like that.”

“He doesn’t hurt her where you can see, he’s smarter than that,” said Olivia. “Look, she keeps tugging on her shirt. Whenever he looks her direction, she pulls the right side of her shirt down, I’m guessing to hide whatever he did to her.”

It was around this time that pink shirt girl put her hand over mouth and made an attempt for the door.

“Oh, there ya go,” said Olivia. “She’s gonna puke.”

The girl upchucked right into one of Hero’s flower beds.

“Echh,” Olivia said. “At least she didn’t do it on the carpets.”

Stone looked at the vomiting girl for a second, but quickly moved his eyes to Haze. She pulled the side of her shirt down again.

He looked at Olivia but tilted his head toward Haze. “You sure about this?”

“Absolutely,” said Olivia.

Stone moved toward the couple.

“Hey, Stone!” said Daniel. “How’s it—”

Without a word of warning, Stone lifted the side of Haze’s shirt. There was a long, tightly pressed gauze bandage there. Stone looked at Daniel disapprovingly before giving it a sharp tug.

“Jesus.” Stone winced.

He was looking at a shocking burn wound, scaling the side of Haze’s body. White, yellow, red, and puss ridden, a once blistered burn had sizzled and popped. The burned-in beauty logo gave away the story – a curling iron had been pressed and held firmly against her skin for a good, long while.

“Daniel, what the fuck is this?” asked Stone.

“It ain’t what it—Stone I—”

Stone looked at Haze. “How long has this been going on?”

“Don’t hurt him,” said Haze. “Please—he didn’t—he didn’t…”

Olivia watched with a satin smile as Stone calmly and politely informed Daniel it was time to leave. Daniel didn’t put up a fight, he just lowered his head as he was quietly escorted, and Olivia, crumbling deeper into the euphoria of accomplishment, wondered what his punishment would be.  A couple Blades boys guided a weeping Haze into the house after Stone said something about ‘providing accommodations for her as soon as possible.’

She could see Hero come out of the house, looking back in confusion as Haze and Daniel were moved through. Stone took his arm and pulled him aside, bringing his face in close to give him the quiet news. Hero nodded, and looked back… But Stone wasn’t done speaking. He wasn’t done at all, but once he was, Hero looked straight at Olivia.

“Oh, shit.” He nearly fell into a run when he went to her. He grabbed her chin. “Fuck, what’s he done to you now?”

“I don’t have a black eye,” she said in sing-songy way.

“Fuck, I gotta get you out of here.” He grabbed her arm. “You’re fucked up. Come on, we’re going!”

He pulled her through the kitchen and toward the living room.

“Fuck you!” she cried. “I may have just saved a girl’s life—I am not fucked up!”

“I won’t have you around my associates in this condition, chag’ya.”

She jerked her arm out of his grasp and pushed him onto his armchair, all his weight thrown helplessly backward. She pushed him with not only viciousness, but what was unmistakably desire. She got on top of him.

“Stop this right now. I’m serious—”

“You’re blinking a lot,” she smirked. “Do you realize that?”

His pulse quickened. “I’m not joking around with you.”

She grasped his wrists and pressed them into the arms of his chair. “I’m not joking either. Stop trying to control me all the time. I’m off duty.”

He wiggled his arms, but he was as locked into his seat just as his eyes were locked into hers.

She leaned into his ear. “You know what I’ve wanted to do… ever since I met you?”

He frowned, half curious and half apprehensive. “What?”

She gripped his arms until her knuckles went white. “Hit you in the face.”

He snickered. “Then do it.”

Big mistake. She wound her arm back and released, her hard knuckles side-swiping his jaw so hard his head went sideways. He let out a throaty roar, rich with both pain and anger, lifting his now free hand to epicenter of the damage.

Now fully fueled by a certain boundless fury, he pushed her off him, grabbing her arm tightly, and marching her up the stairs. She didn’t resist, she just laughed and laughed all the way to his bedroom.

He pulled her inside, slammed the door shut, and pinned her against it, grabbing her by the wrists and holding her arms above her head.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do about you? You’re completely out of control.”

“Oh my God…” she said softly. “You liked it.”

“What?”

“When I hit you… you liked it. You want to be punished.” Deep in the chasm of his pupils, she saw the pleasure swirling. In and out, fluctuating, breeding, flourishing.

“Oh, Hero, what did you do?” Her voice floated like feathers off the tip of her tongue. “What have you done that makes you hate yourself so much… that you feel you have to punish yourself this way?”

“Stop, you’re just rolling.” She could taste his frustration. It tasted like strawberries and whipped cream, a slightly sour sweet engulfed in a friendly, scrumptious cloud. The swirl in his eyes cracked, like tiny shards of glass, biting into her gaze and clawing at her attempt to break him.

“I think you hurt someone,” said Olivia. “I think you hurt a woman.” The shards of glass erupted into tiny fireballs, brewing hotter and reaching across his amber irises. “Now you want a woman to hurt you back.”

The fire in his eyes recoiled, engulfed in a milk of sadness. “Why do you think that?”

“I can see it,” she whispered. “I can see you.” His burning soul danced for her, a brilliant ballet in his blazing eyes. “Tell me the truth. Did you hurt a woman?”

He exhaled sharply. “I did.”

He put his hand on her cheek and stroked her jaw with his thumb, the lightning shock of sensation tumbling across her skin, and he tilted her chin up toward his. She closed her eyes, a coo of a moan floating from her mouth as her skin soaked up the warm tickle of his breath like afternoon sunrays.

“I can’t give into this,” he whispered.

“Kiss me,” she begged. “Please kiss me.”

“I don’t want the first time I kiss you to be while you’re fucked up.”

She put her hand on his faultless, statuesque chin, pressing her thumb onto his plush, pink bottom lip. He closed his eyes as she gently pulled down and looked at his tightened teeth. The warm, quickening breath from his nostrils grazed her fingers.

“You’re more of a drug than bliss ever could be,” she said. “You’re poison, and I’m fucked up on you.”

He cupped his hand over hers and looked into her eyes. His primal heat was alive there, sparkling in a beautiful array of reds and oranges with shimmering highlights and mystifying shadows. She internalized every varying shade of his humanity, his passion, his brilliant complexity, and in that optical embrace, he invited her inside and held her there, almost against her will.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said. “The girl, she…”

Beep.

Swirling… crashing… dying… dead. Her heart… it wouldn’t stop beating. Pounding. Faster… faster… and faster… to the point of pain. She clutched her chest as a demon tried to claw its way out. Her heart, it was breaking. Literally breaking.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Hero…” Her voice was barely a whisper—if she spoke, the energy it would have taken might have made her heart explode. “Something… is wrong.”

Tags: Ace, Hero, Kang'ju, Mixer, Olivia, Olivia's Point of View, Seneka, Stone, Stone's Point of View, Wildcard

This entry was posted on Sunday, August 16th, 2009 at 7:26 pm and is filed under The Story. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.