Page 9 of Virginity Sold

The temperature has dropped a few degrees as the wind picks up, whipping around my body as the gravel crunches beneath my boots. This place is so depressing, but it’s the only place I feel close to them.

My breath hitches as I step onto the grassy knoll, moving straight to the two granite headstones underneath the large Red Maple tree, full of bright shades of red leaves that will eventually litter the ground come fall, making a delightful crunch underfoot as you step on them. I always think of it as my parents’ very own security alarm alerting them of visitors. It was my mother’s favorite kind of tree, so I made sure their final resting place was under one.

Today marks a year since the fucking drunk bastard brutally took them from us. Who drives drunk, anyway? My family fully planned to handle him outside of the court system, delving out our very own brand of punishment, but the fucker disappeared, and we haven’t been able to locate him since. Not for a lack of trying. It’s like he vanished off the face of the earth.

Stepping up to their graves, I drop down to my knees, the dampness of the ground seeping through my jeans, sending a chill up my body.

“Hey Mom, Dad. How have you been? It’s been a year today; can you believe it?” I talk to them as if they can hear me. It seems pointless because they can’t reply.

My mind has always wondered if this whole hell and heaven thing is real. Do we really ascend to this amazing place in the sky where there’s no pain and happiness prevails? Or do we go the opposite direction where we burn, doomed to live an eternity of torture?

Our family isn’t made up of law-abiding, god-fearing citizens. We maim, kill, and take great pleasure in doing so. Our moral compass is always spinning.

My mother, though, she was an angel. Somehow my uncle Liam and my grandparents shielded her, even Dad did when he married into the family.

“I’m going to be twenty-two soon, can you believe it? Killian and Uncle Liam are taking me under their wings and teaching me all the aspects of the business. I’ve even gone out on some meetings.”

I let my fingertips dance along the grass, reveling in its thin and frail texture. It tickles everywhere it makes contact with my skin. Gripping some in my hand, I pull it from the ground. It doesn’t take much effort since the soil is moist.

My eyes drift to the flowers sitting at their headstones, and I scold myself for not bringing more. The ones adorning it now are withered and dying. I’ll bring some fresh ones tomorrow. My mother loved flowers, and we vowed to always have some on their graves. We knew it would make her happy.

A tingle shoots through me, hitting my cock, as my phone vibrates in my pocket, dangerously close to my member. Standing up, I pull it from my pocket and see it’s a message from Killian.

Kill: I know you’re at the cemetery but we need to meet Uncle Liam in 40 minutes at his office.

Kill: Want me to pick you up?

Me: Nah, I have my bike. I’ll see you there.

Kill: Bike? In the rain? We’ve talked about this.

Me: It’s not raining now Kill. I’ll be fine. See you soon.

I slide the phone into my pocket and blow out a deep breath. Killian’s become such a worry wart when it comes to me. Maybe it’s that it was raining the night of our parents’ accident or that the jerk who hit them was released from jail and disappeared before we had a chance to do anything. The only thing we had was a name.

Killian and I wanted to go on a murdering rampage, but Uncle Liam held us back, saying the right time and payback would make itself known. We just had to be patient and let it come to us.

“I’ve got to go meet Kill, but I’ll be back,” I tell my parents, kissing my hands before placing them on each of their cold granite headstones. “I love you.”

I turn on the balls of my feet and rush away, holding back my tears. I still can’t believe they’re gone. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to find that asshole and make him pay.

Stepping up to my sleek black Kawasaki Ninja 1000 SX, I take hold of the handlebar and swing my leg over the seat, planting my feet firmly on the ground before sitting down. I pull my helmet off from where it’s hanging on the other handlebar and slide it on.

Time to see what Uncle Liam wants. I rev the engine before racing out of the cemetery, only easing off the gas when I see a funeral taking place. It hasn’t been that long since I stood where they are and watched as they lowered my parents in the ground. The worst day of my life.

I weave in and out of traffic, laughing, getting my share of horn honks and angry screams. The adrenaline is the only thing that makes me feel alive. Tempting death and flipping the middle finger to the grim reaper. He can have me after I’m done avenging my parents.

Pulling up to Uncle Liam’s house, I wave to the guards in the shack, who immediately open the gate. No one wants to keep a Sartori waiting. Not if they want to live to breathe another day. I see Killian’s beat me here. His steel gray 1974 Plymouth Barracuda parked out front of the massive cream and white home that is way too bright and cheery for the likes of my uncle.

I park my bike beside Killian’s car and take off my helmet, waving to James, the head of the grounds staff, before getting off and heading up the steps to the front door. Gripping the handle, I take a breath and open the door, knowing I’m going to see a large picture of my parents in the foyer.

It guts me every time. It’s from a photoshoot Liam had done of them for their twenty-ninth wedding anniversary. An elaborate party that went on well into the early hours of the morning. My parents, still love birds after all that time, slipped away during the festivities without anyone noticing. How many people can get married at nineteen and still be in love that many years later? The gut-wrenching part of their death was finding out she was pregnant. With how far along she was, it had to be a product of their love that night.

“Uncle Liam, Kill, where are you?” My voice echoes through the home. I’m pretty positive they’re in Uncle Liam’s office, but a person can never be too sure and this place is too big to go hunting for them. It’d be like looking for a virgin in a nightclub.

No one answers, so I choose to head to the kitchen first. Liam’s cook, Amalia, makes the best food and I’m starving. If she doesn’t have anything made, she’ll pull out the stops to make her favorite boy something. If cougars got my dick hard, I’d have her bent over the counter fucking her in a heartbeat while I ate one of her homemade meatballs.

“You owe me a thousand bucks, Uncle Liam. Told you he’d hit the kitchen before anywhere else.” Killian’s laughter rings out as Amalia turns from the stove, plate in hand. Wouldn't you know it? Spaghetti and her homemade meatballs.

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