Page 16 of Deceit

I mean, he almost looks like the crypt keeper. There are so many wrinkles on his face he should use them to his advantage and stash his old drug of choice, cocaine, in them. Shit, if his lips weren’t moving, I’d actually have to look for them centered between saggy cheeks.

“Regardless—“ I lean down and fan the smoke over his face. “—you’re here, and I told you never to come back. Or it’d cause you more than what you’re willing to give up.”

“Fuck you,” he sneers through his crooked teeth. “Last time I checked, you’re no king over this shitty ass trailer park, boy.”

Boy.

It sears my ears, and I can feel them redden.

“Don’t need to be,” I convey.

Bubba readjusts his weight, grunting at the extra forty-some-odd pounds he threw on over the last two decades. “Listen, I’m not here to start any trouble.”

“Sure about that?” I flick my Zippo lighter, watching the tall flame dance and come to life. “I can practically hear your heartbeat racing from here.”

I watch him twist his somber expression into one that looks more familiar—irritated, entitled, a poor excuse for a human being.

Bubba always had a problem with touching things that weren’t his. For going against the grain of personal space and getting what he wanted when he believed he deserved it. I was able to ward that off, keep my brother and sister safe and away from his demented hands.

Still, it came with a hefty price tag and my whole life shifting into a black abyss that I’ve never found my way out of.

However, the tables have turned—in my favor. I’m brawn and irritable while he’s a twelve-pack of beer and has snorted half his brain cells out of his damn head over the years.

“What do you want?” Bubba snaps as though I’m wasting his time here. He gives one more tug to his zip-tied hands, giving his luck another go. “You wanna kick my ass? Beat up an old man over some shit that happened forever ago?”

“Beat you up?” I repeat. “Nah, I’ll give you a chance to help yourself out. To be fair and all.”

Untwisting a gallon of water that I have sitting next to my brown duffle bag, I walk around him, pouring the liquid out and making a circle in the dirt.

“You gonna do some type of ritual and shit?” Bubba spits out, following me with his eyes. “You religious or something?”

“Or something.”

Tossing the plastic jug, I peer up to the rope that’s hanging from the abandoned billboard I used to sit up on. It overlooks the park of badly needed renovation trailers and the dense woods surrounding it. The place that Scarlett and I would hide and go “camping” for a few days because the man in front of me wouldn’t stop coming over to throw me off and attempt to rape her.

The same spot I would watch Bubba traipse around the park—more like terrorizing it—and I’d wished that I was a sniper that could take him out from up there.

I’ll somewhat get my wish.

“Get it over with then,” Bubba seizes out. “I got shit to do.”

Taking another hit off my nicotine, I glance over the overgrown bushes and trash scattered around from kids, not giving a fuck about littering. They have more important things to worry about, especially if Bubba is stomping the streets again.

“You fucking with my brother the other night?” The words off my lips are rancid at best. They stir up what I’ve done, what I didn’t do, how everything might have been prevented if I would’ve just killed Bubba years ago.

“Me?” he drones. “Not my style.”

“No, you just rape.”

“It ain’t rape if they ask for it. If they want that blow. If they glance at my cock and nod their heads. If they look at me with longing in their eyes and—” The back of my hand slams into the side of Bubba’s face, sending him cowering in my wake.

Everything he just fucking said is bullshit.

All of it.

I wasn’t the only one he touched. He’s the devil in the night that stalked his prey and did it with zero fucks given. And the thing was, he never stopped.

“You’re a delusional fucker, you know that?” I seethe through my teeth. “You should’ve stuck around. I would’ve knocked some reality into you.”

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