Page 22 of Tyrant

To be fair, he was leaning on the guy’s car. He was in the wrong! But it didn’t matter. He grabbed the guy that owned the car and smashed his face into it. I heard the noise even with the distance and through the window.

The guy fell to the ground, definitely knocked out. Then he said something to the guy’s girlfriend or whatever she was. Chased her away.

Pure evil. Or insanity. Or both. Or maybe it was just raw power. I did hear a name from Naya though.

She had offered for me to go outside with her to smoke a joint. I guess Lia is allergic to smoke. I declined the offer. Shortly after coming back inside, washing her hands and spraying herself with enough body spray to make me feel like I had allergies, I heard Naya saying something to Lia aboutTyrant.

Ty.

Tyrant.

If that’s the name… and then I think abouthim…

I can’t read. I slam my book shut and close my eyes. A voice in the back of my head tickles at me, telling me it’s okay to think about him. It’s okay to keep my distance and just enjoy some of that stuff. In other words, it’s okay to fantasize about him.

In his mask. His muscles. That fucking nipple piercing.

Him as this monstrous figure, grabbing my legs, spreading them wide, thrusting his huge cock…

I quickly reach for my phone and my earbuds. I pop my earbuds in and choose some random ambient sounding sleep playlist. Anything to drown out the voice of temptation. Bad enough this evil guy already had a fucking knife to my throat.

Now I’m supposed to fantasize about him fucking me?

Coffee.Banana. And I go for a run. I know he’s going to be there at some point. Following me. Watching me.

I try to pretend it doesn’t bother me. I wonder if and when he sleeps. I also wonder what the fuck the point of this is. What’s the end result of this game? Does he think I’m going break down and beg him to take me? To love me? Like, what is this?

To help silence that voice, I chose a metal playlist for running. I’ll be real—I have no idea who these bands are. Or what these songs are. It’s just loud guitars and screeching andscreaming vocals. The only word I can ever make out when these guys are bellowing is the wordfuck. But the music is heavy, loud, and I focus on running.

The walkways, paths and trails aroundSAare amazing. It’s springtime so all the trees are freshly budding and the grass is coming out of its winter slumber. There’s a crispness to the air that smells like early November, yet at the same time it smells like spring. Of course, in my head I’m thinking about spring as the cliché stuff.

Coming alive againand all that nonsense.

Anything to convince myself that being sent to a place calledSinners Academyis not the end of the world.

I find myself running faster than I normally do. Maybe it’s the music. Or maybe I just want this run over to turn this music off. My legs pump faster. My lungs work harder. My heart races more. My eyes are focused in front of me. In a matter of seconds I forget all about the weather and the springtime and even the nameSinners Academy. It’s just me and the path in front of me.

Wrong!

The voice in my head screams that word just as a figure steps out onto the path. A massive figure, dressed in all black, wearing a black mask. I don’t have time to scream or even try to stop.

The best I can do is throw myself out of the way, just out of instinct of not wanting to crash into the tall figure built with tons of muscle. My arms flail out and my feet collide together. I’m not just going to trip right now. I’m flying through the air.

I turn my head and shut my eyes, not sure if I’m going to smack the ground or go headfirst into a tree.

There’s athudand I stop in midair. With my eyes still shut I feel like I’m floating. When I open my eyes I realize he’s caught me. This masked figure. I can probably bet my life on who this is… Yet I want to know for sure.

His hands are big, strong, and he holds me so easily.

“Fuck you for doing that,” I growl at him. “Getting in my way…Tyrant… right?”

His entire body tenses up. Maybe this isn’t Tyrant? The only way I can figure to find out…?

I take my chance and move my right hand up to his chest. My fingertips exploring, finding his nipple, feeling what is obviously a piercing.

“It is you,” I whisper. “Tyrant.”

“Who the fuck named me?”

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