Page 1 of Acid

PROLOGUE

ACID

6 months ago

“What can I get you?”the waitress asks.

“Just a coffee, thanks,” I answer.

“You sure you don’t want no pie or soup of the day? It’s tomato. I make it myself,” she beams.

I give her a look. “No, thanks. Just a coffee,” I state firmly. Her smile falls and she turns away, mumbling under her breath. “Sorry?” I ask, knowing full well she wasn’t talking to me. She was just cussing me out under her breath.

Her cheeks heat. “No, just relaying your order so I don’t forget.”

I smile. “You need to repeat my order of coffee?” I ask.

She nods. “I will just get you your coffee,” she says. She pauses to clear her throat, clearly embarrassed.

I smile and look out the window. Like fuck will I be drinking the coffee she brings me now. She has probably spat in it. Thank fuck I ain’t planning on staying in this town more than a night.

I notice a group of kids hanging around outside causing trouble. Nothing huge. Just kicking overt trash cans and being little dicks. I keep my eye on them as they get closer to my bike.They push the smaller kid forward, pointing at my bike as they do.

“Fucking little fuckers,” I growl and jump up from the table.

“What about your coffee?!” the waitress yells after me.

I stop at the doorway. “Respectfully darlin’, fuck the coffee,” I state before storming out of the diner.

I march across the road to where my bike is parked and where the little fuckers are still pushing the smaller kid forward. I cringe as he jumps on to my bike. Hell to the fucking no. You never get on another man’s fucking bike. “Hey!” I yell over the traffic. The smaller kid’s eyes go wide as he jumps down off my bike. The bigger kids laugh, not scared or intimidated that I’m approaching them with a pissed the fuck off look on my face.

“Oh, watch out. There’s a scary man coming,” one of the older ones says in a mocking voice. Little fucker has no idea who he is messing with. I glance around and they are all standing there thinking this is one big fucking joke.

“What in the fuck do you think you are doing with my fucking bike?” I growl. The young lad has the decency to look fucking worried, but the others just laugh. I sigh before I pull out my blade. Their laughter dies, and they finally look fucking scared. “Do me a favour. Can you thick fucks read?” They all nod. I point to my patch with the tip of my blade, watching as they read it.

One of the fuckers shrug. “So, what? You’re in a little gang. My dad’s got a bike, and him and his friends wear the same shit as you, pretending to be part of some biker gang, when they are just pathetic losers,” he mocks.

I smile. “I ain’t disputing your dad ain’t a fucking loser, kid. I mean, you came from his fucking balls and you’re a whiney little cunt. You probably still get fucking breast fed, too.” His mates laugh. I twiddle the blade in my hand. “Now, you little fucks ever come near my bike again, I will come for you when you are sleeping. I will cut you from your throat to your stomach. Do Imake myself clear?” I seethe. The kids don’t even nod or answer, they just run off, all except the small one. He just stands there, staring at me. “What do you fucking want?” I snap. He shrugs and just stares at me. “You got parents? You’re a little young to be hanging around with those dickheads,” I point out.

“I got a mom, and a...” he states, pausing.

“A what?” I smirk. “A dog?” I joke.

“Her boyfriend,” he adds. “My stepdad.”

“Where?” I ask.

He points to a building just down the street. “They’re in there. I’m not allowed back yet.”

I frown. “Well, maybe you should be home, rather than hanging out with dicks like that. Your mom shouldn’t let you just fucking hang around the street. Come on. I will walk you back,” I state.

“You’re not a paedo, are you?” he asks.

I frown. “What the fuck dude. no. I ain’t a fucking paedo. Jesus. Come on.” I snap. “Fucking paedo.’ I tut under my breath.

I walk him down the road to some shitty looking apartments. The kid opens the door and I follow behind him, the smell of piss immediately invading my senses. We walk up to the 3rdfloor and as the kid goes to open the door, I place my hand on his shoulder and shake my head no. I knock loudly and wait for the door to open.

“Er, just a minute,” I hear a woman’s voice call out. She’s probably a junkie hiding her stash. She unlocks the door, and I glance up, noting that her brown hair is covering part of her face, and she’s also wearing sunglasses. She looks down to her son then to me. She sighs. “Oliver, come on in,” she says, holding the door open wider to let him in.

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