Page 15 of Sorrow

“I can’t imagine why, they seemed like really upstanding citizens. Artists, even. The work they did on my truck is groundbreaking.”

“Your truck?” I stand up to go see for myself, my jaw tensing at what I find in my front yard. I’m so fucking sick of living in atown run by the wrong people, and how these dicks really get away with shit like this every single day. I’m no saint. I break the law all the time, but I don’t walk around like I’m untouchable.

That’s the kind of shit that enrages me.

When I go back inside, I scarf down some food before I look at her again, finding the same blank expression there. She’s struggling.

“Is Boo gone?”

“Yeah, he left about five minutes before you knocked on my door. Did you see his car out there?” I’m wondering if he caught a ride with someone. She obviously takes it as me being a smartass.

“I wasn’t looking for it. He probably had to go meet the arson investigator, huh?”

“Maybe. He’s also been working like crazy, so who knows? He’s determined to find a way to get those dicks, and I imagine that’s only going to get worse now. You know he isn’t the type to just sit around and let his feelings in. He’ll stay as busy as he can.”

We finish eating a few minutes later, and for a moment, neither of us move from the table.

“He had video surveillance, an eye witness, and physical evidence,” she sayssoftly. “I don’t think he wants to get justice. I think he wants revenge.”

And who are we to tell him he’s wrong? “What do you want?”

“I want my brother to come out of this alive,” she says flatly. “Without him... I’m alone.”

“He will. He has his reasons for being so consumed right now, but he’ll be alright.” It feels weird trying to offer her comfort instead of my usual sorrow, but I’ve also never seen her look more defeated. “Have some faith in him.”

“Faith,” she repeats. “Right.” Samara stands like she’s going to go to her room, then remembers this isn’t her house. “I should go into town. I need... everything.”

“You plan on driving your truck around like that?” I can buff it out. The paint under it is screwed, but it’s better than driving around the way she’d have to otherwise. Not that I care. “Just give me a bit, alright? Clean the kitchen for us and chill by the furnace.”

“Funnily enough, when you have to go to the store because you no longer own a pair of clean underwear or a toothbrush, the words ‘virgin bitch’ don’t cut as deep as they might’ve otherwise. But for once in my life, I’m not in the mood to argue with you.”

She spins, taking the dishes to the sink without a word. Her movements are slow as I rush off to take the piss I’ve been holding. I try not to think about her at all, but while I stand here letting my mind drift away, my eyes lock on the gray cotton panties balled up behind the door. In any other circumstance, I’d yell at her for being a slob, but as I finish up and continue staring down at them, anger isn’t the emotion I’m feeling. In fact, my cock hardens in my pants as soon as I shove it away and wash my hands, but it’s no use.

I can’t go out there like this.

Cursing under my breath, I make a decision I’m not proud of and pick up her panties, palming myself just at the thought of smelling her. When I do, I lose all control. In seconds my cock is back in my hand and I’m growling into the fabric with a huge inhale, then using them for friction as I jack off bracing against my sink.

Most of my focus is on keeping my noise to a minimum, but whether I like it or not, flashes of her move to the forefront of my mind. Her senior year when I realized she wasn’t a kid anymore and the skintight dress she was wearing left little to the imagination. The time I ran into her in their hallwaywearing only a towel after a shower, and her soaked hair dripped down her shoulders in a way that had me stepping in closer when I should have done the opposite. The night she didn’t know I was visiting, and I swear on my life I heard her moan my name through the door. I shouldn’t allow myself to think about her like this. I shouldn’t be thinking of her at all, yet I let myself live in the moment just long enough to flood those panties with a load so huge it seeps through the fabric and drips between my fingers. I don’t even let myself regret it as I continue to stroke myself through it, but when the silent alarm goes off in my head, I vow to never speak of this moment of weakness again. I kind of hate her more for it.

She can never find these underwear. I’ll make sure of it, but if I have to live with her much longer, I might lose my sanity just as quickly as she lost her only pair of panties.

I guess it’s fitting she steals something from me, too.

9

Having clean clothes and basic necessities again makes me feel better. Not much better, but enough that I no longer feel like I’m living underwater.

Cooking in Hayes’ kitchen proves to be a lot nicer than cooking in mine, but whatever kindness he showed me this morning is gone now. He won’t even look at me as I whip up some Tuscan chicken and plate it for him on one of the whitest dishes I’ve ever seen.

I guess he wasn’t kidding that I’m not welcome here.

“I started looking for an apartment,” I lie, just trying to break the silence. “There isn’t much available, but there are a couple down by Potomac that aren’t too expensive.”

It’s the shittiest part of this shitty town, but I don’t exactly have a lot of money. I also realize that my options for employment are limited to say the least.

Beggars can’t be choosers.

He raises an eyebrow. “Potomac? You want to be surrounded by the same type of assholes that tagged your truck?”

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