Page 613 of Rage

“Don’t move or I’ll do some more decorating,” a velvety voice dances in my ears, and I smile, raising my hands in surrender.

“Don’t shoot, I’m just passing through.” As I turn around, I wince at the sight of her face. “Are you?—”

“I’m fine. Get in the truck,” she demands.

“No.”

“I said get in the truck.” She presses the barrel against my chest and all the blood in my veins rushes to my dick.

“Did you do that?” I ask, nodding to where the bodies lay.

She stays quiet, unwilling to engage.

“Why don’t you just take the fucking truck then?”

“I...” She hesitates, gripping the gun tighter. “I can’t drive a manual.”

I smile, knowing that she needs me.

“Right. Well, it looks like we’re in this together then.”

She gives me a ‘what the fuck’ look and scoffs as she walks to the truck. “Take off that fucking coat, everyone who has a brain can tell you’re not a doctor.”

Climbing into the truck, she still has the gun pointed at me.

“Yeah, this isn’t moving, so deal with it.” She nods to the road. “One wrong move and I’ll shoot you in the fucking dick, now drive.”

Fuck, I should’ve readjusted my cock before getting in.

She is the most exquisite thing I’ve seen, with her scars, bruises and dried blood covering her face. I want to call up my dead mother and tell her I met someone who stole a piece of my crazy. I would say heart, but I fear I may not have one of those.

“Did you kill them?” I ask, starting up the truck.

“Yes, and I’m not afraid to add another to my list, so be quiet.”

Oh mama. She’s bossy.

I fucking love it.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s nowe.” She keeps her eyes on me, and I smile, excited for what I’m about to find out.

Who did that to her face?

Where did she come from and how can I make her touch me?

She goes quiet, and I assume she’s just thinking but when I look over, the gun is now resting on her lap, her hands shaking and the tears just falling from her eyes in silence.

A moment ago, I thought I didn’t have a heart but in this very second, I can feel something beneath my chest move. I want to ask her what happened. However, I don’t want to push her.

“It’s okay, you know,” I speak, hoping some of my words might comfort her.

“What is?” She sniffs, her tears mixing with the blood on her hands as she wipes her cheek.

“To kill.” I keep driving, the empty road, just getting longer and longer. “I’ve done it and I’m going to do it again.”

“What?” She holds the gun firmly with both hands and my laugh bellows through the truck cabin.

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