Page 48 of Property of Necro
“No. It wasn’t. I’m not doin’ anythin’ to fix these.” I shove his hand back at him, along with the slippers. “She can wash ‘em and see if my bloodstains come out.”
Not one to back down even if it’s good for his health, Rot shoves the purple things between my pecs and holds them there. “Or you can ask Mama to wash ‘em, and maybe he can get your bloodstains out.”
I glower at his audacity. “She can do that.”
“No. You can.” Rot turns to Necro and hooks his thumb my way. “Don’t you think he should be the one to do it?”
Necro dips his chin in agreement, and I flip them both off. Fuck them.
Heaving a sigh, I take the stupid slippers and stuff them in my back pocket. “Fine.” It’s not like I gotta figure out how to get the blood out. Mama is an expert at that shit. All I gotta do is ask, and he’ll say yes. Not ‘cause it’s me, but because it’s Sola. Everyone around here seems to either have a hard-on for her or a soft spot. Some of ‘em have both.
Crossing my arms over my big chest, I spare a final glance at Sola and leave the room. Nothin’ good is gonna come of me sittin’ in the room while she sleeps. What a waste of time. Hopefully, she’ll be done borrowing my bed by the time I return. Tiffany’s here. I’ve got business to attend to and other pussies to fuck.
As I take my sweet ass time walking to the chapel, I slap my cock. “We’ve got other whores to fuck, right?” I admonish him for his traitorous behavior. I’ve never gone soft inside a cunt before. Not even when I wanted to.
You know.
Back then.
Helen’s wrinkled face flashes through my mind, followed by Iris’s and her short, indigo hair.
Balling my hand into a fist, I grit my teeth.
Fuck.
Now, I need to kill something.
Chapter
Seventeen
Six Weeks Later
Knees pulled to my chest,I relax my head against the supple leather of my chair in Necro’s office, inhale the deepest breath, expanding my lungs and my belly. I hold it for a count of five and sigh through the exhaustive release.
I’m tired.
My vitamin D is running on E, as is my mental health.
I’ve been here nearly three months and have yet to set foot outside these walls. I stare out the window of Rot’s bedroom every day, watching summer play out without me. I’m a spectator to the world, stuck in Krampus’s snow globe, living life on repeat.
When Coffin returned home, and the messiness of our reunion played out, I assumed things would change for the better. When I woke up in his room, cleaned and patched up, I felt good despite the aches and pains. It took weeks for the bruises, cuts, bite marks, and floor burns to heal.There is still a tiny scar on the inside of my thigh and another in the shape of a C by my pubes. I’m sure both will fade with time.
But… boy, oh boy, was I wrong, thinking anything would be different. I don’t know what’s worse, watching Coffin meltdown and hoping like an idiot we broke through one of his carefully constructed women-hating walls, or now, dealing with our downright volatile relationship—if you can even call it that. Anytime I see him, Tiffany, the new girl, who’s maybe twenty-one, I don’t know, I’m not allowed to speak to her—she’s stuck to him like a barnacle.
Shegets preferential treatment, and don’t even get me started on what that looks like. Just thinking about it pisses me off.
I don’t know what I did to be treated this way, but I’m sick of it. Watching a different woman, a woman not invited here, get treated like a queen while I’m treated as lesser-than hurts. I know it’s stupid. I shouldn’t care. I’ve experienced far worse. At least I’m not being abused, stabbed, or beaten. There’s that, I suppose. I get fed two home-cooked meals a day, breakfast and dinner. I have a snack for lunch. I have sex at least once a day, usually twice. I get to lounge and read and shouldn’t have a care in the world.
But I do.
I care a lot.
I’m bored.
B.O.R.E.D. with a capital B.
I knew it would happen sooner or later.
