Page 106 of Vicious Saint
“You’ll be more than comfortable in Saint’s room, Hendrix,” Vic pushes on. “It has all the essentials and Carlo will be just outside the door to keep the riff raff away.”
All the essentials…
I think long and hard about the lesser of two evils…days in a house full of strangers or days in Saint’s room all alone?
One I know he didn’t have time to empty before disappearing.
One Ialsoknow is a great place to get answers to my questions.
With no limits, disruptions, or evading.
Saint, along with my mom, took it upon themselves to expose all of what I hold sacred—and I’m not just talking my body, my friends, or my drawings.
Every promise she broke and boundary he crossed was done without consequence. One forcing me to embrace this life I don’t want and the other threatening the one I do.
Both hurting me for reasons I don’t understand.
Which is why I deserve the fucking truth.
Even if it means choosing the greater evil to get it.
11
Hendrix
Contrary to belief, Saint’s room is nothing like the red one I imagined. There’s not a photo or magazine of naked chicks, a spare set of panties or bra hanging over the bed, not even traces of body parts from any of his victims.
In fact, besides my two small boxes and duffle still unpacked on the floor, it’s nothing short of immaculate.
Tooimmaculate for an eighteen year old guy if you ask me.
The gray bedspread is made up neatly and folded on a queen sized bed, posters of Giants and Yankee players spread throughout the walls. Even his hats, jerseys, and Jordans are color coordinated and lined up in succession along the inside of his closet.
A very large closet.
To complement the very large space he’s taken up shop in since he no longer has a roommate. It’s clear this room was never meant for students.
Maybe a dorm head. Or faculty members.
Shit, given it has its very own fireplace, couch, and a small kitchen, I’d say it was once meant for a headmaster.
I can’t get over the decor, though.
It’s so…typical teenage boy.
And Saint is anything but.
Rounding his bed, I find Saint’s football helmet taking the place of a lamp at the center of his nightstand. I run a finger over it, the surface so smooth I wouldn’t be surprised if it was polished by hand.
After a few more seconds ofdecoration examination, I plop down on the mattress, Chucks still on my feet as they swing onto the mattress. Looking around the space, I take some time to figure out where to unpack all my shit.
Two weeks is a long time to not have regular access to my things. So, as much as I hate the idea of being here, I guess it’s another room worth making somewhat my own.
Even at ten o’clock.
I’m just finishing piling the last of my clothes on a shelf when heavy knocks come from the door.
“Seriously, Hen?” Archer bursts in the second I open the door, not allowing me to greet him or Bex as they storm inside. “Have you lost your ever loving mind?”
