Page 204 of Vicious Saint
Voices poof and features return as I jump to my feet, tucking Halo back into my pocket and trudging over to a bottle of whiskey left on the ground.
“Saint, please, bro, don’t!” Gunner begs as I snatch it up, but fuck that guy, my monster’s on a mission.
When I reach Luke, his head’s fallen to the side, not a soul stupid enough to help him while I pour the contents of the bottle up and down his body.
His girlfriend’s cries turn frantic as she spots the lighter I pull from my pocket, even worse as I drop to my haunches and press it to his chest.
“Turns out Halo isn’tmyfavorite way for you to die.”
“Please, please, please,” Alice screeches, proving me wrong about her stupidity as she jets my way.
Levi intercepts the advance, turning her from a deer to lioness. “You psycho piece of shit!” she screams, bringing every ounce of my adrenaline to an abrupt halt.
Because suddenly, it’s Hendrix’s voice that breaks through, reminding me of when she begged me not to hurt Stevenson.
A pussy who didn’t have balls big enough to protect her.
Therefore deserved what he got.
Just like this motherfucker deserves what he’s about to get.
I’m the one who hurt Hendrix first.
Me.
So Ihaveto be the one to make sure no one does ever again.
I have to.
I have to.
I fucking have to!
A vision of Hendrix appears in the distance, bringing forth a deafening crack, making the ground rumble beneath my feet and my lungs collapse.
The pain. The self-hatred. The blistering rage.
They turn the world around us a hazy red.
Look what you did to me, Jimi.
I tell her, swaying.
I’m a fucking mess.
Hendrix moves closer, the red haze not far behind.
Crack.
She reaches her arm out for me.
Crack.
Utters my name.
Crack.
Usually, by now, I’d be steady, breathing and popping pills, begging for an escape from the disaster I know is waiting for me in the haze.
