Page 87 of Vicious Saint
“Dangerous?” I scoff, the prickles on my arms lingering. “Underplaying the situation fucking much?”
Archer’s expression deflates.
“What do you want me to tell you, Hen?”
“You can start with the truth about who the fuck that guy was.”
A few beats pass before he pulls at the roots of his hair. “Fine, fucking fine.”
I cross my arms to wait, trying to settle the wariness in the pit of my stomach.
It takes a lot to keep my best friend from talking.
So, the fact that he’s so hesitant with this is doing nothing to settle my nerves.
“That was Saint, okay, but not the side of him you’ve gotten to know.”
I hate that I can see where this is going, because I’ve got my own reasons for developing many “not exactly’s” with this guy.
Letterman with the souped up knuckles might be a few steps darker than Crazyman from the closet, but I don’t know how to categorize this type of behavior.
Other than animalistic.
But human beings have evolved so much.
And science doesn’t teach three sides of the latest sapien coin.
“I need you to elaborate on this side of Saint, Archer. NOW.”
Before I pass out.
Archer peers over my shoulder, down at the lifeless body, then back at me. “This side, Hendrix…” Sliding his hand down his face, he blows out a breath. “This side is known as Vicious.”
9
Saint
Achair cracks as it hits the wall, scattering the floor with chunks of wood. My father jumps back, shielding Theory from the sharp pieces that land at their feet.
You’re nothing…an unseen Vicious mocks me through a cruel laugh.A weak piece of shit.
A guttural roar breaks past my throat as I pick up the lamp next to the bed, sending it flying and crashing in the direction of his voice.
I look down, the blood of Lance still staining my hands.
So sad and pathetic...
“I hate you, I hate you, I fucking hate you!” My nails scrape the sides of my face repeatedly, until drops of fresh blood trickle to my lips.
You had one job, Saint Matthias.
“No more jobs…” I scream, body shaking, once again allowing my monster to drag me down. “You. I want you…to just go anddie. Fucking die!” My words turn into a distorted mess of sobs as I rock back and forth, ripping strands of hair from my skull.
“Big b-bro…” Theory approaches slowly with arms wide, but my father jerks her back.
As he should.
Monsters, even royal ones, belong in cages.
