Page 42 of Biker Boo
I linger in the shadows of the blackened crypts, and sure enough, she’s there.Alone.
She picks up a crumbling piece of an old headstone and hurls it at a tree.It explodes into dust.
“Asshole,” she mutters.I think she means Legend.
But it still lands like a punch.
I take a step forward, just one, and snap a twig.
She whirls around.
“Who's there?”
I don’t speak.Just breathe slow through the mask.I know better now.
She peers into the dark.“You came back…”
She walks closer.
And I vanish again.
October 31 (midnight) “The Wall”
Your voice when you broke
that final sob against stone and sin
it baptized me again.
I kissed you rough
because that’s the only way I know how.
I let you whisper his name
because I’d rather be your mistake
than your nothing.
Chapter 12
Becki
The first thing I notice is the ache.Not pain exactly, just that sweet, stretched soreness that settles into your bones after being fucked like a prayer and punished like a sin.My thighs burn from being wrapped too long around a body that wouldn’t let go.My wrists are tender where they’d been pinned to cold stone.Even my shoulder stings where teeth dug too deep.
The second thing I notice is that I’m alone.
I sit up in bed, wincing.My sheets are twisted, damp with sweat and maybe something more.My body hums from the memory of last night, the rough stone of the church wall against my back, the scrape of a zipper, the press of hands that didn’t care if they bruised me because I begged them not to stop.
I seal my eyes.
I still feel him.
That silence.That hunger.
That ghost of a biker who set me on fire and vanished again.
When I glance down, my Halloween costume is tossed across the chair, skirt stained, the fishnets torn.My boots are near the door, one tipped over like I kicked it off in a hurry.My bra strap is snapped, hanging by a thread.
