Page 34 of Inevitable Destruction

He advances toward me, and instead of retreating like my body is screaming at me to do, I, instead, move closer to him until our chests are bumping together, like they were back in the interrogation room.

To my complete and utter surprise, his hand comes to my face, harshly gripping where he sucker punched me. A hiss escapes my lips as he tightens his grasp to the point a steady throb has nestled deep in my jaw. I try to speak through his punishing hold, but I don’t get the chance.

“Your fucking face. So goddamn pretty,” he sneers, only to add, “you look just like him, only younger.” His voice ice cold and filled with apparent disgust. My eyebrows shoot sky high as my eyes bulge.

What—

Lips crash down onto mine—cold, bruising, and wrathful. I let out a yelp of surprise, trying to gain my bearings, but my mouth opening was an apparent invitation. A tongue delves into my mouth, commanding and brutal.

He pulls back almost instantly to growl against my lips. “Fuck.” He dives back in, and this time, the tip of his tongue plays with the bar running through mine.

I don’t know what to do other than stand utterly still and let him use me how he apparently wants to. I’ve never had a man kiss me before, and it’s a… weird feeling.

His beard scratches my face as he licks the inside of my mouth. My bottom lip is suctioned between both of his, and then I feel the edges of his teeth biting into my skin. The sting of the bite has a very specific heat sparking in my groin, and I let out a surprised moan. Those same teeth clamp down on my lip, sinking in further and further until the skin breaks and more of the familiar metallic taste of blood floods my mouth before spilling down my chin and down my neck.

Rhett rips himself away from me with a heaving snarl. He takes several steps back, all the while never taking his eyes off me. It’s not until he’s at least ten feet away that he stops, and all I can do is stare right back, my own breathing at an all-time high along with the boner I’m now apparently sporting if the tightness in my sweatpants is any indication.

A rattling noise pulls me from my trance, and when I glance up, I see something small and orange sailing through the air. My arms fly up to catch the object flying toward me, and when I have it in my hands, I glance down, only to find my own bottle of pills—the same ones I had on me just last night.

My gaze flies up to where Rhett is now retreating back to his motorcycle. Before I can even gather the words to ask what all of this fucking was, he speaks. He seems to always speak over me.

“Don’t take those for granted because once they’re gone, you won’t be getting anymore. At least from anyone but me, that is.” With those parting words, he jumps on his bike and peels out of the cemetery without a backward glance.

What in the actual fucking fuck?!

I keep my eyes pinned to his back as he disappears, then continue to balk at the now empty road, desperately staring like he’s actually going to come back. My mind is reeling, desperate for some sort of reasonable explanation because this… nothing makes sense.

I glance down at the bottle, still halfway full of Oxy’s, same as it was. My fingers find my tender lips, and when I brush the pad of my index finger along my swollen bottom one, I let out a hiss. After tracing the cut his teeth created, I pull my hand back, finding my finger coated in blood.

After wiping my hand across my already dirty pants, I light up another cigarette. Holding it between two of my fingers, I twist off the cap on the pill bottle and bring the plastic tube to my lips. Leaning my head back, I allow a few pills to slide down my throat before I pull the bottle away. The pressure that comes with swallowing them has slowly diminished over the months, and now, only the faintest inkling remains, nestled in the back of my head where I can easily overpower it.

Swallowing the barely resistant lump in my throat, I pocket the bottle and make my way to my parents’ headstone. I plop down on the rain-soaked earth and rest my back against it.

Cigarette in hand, I let my head fall back and stare up at the dense, colorless sky. The wind causes the clouds to swirl and twist in on themselves, merging into one endless blanket across the sky.

Rain drops fall from above, and as I stare longingly at their descent, that’s when I start to feel it.

The warmth.

The numbness.

The nothing.

At the heatwave slowly surging through me, one vein, one limb at a time, I let my eyes flutter closed. The rain falls onto my lids, splattering across my face and I take a deep, shuddering breath, inhaling the damp, bitter air.

Warmth coats my shivering body, but not on the outside—no. On the outside, I’m still shaking, deep, bone-rattling shivers. But on the inside, I’m tranquil.

I’m fucking gone. Not even lost inside of my own head, in the memories that haunt me, but just nonexistent.

I’m not here, at this graveyard, sitting in the rain that is steadily coming down.

I’m no longer Dominik Reed, child of Alexander and Arabella Reed.

I’m not the son of a murderer.

I’m not a drug addict.

I’m no one.

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