Page 83 of Crybaby

His partner, who is about ten years his senior, has his gun trained on Darcie. I look at her, and with a nod, she reads my facial charades.

“Pl-Please don’t hurt me,” she stutters, interlacing her hands. “I’m s-so scared. Please, let me get dressed. I’m c-cold.”

Oh, fuck me, this damsel in distress act is too funny.

The cop whose badge reads Tillerman doesn’t hide his appraisal of her standing in nothing but a towel.

“Keep looking at her that way, Officer, and I’ll feed you your eyeballs.”

It works like a charm.

Both cops focus on me, thinking I’m the more dangerous one, which is fucking sexist. I’ve seen Darcie in action—she’s fucking brutal and, at times, sadistically scary, which is why I love her.

Before these assholes burst through the door, I was on the cusp of having the best orgasm of my life and telling my girl I loved her after she told me she loved me.

Looking at her, I don’t know how I got so lucky. She’s strong, and beautiful, and will happily shove anything into her enemies’ orifices and set them on fire.

Speaking of…

Darcie quickly changes into jeans and Chucks and throws on my hoodie, but I don’t fail to see her stow away a packet of matches she stole from Trespass into her back pocket.

My little pyromaniac never leaves home without them.

Buzz snatches the gun from my waist, which results in the towel pooling to the vomit-colored carpet. “And you didn’t even buy me dinner first,” I quip when my junk is on full display.

Tillerman doesn’t appreciate my humor and tosses a pair of jeans and boots at me. “Get dressed.”

I do as he says because I need a plan, and I need a plan quick and smart because getting caught was not part of the deal.

The moment I’m dressed, Tillerman elbows me in the stomach and yanks my arms behind my back, handcuffing me. Bent low and attempting to catch my breath, I subtly shake my head because I can see Darcie wants to fight.

But she can’t.

We fight.

We die.

We’re wanted fugitives.

We need to bide our time.

Tillerman heaves me upright and reads me my rights.

I yawn in response.

Buzz cuffs Darcie, but I can see the young buck is sweet on her as she goes all doe-eyed. “Please don’t do them up tight. I won’t resist. I promise.”

What a fucking chump.

Buzz keeps a stiff upper lip, but I can see he’s done as she asked. She’s a fucking crazed mastermind, and I am going to fuck the ever-living shit out of her the moment we get out of this mess, because we are getting out of this.

I don’t know how yet, though.

We are led from the room, a few bystanders standing in their doorways to see what the commotion is. The cops leading us toward the patrol car are talking amongst themselves, bragging that they caught the two teen delinquents who have eluded police for days.

They’re going to be the hometown heroes. Or so they think.

I lock eyes with Darcie, and I can see that she’s wondering how we’re going to get out of this. But I made a promise to protect her, and I never break a promise.

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