Into Darkness (Whitsborough Chronicles Book 2) Page 12

  When you grow up with a jaded mother who had a really bad experience with love, you soak up her attitude and sooner or later you think it’s your own. I had girlfriends, I slept around but girls were never a priority to me. I knew I could get them when I wanted it and I always dropped them when I was done. Marlana was the same, I took her virginity in grade eight and we had been off and on until Ember showed up. I didn’t do anything with any girl in public because I wanted to make sure they knew and everyone else knew that they just weren’t that important. They didn’t have the power to fucking break me or ruin my whole life. Like what happened to my mother.

  I know I was whispered about and looked at like I was a fuckboy, I guess if you look at it, I was a fuckboy. I used my looks and made sure I got laid whenever and however I pleased. Then Ember came, just fucking stormed through my life like a tornado and ripped open the concrete encasing my dark heart. Her personality and determination swirled around me until that jaded feeling I had was torn from me. She showed me that I had the capability to love and be loved, that I could shower her with love no matter who was watching and I know she would never use that against me.

  “What are you thinking about?” Her turquoise eyes looks into mine.

  “How fucking jaded my mother is. She still holds that pain and deceit in her heart from eighteen years ago.”

  “Vin, I think she does that for you.” Ember whispers.

  “What? How?”

  “Because she wants to make sure you know that you’re her number one. That no matter what there isn’t another person more important.”

  “Maybe… but I think it’s more along the lines of her never wanting to feel that pain again.” Or fuck, maybe a mixture of both.

  Robert Greene swept my mother up into an intense affair full of empty promises and then he dropped her when he found greener pastures. Unfortunately, he didn’t wrap up his dick and won a hateful son in the lottery of unprotected sex. The more I think about it-and I have thought about it too many times over the years-the more I see he was never going to be with my mother, greener pastures aside, my mother was black and his family was very pro ‘keep it in the same culture’. While I was in his house, all the photos, family portraits and fuck the discussions were all white. Not one face of colour in the sea of white.

  “Why didn’t they work?” Ember breaks the silence, “why did he leave her here and go off to college?”

  “Because she wasn’t what his family or society, fuck maybe even business, would approve of.” I grit out.

  “How so? Sharla is a fucking gem.”

  Ember just doesn’t see race, she was raised white, so her peers and the people surrounding her didn’t treat her any different. Luckily she wasn’t raised to be hateful because where she was from there were more minorities than there were white. So, in that sense my girl is pure, she doesn’t hold hatred based on race, only on the actions of a person.

  “They would prefer someone… whiter.” I shrug.

  Here in Whitsborough, its predominately white. The few minorities that live here are mostly in the lower income side of town, save for my family and Danny’s. It’s still a struggle though, and we both get looks and avoidance wherever we go. Fuck, I had dreads for the longest time, so naturally I was a gang affiliate who would amount to nothing.

  “No!” She breathes in horror, “that’s so disgusting.”

  “Well, you can’t kill all evil, baby.” I say with a chuckle as I kiss her cheek.

  “You have no idea.” She tosses me a secret smile and my stomach twists, like it’s trying to help me figure it out, but I can’t. Or maybe I just don’t want to, I trust Ember and I know everything she does has a reason behind it.

  “How often are you going to masturbate this weekend?” She asks me and I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of me.

  “A lot.” I admit, “I’m going to miss my pussy.”

  I watch as her eyes darken and they instantly fill with lust. I love that I can do that to her. She stands up-still naked from our shared shower-and straddles my lap. Her body is one riddled with scars and it makes me proud every time I see them. Em is muscular and cut, her muscles are defined on her arms and stomach, not an inch of cushion except for her tits and ass, more her ass though. I grab both cheeks in my hands and squeeze, then bring her center down to run her wetness along my hard dick. She moans, throwing her head back and her dark brown hair skims along my thighs. She runs her hands up her stomach and grabs her tits, pinching her nipples and gyrating on my dick. No matter how many times we fuck in a day, we can always fuck some more.

  She falls forward and her mouth latches onto mine. She sucks my bottom lip into her mouth and gives it a bite. I pull away and kiss her again with more intensity, my tongue intertwining with hers. Then she sucks my whole tongue into her mouth and begins to suck it in and out like she’s sucking my cock. I groan and lift her ass up to impale her on my big ass dick. She releases my tongue to throw her head back and scream. It’s a good thing my mother is at the restaurant tonight. I tilt her pelvis forward and start pumping into her, using my piercing to scrape along that spot inside, my favourite spot. She’s grabbing her tits again and her moaning is becoming fierce, I know what’s coming. My balls tighten and I feel it starting to spread up my shaft, I’m not going to last much longer.

  She picks up the speed and grinds down into me, then I feel it as she screams, the fluid pouring out of her and over my lower belly, sinking down into my ass crack. I have two more pumps and I’m coming so hard inside her; I just hope her birth control can take it.

  “Going to miss my cock.” She mutters, half asleep on my chest.

  I chuckle and pick us both up, still joined, to wash up in the bathroom. Yeah, I’m going to miss this for a few days, my hand will never be enough ever again.

  21

  I’m sitting in a blacked-out sedan with Emmett as we wait for this piece of shit to come out. Emmett hasn’t been so chatty since we left and I’m not sure what’s up his ass.

  “That face makeup is the creepiest shit I have ever seen.” Oh… maybe that’s it.

  “Don’t tell Carm I do this.” I say to him, making sure my eyes look stern.

  “Sure, whatever.” He backs away. Little pussy. “This isn’t the day of the dead. you know?”

  “Sure, it is,” I reply. “For Henry Thompson.”

  “Oh!” He nods, “that’s good.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Your friends are cool, well… Adrianna is cool, Travis seems like a prick.”

  “Nah, he’s just going through shit.” I wave him off, “if anyone is the prick it’s Vin, and you guys get along just fine.”

  “Vin is a prick.” He agrees, “but I respect him, he takes care of you. Travis just looks like an asshole.”

  “You’ll see, once he’s used to you, he’s not.”

  We both fall silent as we watch Henry Thompson step outside the Detention, we are parked across the street, and as soon as he gets in his vehicle and turns onto the street we are on his tail. I know which way he takes home; he runs through a really shabby side of town and at this time of early morning, no one is ever out.

  I wait as he turns down the road and I speed up, turning in behind him and hitting his back bumper hard enough to jolt him. I see him throw his hands up and pull over onto the side of the road, turning on his hazards. So far, so good. Next step, we wait for him to step out of his vehicle, then Emmett-since he’s closer to this cunt’s type-will approach him. His driver side door finally opens and I exhale the breath I hadn’t noticed I was holding.

  “Show time.” Emmett grins at me and exits the car. That son of a bitch just might be as crazy as me, and the fuck if I don’t like it. He really is a little fucking demon.

  “Hey man!” Emmett yells out, “we’re so sorry about this. We’re so used to nobody being on this road.”

  “What are you kids doing out at this time?” He doesn’t sound pissed, just cu
rious. Thank God for Emmett’s good looks.

  “Oh, you know, being kids.” Emmett sticks out his hand, “thanks for being so understanding, I’m just going to go grab the insurance info.”

  The guy nods and looks to Emmett’s hand, he slowly reaches forward and clasps his to it. I let out a sigh of relief and watch the second he realizes he made a big mistake. Emmett moves fast and gets him in a choke hold fairly easily and quickly, then I pat myself on the back for how well I taught him.

  Showtime.

  I step out of the car and lean against the door, as soon as Henry sees me his skin goes pale and he stops struggling. “Henry Thompson?” I yell out. He doesn’t make a move to answer me, his jaw is clenched tight and his eyes are the size of saucers. I stalk towards him and lift the laminated identification card hanging around his neck. “Good.” I smile wide, “get him in the car.”

  He starts to struggle again, grunting as his fat belly restricts him from actually fighting back. Emmett is trying to keep his hold but I can see how this is just going to be a problem. I walk back up to his face and pull my knife from my pocket, then I slam the butt end of the handle into his temple and watch as he drops like a sack of potatoes.

  “Let’s tie him up and get him in the trunk.” I say to Emmett.

  Once he’s secured and in the trunk, we head out to our predetermined location. It’s remote and secluded inside an abandoned warehouse near The Rampage’s compound. We pull up the garage style doors and drive right in, I unload our fold out lawn chair and Emmett brings out the rope. We both head over to the trunk and when we peer inside we see that our friend Henry is wide awake and looking just terrified.

  “This must be the look the little boys give him.” Emmett says mimicking Henry’s horrified face.

  “Yeah, that’s probably pretty darn close.”

  We haul him up and out of the trunk and throw his ass down in the chair. Then we tie the rope around his waist and around the chair to secure him further, still leaving his hands and feet tied. The duct tape around is mouth is just going to have to stay because what I have planned will make him scream for a while.

  “Am I doing target practice first?” Emmett asks lifting up his sweater to show a band tied around his waist filled with throwing knives.

  “Soon, first I want to explain to our friend here, why we are doing this.” I look back to Henry, “Henry, how many boys have you touched or fucked?” He starts shaking his head and crying, mumbling some bullshit I’m sure. The duct tape is keeping his bullshit inside his mouth. I shake my head. “Please tell me you weren’t denying those charges. That means you haven’t asked for forgiveness. Being an angel of death…”

  “More like Devil in that get up…” Emmett cuts me off.

  “I must make you see the error of your ways.” I finish glaring at Emmett to shut his fucking mouth.

  I stalk forward and pull out my trusty knife, as soon as Henry sees it, the motherfucker pisses himself. I don’t let it deter me, as I reach forward and grab his ear.

  “Now we will try this again. Hold up fingers, how many little boys have you touched or fucked? Let’s say in the last…. three weeks.”

  He starts shaking his head again and sobbing full out this time, snot running down the duct tape. I take the knife and slice his right earlobe off and whip it to the ground. Henry is screaming-thank God it’s muffled-while Emmett is laughing maniacally.

  “That knife is sharp. It just went through that like butter.” Emmett whistles.

  “It was our daddy’s.” I look at Henry as he watches us, crying like a baby. “I killed him, too.”

  Now the fucker is fighting his restraints and trying to get out of the chair. Emmett and I stand back watching, both of our heads cocked to the right and arms folded over our chests. It’s almost like watching a deer caught in barbed wire. Finally, the chair tips to the side and Henry-with all his pissed pants glory-is face planted to the floor beside his discarded ear.

  “Target practice on the fat ass.” I tell Emmett, “just one though.”

  Emmett pulls up his sweater, yanks out a knife and tests its weight in the palm of his hand. Then he throws it straight up in the air, catches it and flicks his wrist. Within a second that blade is buried deep in Henry’s ass cheek. His muffled screams bringing identical grins to our faces.

  “Nice shot.” We fist bump as he runs forward to retrieve his knife and to bring Henry back up to sitting, although the fucker is having a hard time with the stab wound in his ass.

  “How many kids Henry?” I ask again.

  He drops his chin to his chest and making a high pitch whine. I once again stalk forward and grab him by the hair to lift his head up. His eyes are still the size of saucers and the snort has mixed with blood and he’s just a nasty mess, especially with the stench of piss. I pull out my knife and start carving into his head. It’s fucking hard to do with the bitch moving, but I manage.

  “Nice!” Emmett exclaims behind me, “you have lovely writing.”

  “Thank you.” I smile at him and take a look at my handy work. Perv is written beautifully into Henry’s forehead.

  I watch as the blood runs from the cuts in his forehead down over his face, it looks beautiful and I have a need to see more. I wipe my knife off on the back of his shirt and point it into his face.

  “Hold up those hands, Henry,” I snarl. “I want to know how many.”

  Emmett forces Henry’s arms up but the stubborn fucker keeps his hands fisted. I slap him hard in the face and growl. He doesn’t budge, so I squeeze a pressure point on his hands and his fingers fly out as he whines. Then I pull my knife out and slice through the four fingers on his right hand, leaving just his thumb. The little bitch immediately passes out.

  “He’ll die of blood loss soon,” I shrug. “Come throw some of those knives into his belly and see if we can’t wake him up.”

  I sit back on the ground and watch Emmett toss his knives one by one into Henry’s butterball gut. At the eighth one he finally wakes up with a scream.

  “Keep them in, I want him alive for the grand finale.” I tell Emmett.

  I bend down in front of Henry’s face and grin as I rip his buttoned-up guards uniform top off, exposing his nasty hairy chest. I pull out my knife again and start carving the words into his chest. He doesn’t fight, he’s resigned to his fate and I seal the deal by sinking my knife into his eye socket.

  “’Kiddie Fucker.’” Emmett whispers.

  “Yeah, Kiddie Fucker.” I nod, “lets string him up outside so someone can find him exactly like that.”

  Emmett withdraws all his knives and we get to work on hanging this motherfucker outside the warehouse doors.

  22

  I spent the rest of Saturday with Emmett at Coney Island. I had only ever been here one other time with my mother, it took her weeks to save for it and we suffered for a month afterward. This time around was just as much fun, Emmett acted like a big kid the whole time, begging me for prizes and to go on the rides together, he even made me eat a fucking nasty corndog.

  We’re driving back to Hunt’s Point in Shelby, both tired out of our fucking minds, having near to no sleep. Despite that, I feel like today was important, I was meant to bond with Emmett, because that’s what happened. We bonded, I mean, first it was over killing someone together but after, it was about seeing the innocence in the other. First evil then being assured there’s also good, a balance of sorts. And we both understand that the balance can always be tipped, and he gets that the killings actually balance me after I tip too far towards evil.

  Emmett says he doesn’t have any urges to see blood, feel it or to kill. He doesn’t have a darkness and would much prefer not to do it. Much to our father’s disdain while he was growing up. He is our mother with only a touch of our father, he doesn’t shy away from darkness but he doesn’t let it live in him. That soothes me, reminds me that I also have her inside me… somewhere.

  “You sure you want
to leave tonight?” Emmett asks as I pull up to the compound.

  “Yeah, I’ll nap first.” I nod, “I miss Vin.”

  “I miss Vin, too.” He grins, “make sure you tell him for me.”

  I laugh and lean over to hug him as his scent combines with mine and the smell is intoxicating. I suddenly realize I don’t want to leave him and I think he feels the same with how hard he’s hugging me.

  “Come to Whitsborough next weekend.” I tell him.

  “Okay.” He mumbles, his face still in my shoulder.

  Finally, we break apart and I don’t miss the look of abandonment before he quickly covers his features with his-and mine-mischievous grin. He gets out of the car and jogs to the compound, looking back once to give me a quick wave then he disappears inside. It’s in that moment I realize I want Emmett to live with me in Whitsborough and I want him to be loved like I am. I will have to think of a way to tell my parents that don’t implicate me in the murder of our father.

  Being back in this condo without Vin is strange. I felt bad about lying to Emmett but The Head meeting is very important. I have to prepare myself for what I’m about to walk into, which is a bunch of presumably older men who run different districts of New York for drugs, prostitution and weapons. Except in my case I am The Head for Toronto.

  I will be needing a good night sleep to be able to deal with the shitstorm I will be causing tomorrow. I chuckle softly to myself when I try to imagine what Carm will look like when he sees me.

  The next morning, I wake early enough to apply my Los Muertos makeup, I decided I didn’t want to go with my face showing. I look young and I look innocent. There would be no way any man in that room would take me seriously, unless I start stabbing them and that unfortunately, just isn’t an option. This time instead of leggings and an oversized hoodie, I go with black skinny jeans, my moto boots and a white V-neck with a leather jacket on top. I style my hair into a messy bun on top of my head and deem myself Head material.