He chuckles again, then positions himself at my entrance, making my heart all but stop.
No.
Please, no.
“You’ve got a pretty set of lips,” he whispers, then hovers over me and lets go of my hands. “I’m gonna kiss them and see if they taste just as good as they look.”
My heart is beating in my throat as my fear heightens. “Riley, no.” I shove at his hips and shoulders, then slap him when he tries to kiss me. “Fuckingstop,” I grit out, and claw at his cheeks when he forcibly brings his face closer to mine.
He grins through my assault, and when I press my nails further into his skin, breaking it, he pushes further. I turn my head to the side, and my eyes land on the lamp on my nightstand. My mom sees it too, and opens her mouth to warn Riley, but I’m faster. I grab the lamp by its golden, rod-like body and pull at its cord, then smash it against the side of Riley’s head.
Shards of glass rain down on me, just as Riley howls in surprise and gets away from me. He curses when blood drips into one of his eyes from the gash on his forehead, then falls back onto the bed.
The song on my speaker changes toStillAlive, by Demi Lovato, just as I scramble to my knees, kicking away my shorts when they tangle between my ankles. I straddle Riley’s waist, and as he looks up at me, his complexion pales when he sees the rod in my hand.
“Get off me,” he rasps, then groans and grabs his bleeding head.
I’m breathing too fast, and I feel a strange sort of rush pumping through my veins. “Still wanna grab my tits, Riley?” I say, then run a hand under my nose to wipe away the snot. “Still wanna fuck me and taste my lips?”
“Get the fuck off him, Cignette,” Mom warns, fully sober all of a sudden. She comes to a stand on the other side of the bed, and when I lock my gaze with hers, she gives me a look full of rage.
Riley starts sliding out from under me, and my attention snaps back to him. He’s about to turn and make a run for it, but I raise my arm and stab the lamp’s slightly bent rod right in the center of his chest. Blood splatters across my hair, face, and neck. His eyes bulge, and his mouth opens in a silent scream.
Mom gasps audibly and moves away from the bed.
I pull the rod out before bringing it down on the same spot a second time, a third, and then a fourth, and only stop when I’m sure Riley’s dead, and the gaping hole in his chest is wide enough to showcase some of his insides.
I don’t know where this strength came from, but I’m glad it did. Succumbing to fear and losing to it yet again would have been a massive mistake. It feels good to have taken matters into my own hands this time, even if it meant ending a life.
I spit at Riley’s now-flaccid cock and get off the bed, putting distance between myself and his body. My hands are covered in his blood, and the white mattress underneath him is painted in it.
“What has he done to you?” comes Mom’s voice. It’s soft and unsure, as if she’s scared of raising it in front of me. “What has he turned you into?”
I look at her, and notice that her face is completely ashen. She has pressed herself against the wall, and is clutching her pearl necklace for dear life whilst staring at me as if I’m a stranger.
Maybe I am.
EvenIdon’t know who the fuck I am in this moment, so to expect her to be okay with this side of me would be a ridiculous notion.
“Leave my house,” she says, then swallows. “Fucking leave!”
“He was going torapeme, Mom,” I make myself say. “How…how can you be okay with that?”
She gives me a blank look, and the weight of everything that has happened in the last few minutes crashes into me all at once. It’s like a headfirst collision of thoughts and mental pain and shock, and it’s…it’s alot. It really fucking is a lot.
I make my way to the door, and Mom shrinks away from me.Funny how the tables have turned, I wanna tell her, but don’t, and instead, walk out of my room. I cross the foyer and enter the garden, and only when I’ve covered half of it, do I let go of the pressure in my chest, and start crying. My voice rings out against the silence, and pairs with my sloppy footsteps as I pass by some of the figurines in the garden. The guards stop their chatter and give me horrified looks when I reach them. They’re unsure of how to approach me, or even ask me anything, so they remain as they are, until one of them decides to unlock the gates for me.
“Thank you,” I croak out, then head out into the streets, leaving the guards puzzled and tongue-tied behind me.
52.
“Liam Hemsworth can kiss my paleass,” Alex slurs a little, then pats his thigh. “Here, fuckingkissit.”
I laugh, and so does Solo and the rest of the crew.
I glance at Varsha, and when she smiles at me, I reach out and squeeze her hand.
“Whoever made the decision of recasting Geralt is going to rot in hell,” Alex continues, then frowns and takes a long pull of beer from the bottle in his hand. “Cursed hemorrhoid.”
