I need to fucking focus. But it’s hard navigating around the insistent thought that Bunny will never be happy with me.
“Tell her the truth. See if she hates you.”
I ignore Carl’s voice, exhaling heavily and putting in the password his decrepit ass has on a sticky note attached to the monitor.
The fuck is the point in having a password then?
“You could’ve thanked me.”
Ire speeds up my heart rate, keeping my flaming eyes on the screen to get the browser pulled up. “Would’ve cut your tongue out if I knew your voice would stick to my psyche,” I mutter.
With a huff, I’m laying the card down and typing the detective’s name in, along with the department that will be grieving over donuts soon.
“I let you restart.”
My chest heats, billowing toxic fumes up my throat that spreads like an infestation of roaches in my face. I crack my neck both ways, hoping to de-escalate the volatility coagulating my blood, but the pace I’m breathing at to keep my chill is manifesting needling beads of sweat to poke through my entire body.
Even though it’s tricky to concentrate with the pickled sensation and scent decomposing me, I get the information I need on Junior Clyde and shut everything off.
Someone’s watching me. They’re in the corner.
They’re always in the corner in here. But I don’t know who it is because they’re a coward and stay hidden in the shadows.
They just want me to know that they know. They see.
Which is fine. The fuck are they gonna do?
I don’t even bother giving them my attention. I move across the office, aiming for the door, but a box sticking out from the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf entrances me.
My boots tug against the floor, coming to an abrupt stop to eye the cardboard a little longer. “What… are you for?”
Interest tips my head, crossing the distance and sliding the box the rest of the way off the shelf.
It’s folded in, giving me a clear shot of the influx of various cellphones thrown inside. All of them are either fractured or dented somewhere.
Maybe a lost and found.
No clue. But the little Nokia sitting on top with a cracked screen is beckoning me.
I pull it out and tuck the box back in, ignoring the eyes observing my scan of a resourceful tool. I can get a charger. That’s no problem. And I’ve seen those minute cards hanging up in the gas station.
This could be fun. And beneficial.
The pixels are obviously dog shit. But my little fuck bunny would look like an absolute star inside the screen.
Maybe Snuff Bunny is more appropriate. Because the film I wanna make is legendary.
Rotating it around to check it out, I move out of the office with thoughts of what I want to capture playing through my mind.
She’s gonna look so pretty begging me with her eyes, the glow of sweat and cum misting her skin and beads of crimson dripping around her curves.
Like a carnal angel. My star.
The old, foggy beams are just whispering on the road, giving me jack shit for clarity on where the hell I’m going.
I don’t adventure around town, so I don’t know where I am. I’ve just been following street signs and hoping for the best, letting rage take the wheel after my pit stop at the gas station.
He must make decent money poking around in other’s business.
