Page 3 of Apathy
Sickness spread over my body as I felt myself grinding against the mattress, looking for friction, chasing the high from earlier. I felt sick with myself, but there was nothing I could do.
My soul didn’t belong to me anymore.
“Touch yourself.” His grip on the back of my head increased, but his thrusts slowed down, allowing me to breathe. “I want us to come together.”
Half-crazed and half-lost, I touched my navel before my fingers traveled between my lips, and touched my clit, sending jolts of pleasure through me. I moaned around him, smiling, almost laughing as I entered one finger into my opening, then the second one, and the third one, trying to make it feel how his fingers felt inside.
Sick.
I was a sick, twisted girl.
“That’s it.” He pushed inside my mouth. “Do you want to come?” His voice was a grunt, a promise, and I wanted it to come true. I wanted the fake little promises and the sweet nothings he could provide.
I pressed against the spot inside, but it didn’t feel the same. It didn’t feel the same as his fingers.
The foul taste of his precum slid down my throat, and I knew if we didn’t come together, he would leave me dry. I pushed my fingers faster and as the familiar sensation appeared at the bottom of my stomach, I knew I was close.
“Suck it.” I gripped his hip and started moving my head faster, not waiting for him to move me. My fingers worked in sync with my mouth, and when I pressed my thumb against my clit, wiggling on my knees, he erupted into my mouth, groaning, breathing hard, making me swallow each drop, when all I wanted to do was vomit. As I clenched around my fingers, letting the sensation take over me, I screamed against the limp dick that was still in my mouth.
He moved the hair from my face and started wiping the spilled tears, soothing me, praising me, loving me.
“You’re my best girl, sweetheart. You will always belong here, with me, on your knees.”
But I wouldn’t.I would rather die.
* * *
If you saw the world burning, would you let it burn or would you try to extinguish the flames? Or would you be the one that set it on fire? Maybe you like to think that you would be the one to save it, but have you ever looked deep inside of yourself only to realize that you were the villain all along?
I was surrounded by people who thought themselves to be heroes, when, in reality, they were nothing but vicious villains, setting everything on fire.
I sat in the car, staring at the pale orange walls of Winworth High, willing myself to move so that I wouldn’t miss the first class. It was a new school year, after all—my last one—and I just wanted to get it over with. Some people loved high school, some hated it, and I was indifferent. I guess when you live in a town filled with serpents hiding in the skin of angels, you learn how to be indifferent. You have to, if you want to survive.
I grew up in the town of Winworth, in Washington State, and while you might be enamored by its picturesque scenery, beautiful mountains, rich history, and winning football team, I knew better. This was a new hell, but you couldn’t see the depravity until you started peeling off the layers from the walls and opening the doors where all its secrets lay still.
It was one of those places that could lure you in, make you fall in love with it, and by the time you’ve realized the sickness spreading throughout its streets, it was too late for you to get out. Some people had a choice whether they wanted to be here, but I didn’t.
I was a Blackwood, a founding family, a legacy, and no matter what I wanted to do in my life, I knew that living here wouldn’t be enough. No, Winworth demanded a lifelong, generations-long sacrifice, but I wasn’t going to be another sacrificial lamb. The promises I made to myself, the dreams I had to fulfill, it was all waiting for me after high school.
Trying to clear the fog from my mind, to push the last night to the back, my eyes caught on a group of people I knew very well. On my left side, five parking spots away, a couple of guys from the football team of Winworth High tossed a ball between each other, earning hoots and hollers from the people gathered around them, who were waiting to be noticed by the Golden Boys of Washington State. I used to be like them. I used to dream about high school and the experiences it would bring.
But then… It didn’t matter anymore.
What did matter was a lean body I knew very well, seated on the hood of his Jeep Wrangler, with his eyes burning into mine. A self-proclaimed king, captain of the football team, and the shiniest star of our school, Kane St. Clare. We grew up together, running around the yard at his family home, chasing each other, loving the wind on our skin, and hating our nannies every time we had to go in.
But Kane wasn’t the boy I grew up with, and I wasn’t the girl he once knew.
Not that it really mattered, because I wasn’t searching for that boy that used to chase away the bad dreams and put Band-Aids on my knees. He had what I needed, and I had what he wanted.
Escape.
The cool and calculating way he was looking at me should’ve been scary, but my system was still overloaded with the drugs I swallowed last night. I couldn’t find it in myself to care. He’s been trying to get in touch with me for the last three months. He called, he texted, he came to my house, but I never answered. What was the point? Kane loved imagining things that weren’t really there, and somewhere between fucking me and giving me what I wanted, he made himself believe that he was in love with me.
Utter bullshit, if you ask me.
None of us knew what love really was. Could you taste it? Could you describe it? It was a universal feeling, yet everyone described it differently. What Kane felt for me was nothing more than chemical attraction and the need to lose himself in something else other than grief.
I looked away, ignoring the way my neck burned as he kept staring at me, and started fumbling with my bag, taking a bottle of Adderall into my hand. I probably shouldn’t be taking these after last night and the euphoria I went into, but it couldn’t hurt. I opened the lid and placed three pills in my palm. Lauren said to be careful with the number of pills, but screw being careful.
