Page 11 of Unhinged Cain

I poured the multiple bottles of syrup on my waffles and dug into the breakfast that had a lot more flavor than it would’ve before my violet-eyed ray of sunshine walked in.

Sunshine?

Huh? I’d never given anyone other than Abel a nickname. Most of his were derogatory slurs. I was transfixed and completely fascinated that someone other than Abel was holding my attention.

Time to stalk a pretty girl, pretty girl, pretty girl.

Time to stalk a pretty girl so early in the morning.

Time to make the girl mine, the girl mine, the girl mine.

Time to make the girl mine so early in the morning.

Time to slit her pretty throat, pretty throat, pretty throat.

Time to slit her pretty throat and keep her as my trophy.

The stupid song that Abel created ran around in my head, and I couldn’t help but smile. As I ate my fluffy waffles, I was able to admit that sometimes my brother was quite creative.

KIRBY

The rock music blasted through the headphones as my feet pounded along the sidewalk. I loved running but loved it more when I had anger to vent. The afternoon sun was warm, but the temperatures were supposed to drop, and I wasn’t looking forward to the cold weather. Veering off the sidewalk, I ran into the woods surrounding the school. The rest of the class was so far behind that they were out of sight. Being in the lead was a rush and pushed me harder.

Peter and I had argued non-stop yesterday, from breakfast to dinner. He’d been excessively rude to everyone, from the sweet man holding the door open for us at his building to the teenage kid working at the gas station. I didn’t know what his problem was, but his entire attitude left a sour taste in my mouth. There simply wasn’t a reason to treat people like that. Now, every second I spent in his presence, the more I couldn’t overlook the issues with our relationship. It was like every time he opened his mouth, more toxicity would spill out and poison the waters further.

My mind kept swirling around the loud arguments my parents used to have. My mother always talked down to my dad. She loved to point out that he didn’t have as fancy of a job, and she would say, ‘it made him less of a man.’ I hated whenever she’d do that and felt this urge to come to my dad’s defense, which would put me in my mother’s crosshairs. I’d usually end up grounded, but she didn’t have the right to speak to Dad like that when it shouldn’t matter how much money you make to determine your worth. Besides, she was the fucking cheater.

Mother was the one that ruined our family, and a small part of me hated her for that. I was fifteen when I found out about the affair, and it happened completely by accident. I volunteered at a blood bank and decided to give blood, a seemingly innocent thing to do, right? But then I discovered my blood type didn’t match either of my parents.

Did I feel bad about outing her to my dad? Yes, but only because he moved out and eventually left to live in another country, which was totally selfish. I’d lost count of how many times since I’d asked the question, who was my birth father? I didn’t have a clue, and according to my mother, neither did she. I was the product of an oops-pregnancy that my mother never wanted. She had a few one-night stands while she was on an op, and ‘oops,’ here I was. Just what every kid wanted to hear, ‘Hey, you were the accident that I didn’t really want but got anyway.’ She said she’d never wanted children because it would’ve stunted her career. It honestly felt like she resented me from the day I was born.

I’d been so angry with her that I cheered when they said they were getting a divorce, but the joy quickly subsided when Dad moved out and told me it was best if I stayed with my mother. He’d never been the breadwinner of the family, and my mother would only make our lives hell if I moved in with him. Then he got a job transfer and moved across the ocean to England with his new fiancé. Now, they were expecting a baby, and I barely heard from him anymore. Not only did I have no clue who my birth father was, but I felt like I’d lost the one I’d loved for years.

The sound of my breath was loud in my ears as I pushed my body harder than I ever had. My arms pumped in time to the song’s beat, and my heart thumped, thumped, thumped along. I leaped over a small log and flew around the bend in the trail.

So here I was, unsure of who I was and what I wanted. And I’d left behind my life and all my friends in Cali. My mother decided to move us out here with the new teaching position she’d been offered. So now I was halfway across the country only to be stuck in a city I didn’t want to be in, with a woman I couldn’t stand and doing a program I was not interested in attending.

I’d rounded the halfway point and had barely broken a sweat. This was the hardest part of the trail, and I pushed hard as my legs climbed the steep incline that sent my heart rate through the roof.

Still fuming from my fight with Peter and the memories of why I was even running this fucking trail spurred me on. I burst from the tree line, ready to dash across the intersection, but some asshole in a black minivan pulled out too far as he came to a sudden stop at the stop sign, and I almost ran into the side of it. Angry, I smacked my hands on the hood.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” I yelled as I kept running.

The final hundred meters were in sight, and I pushed my body to move faster, loving the breeze in my face and the pounding of the blood in my ears to lull me into feeling something that wasn’t disappointed, annoyed, or trapped.

That’s what I was, a rat in a trap, and I wanted out before I suffocated to death. I needed to find a way to get my dad to agree to have me move there with him. I knew I shouldn’t have to beg, but at this point, I was desperate and desperate times called for desperate measures.

I ran past the coach, and he clicked the stopwatch. He wrote down the time with a smile on his face.

“Great time Lawson. You almost beat the school record.”

Coach was a hot man. My gaze flicked over his muscular frame covered in standard-issue shorts and a white T-shirt. I wondered if I could talk him into a fun fuck-session once I got rid of Peter—maybe we could fulfill a fantasy or two about a dirty coach in his office. I’d read a book or two that started that way, and I had to admit that I was curious to try it.

I shook my head and noticed the minivan I almost collided with drive past. It wasn’t doing anything unusual. In fact, it was doing the speed limit and driving in a straight line. I couldn’t see the driver because of the darkened windows, but I would swear that the driver was staring at me. It felt like the vehicle was stripping me naked, and I shivered.

I seriously needed a good lay and to stop watching unsolved murder cases so late at night. My brain was a mess, and Peter was useless.

CAIN