Page 75 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
It’d be just like my brother to do something this sick, this bizarre and vindictive, to file away that memory for years and then wield it against me. Figures. He loves killing animals. It’s a way for him to get out his urges that don’t involve our father scrambling for some sort of cover-up, paying off families, burying evidence.
Once upon a time, he knocked a nest of baby birds out of a tree. All but one of them died. I scooped the baby up and took it inside. With the help of the Internet, I was able to figure out what sort of bird it was. I cared for it, fed it, kept it alive.
Until one day when I came home and found him with the bloodied bird in his hands. He told our father as I sobbed that the dogs got ahold of it, but we both knew that wasn’t the case, not at all. Dad told him to put the poor thing out of its misery and then bury it.
But you know what my brother did? He buried it alive. And then he came and told me about it; he smiled; he laughed.
“I’m sure it’s dead by now though.”
I know he’s waiting for a reaction from me and that I shouldn’t give it to him, but I do anyway. I grab that vase—it’s probably worth a fortune—and then I smash it against the side of the sofa table, leaving only a single sharp shard in my now bloody hands.
I hop over the sofa and then I put that piece of glass to my brother’s throat, right up to the thumping pulse of his carotid. I fantasize about killing him, about the way his blood would spray me and soak me, and how I would love the hot, scalding copper stink of it.
“Do it,” he breathes, his dark eyes on mine, his smile vicious and unafraid. “Kill me, Aspen. We both know that you want to.” He reaches up for my hand, pressing the glass against his own skin as crimson droplets well.
I jerk backwards, slicing my own hand in the melee, and then I fall to my knees on the rug, panting and shaking and bleeding everywhere. I lift my hand up to stare at the cut. It’s deep and ragged and ugly; I probably need stitches.
My brother squats down beside me, reaching out to swipe my hair back from my forehead.
“Where were you tonight?” He grabs a handful of my hair and yanks on it, but I slap his hand away hard. I won’t tell him, and he knows it. But it’s killing him. It’s breaking that careful control he tries so hard to cultivate.
“Boys,” our father warns, sweeping into the room and looking at the broken vase and the blood and the dead fish. His eyes widen and he grits his teeth, squeezing his hands into fists at his sides. “Who did this?”
My brother rises to his feet, shaking his head at me like he’s disappointed before he touches two fingers to his throat and then examines the blood glistening on his fingerprints.
“Who else?” he queries innocently, looking down at me with a terrible smile. “Ash did it, didn’t you, Ash?”
I spit at him, shoving up to my feet, and then I look him dead in the eye.
“I kissed the most beautiful girl tonight, one who would never let you kiss her, a girl you could never have. That’s where I was. As soon as she saw me, she could tell. I know she could.” All of this I deliver to my brother in Japanese, and I relish the anger and frustration on his face because he can’t understand any of it. Not a word.
Our father can’t either. He claims our mother was the love of his life, but he never bothered to learn her language. I doubt that he’s capable of loving anyone—not even his favorite son.
“You’re nothing but a pathetic disappointment—as per usual,” Mayor Kelly snaps at me. “You’re nineteen now. It’s time to get your act together, Ash. I’ll be taking the cost of the vase and the fish from your trust fund.”
My brother laughs at me as I shove past him, heading up the stairs toward my room.
I take out my anger and frustration with my painful, bloody hand wrapped around my cock, dreaming of Scarlett Force, of her perfect mouth and her perfect ass. More than anything else, I think about the fact that when Aspen is Aspen, she despises him.
But when Ash is Aspen …
I sigh, coming so hard that I nearly pass out. It’s the first release I’ve had in years, and it feels incredible, like a door is opening and ushering me into a brand-new future.
I won’t ever allow myself to truly pursue Scarlett—it’s far too dangerous—but the dream is there, and I’ve lived on dreams and fantasies since my earliest memories.
