Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts and webseries!

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From the cover of the hedges, he watched as Tommy crawled out from beneath his truck.  Several of the latter’s friends were leaning against another pickup, a white Chevy, sipping on beers and joking amongst themselves.  Nobody seemed knew that he was there, nor of the things he had done throughout the day.

“Has anyone got ahold of B.J. yet,” he asked as stood up and brushed his hands off on his jeans.

“Naw.  The phone just rings.  He’s probably pulling one off,” answered one of the other jocks, to which they all explode in laughter.

Scott shifted impatiently from one foot to the other.  He had fully expected to find Tommy and Misty together and was surprised that this wasn’t the case.  Time wasn’t on his side and he knew it.

“Seriously.  How about one of you guys go get him,” Tommy asked.  “He’s the only one of us who knows how to fix this thing.”

“No prob.  Hey, you want us to pick up some beers on the way back,” asked the same jock from before.  Scott recognized him as Danny Mathews, a defensive tackle who played on the team.

“That sounds good,” Tommy answered as he tossed him his wallet.  “It’s on me.  Get some smokes while you’re at it.”

The others made some jokes about spending his money as they climbed into the cab and bed of the truck.  Scott watched for several minutes as they bantered back and forth before leaving.  He waited several more afterward to be sure they weren’t coming back.  Confident that the time had come, he stepped forward.

As he exited the brush, his foot kicked an empty beer can that he hadn’t seen from where he was hidden.  It lifted several inches into the air and landed just behind his target, who had been leaning over the engine and hard at work with a ratchet.

Tommy jumped, hitting his head on the bottom of the hood.

“What the f-” he started, pausing mid-syllable when he saw Scott standing there.

“Jesus man, you look like shit,” he breathed while rubbing the back of his head.  “I-is that blood?!”

“Yeah, it kind of is,” he answered as he looked down at himself.  “I guess I cut myself deeper than I thought.”

“What?  But how?”

“It doesn’t matter.  I wanted to talk to you about Lucy,” he said as he took another step closer.

“Lucy…”  His voice trailed off in genuine confusion, having forgotten about the girl who Misty had set him up with all those months ago.

“Lucy.  Winters.”  He spoke with emphasis, each word forcing their way through his teeth as he tried to maintain his last ounce of control.

“Oh yeah!  Yeah, I remember her.  She’s that fat chick, right?”

Scott only nodded.  He was almost in range for his wakazashi, with which he was already beginning to picture the many ways he wanted to use it against him.

“Damn, she’s fat!  But she has a pretty face though, right?  Right?”

“Where’s Misty at,” he asked instead, ignoring the other’s question.  “I want to thank you two for setting me up with her.”

There were only four feet separating them when Tommy finally got it.  The blood covering him, the way his hair had completely turned white and the look in his eyes spoke of nothing less than murder.  Death was a scent so strong that it hung in the air around him like a cloud, corrupting everything that came into contact.

“What’s with the knives,” Tommy asked as he backed away.

Scott only repeated his question as he lunged forward.  Surprise was on his side this time, for Tommy didn’t expect the person he’d bullied for so many years to suddenly be stronger than him.  His hands shot forward and planted solidly on the jock’s shoulders, knocking him backward over the engine of his pickup.  Before Tommy could recover, Scott knocked the rod out from beneath the hood and, in the same movement, caught the latter and slammed it down onto his chest.

Stunned, Tommy began to slide out from beneath the steel and toward the ground. Scott watched, bemused, noting that the other’s nose was now broken and plastered to one side of his face.  Blood gushed down the front of him, quickly soaking the front of his t-shirt and pooling out beneath him after he fell face-first to the ground.

Placing a knee in his back, Scott then grabbed a handful of his hair yanked his head up, drawing a scream from the other, before slowly repeating his last question.

“I doanno,” Tommy slurred.

“Not good enough,” he growled as he slammed the bully’s face into the ground.  “Tell me where…”  But the question hung unfinished when he noticed that the other had succumbed to the pain.  With a frustrated sigh, he dropped his head to the ground and searched through his pockets for a phone.  If he couldn’t get the answer he wanted, he would just find her himself.

He found it in the right-back pocket, but the victory was short-lived.  As his hands closed around it, Tommy struggled free from beneath him, desperately throwing him off as he fought his way back to his feet.

“You thun of a bith,” he cursed.  “I’m gonna kill you!”