She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XLIX)

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!

———

Scott landed on his back with a thud and the breath whooshed from his lungs.  He had heard Tommy threaten to kill him, but his voice swam through a haze of pain and agony so thick that it made him want to curl up into a ball and accept what was coming. The ‘other’ screamed madly in the back of his thoughts, jabbering insanely as a last ditch effort to get him motivated.

It was just enough, and as Tommy’s hands closed around his neck, he snapped back to reality.  He sucked in a huge breath just as his opponent’s hands began to tighten. He pummeled the stronger boy with his fists, raining blow after blow about his chest, arms and the side of his head.  Finally, his right fist struck solidly with the pulpy mess in the middle of his face and the jock screamed, quickly letting go to cover his face.

Scott reached down with his right hand and wrapped his fingers around the handle of his tanto.  He was at a disadvantage, however, as Tommy noticed the movement and punched him in the elbow.  The blow was well placed.  It slammed into a pocket of nerves and caused his hand to not only open, but to become numb and tingly.

He growled, wildly swinging with his left fist.  The blow was misplaced.  Though it connected with Tommy’s jaw, it did so with the knuckles of his last two fingers.  His voice matched the jock’s as they both cried out in pain, one due to the blow to the face, the other because of a broken finger.

Tommy slumped weakly to the side, allowing Scott enough time to struggle out from beneath him.  Fresh blood oozed down the front of his pants.  His breath wheezed through his bruised windpipe and he clutched his hand to his chest with a hurt look on his face.

“You broke my finger,” he accused the other.

“You bwoke my nothe,” Tommy screamed as he rose to his feet.

Scott took a step back, fearfully, as he suddenly realized that he might not have it in him to take him down.  His energy was waning, and even worse, he was slowly bleeding out.  As Tommy lunged for another attack, he did the only thing he could think of to stop him.  He punted the jock’s right knee.

The crack of breaking bone was deafening.  Tommy’s knee chicken-legged behind him before before completely giving out, effectively ending the football career of the young man.  Bone jutted through skin, blood gushed through clutching hands and the jock screamed in a falsetto voice so high that it hurt his ears.

“Shut him up,” the other commanded, speaking for the first time in hours.

He looked around frantically for something that would help him do just that.  In his panicked state, he had completely forgotten about the blades strapped to his waist. It would have been quicker to thrust one them through the other’s mouth, silencing him forever.  But that did not occur to him.  He, instead, did the only thing his mind allowed him to think of at the time.  He kicked the release on the jack.  The truck dropped to the ground with a thud and began to roll forward.

Tommy had become a screaming ball of pain and fury, clutching his shattered knee as he rocked back and forth on the ground.  It was this that prevented him from seeing the approaching ton of steel.

The truck pinned his right foot to the ground and slowly began to roll over him as it continued down the driveway.  The sound of breaking bones reminded Scott of a tree falling over and for the second time in an hour, he was sprayed by the blood of his victim.

The screaming ended when the truck crushed the other’s ribcage, but by then, Scott was already on the move.

She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XLVIII)

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!

———

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!”

She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XLVII)

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!

———

An hour had passed since his encounter in the alley, but he was fortunate enough to continue on without being seen.  Part of him was completely baffled that it hadn’t ended in the alley with the two bikers.  They had been discovered before he had escaped into the street, and there was no logical explanation as to why he hadn’t been seen.

The shadows reached out to him as he passed.  They latched onto his bloody form and hugged him close, passing him onto the next as he ran.  His chainmail shirt rattled with each step as it softly bounced against his skin.  The saya of his weapons clacked together from his movements, and yet it was as if he were on the outside of perception.

When he did come across the path of another, they continued on as if he wasn’t there.  It was no different from any other day in his life, that feeling of being an outsider had never felt stronger.  He sought out their eyes and they suddenly found something more important to look at.  He spoke a brief greeting and they mumbled in disinterest.  He was the most wanted person in All Saints, and yet, he was also the least important.

“Welcome to my life,” he muttered in disgust.

It no longer mattered.  There was nothing left for him but the end of this twisted journey, an end which would find the perpetrators of his recent downfall against the edges of his daisho.

He thought about the first of the two people he would be paying a visit to.

“You better listen to me, you little creep…”

His words jumped out of the recesses of memory, reminding him of when this all started.  He could still feel the cold impact of the concrete against his skull from when Tommy had slammed him against it for emphasis.  He had caught Scott looking at his girlfriend, something that nearly every guy in their class did, but because Scott had been one of the ‘shunned ones’, he had received the brunt of his anger.

He smiled.  The joke had been on him, because as he lay curled on the ground, he had seen everything when she stepped over him.

“Say, you sure are lucky!”

Arnie’s voice floated out of the void and just like that, the smile was gone.  Just as he had been there at the shed, so had he been from the beginning as well.  Always there, helping him back to his feet.  Always seeming to care about how he was doing and whether or not he needed someone to talk to.

“What the hell’s with that guy anyways,” he asked softly.

The sound of his voice startled a nearby jogger, causing her to lose her stride.  She glanced his way with a look of mild irritation, but did nothing more than to widen the distance between them as she passed.  He watched with mild amusement.  Normally when someone approaches you covered in blood, it tended to make more of an impact.  She had only given him a second glance and had gone on her way.

How long had it been since this had all begun?  Hours?  Days?  He wasn’t sure anymore.  Even though a part of him knew that what had begun with Lucy had been in the late hours of the night before, it felt weeks away from this moment.  Much like the shadows, time had stretched itself around him, stealing away the seriousness of his actions.  He had finally become the Outsider that he had thought he was and it felt nothing like it was supposed to.

It much more cold and unforgiving than he ever imagined.  The last of Scott Vali was dying inside of him and what was left frightened the fragments of his former self. What was left was a creature capable of crushing the family dog beneath the door. What was taking his place was something who could throw someone off of a balcony and hunt them down like a wounded animal.  What he had become was something ‘other’ than human that could cut down two bikers as if they were made of Papier-mâché.

A thick, hot tear escaped from the corner of his right eye and slowly burned its way down his cheek and he mourned the life that was lost.  While it may not have been much, it might have been better than this.  As Tommy’s house came into sight, Scott mourned the last of what little life he’d had.