Apathy by L.K. Reid
Skylar
“Open up, pretty girl.”
Laughter bubbled up from my chest, the taste of it like sin on my lips as his scent filtered into my nose, and his eyes flashed with danger, burning into mine. But I opened my mouth—I always do. The bitter taste of the happy little pill exploded on my tongue and my body trembled, preparing itself for what was about to come. It was futile, fighting the inevitable, and I learned the hard way how much it hurt when my obedience wasn’t up to his tastes.
“Swallow it,” he grunted. My throat worked as the pill slipped down, waiting to erupt inside my body, giving me a little bit of happiness to replace this numbness in my veins. “Good girl.”
My eyes misted as I started focusing on the peeled wallpaper behind him. The faded golden swirls on what was once a teal background now looked like sinister vines spreading all over the wall. I waited as the clock on the nightstand ticked, as my heart started beating faster, and as everything I never wanted to happen started coming closer and closer. So fucking close I could already feel his hands on my body. I focused on the swirls as he pushed my body onto the bed, and the view of pretty little swirls was replaced by the bland ceiling filled with dark spots.
Tick-Tock.
Tick-Tock.
It continued ticking as he lifted my shirt over my stomach, keeping it underneath my breasts. My eyes fluttered as the dark spots on the ceiling started changing shapes, dancing above us, telling me everything was going to be okay.
He pressed his mouth above my belly button, licking his way over my heart, over my soul, chipping away the pieces of me. As he got greedier, as my eyes shut down, my shirt got lifted over my breasts, exposing me to his vile eyes. I never looked at him. I never wanted to look him in the eye, because I feared that the truth I would see there wouldn’t be his downfall, but mine.
“Lift your arms up,” he instructed, and as an obedient little girl, I obliged, slowly falling for the satisfied smile on his face. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” I hoped so. “Touch yourself. I want to see you touch these pretty tits.”
My body wasn’t my own anymore, and like watching a movie in slow motion, my hands pressed against the puckered nipples, and I arched my back, inviting him back in. Because I always did. I always welcomed him back.
The sound of the belt dropping to the ground sent my heart into a frenzy. I knew what was about to come. His breaths turned deeper as I spread my legs wider, showing him my covered pussy. He gripped my knees and started spreading me wider and wider, until he crawled on the bed, settling himself between my legs.
I hated the wetness coating me and the laughter, the frenzy… I hated being used to this, but words died on my lips, even though I wanted him to stop. My skin burned as he ripped my panties off, throwing them to the other side of the room.
Three thick fingers entered me in one turn, burning my insides, burning my soul away. He started pumping in and out, making me loathe myself as moans erupted from my chest.
I hate him.
I fucking hate him.
But I needed him because he had my happy little pill. He had all the pills, and I needed them. Today was a happy one. The other day I screamed and screamed and screamed, until his fist connected with my cheek, sending me to the floor. But I continued screaming. I continued crying. I continued begging to be free, even as he tore the clothes from my body and sliced me in half.
And then I stopped screaming and started grinding against him, just like now.
“You’re my good little whore. Aren’t you?” Yes! I needed to… Oh God. I needed it to take over. “Answer me!” he roared as he slapped my tit, making me scream.
“Yes!” I need more, more, more. “Please.”
He slapped the other breast, then squeezed, never letting the pain subside. Not that it ever did, even when he wasn’t the one touching me.
“More,” I begged as he started slowing down. “Don’t stop.”
“Shhhh.” He pressed a finger against my lips as he removed the other three from my pussy. “I’m gonna make you feel good, but I need you to keep quiet.” He leaned down, igniting the fire within as his dick pressed against my opening. “Can you do that, pretty girl?”
I nodded, unable to speak. I was unable to move, afraid he would take away the pleasure that was so close.
“Good.” I could see the wrinkles around his eyes, over his forehead, and I focused on the three lines between his eyebrows, avoiding his eyes. He pulled me up, holding my hands in front of me. “Open that pretty mouth.”
He leaned back as I positioned myself on my knees and placed my hands on his hip bones. With one hand, he took a hold of his dick, with its angry red tip and pale skin, and with the other one, he pulled my head closer until the tip of his cock pressed against my closed mouth, seeking entrance.
“Open.”
I pulled my lips over my teeth and opened up as he dragged the tip over my bottom lip.
“So beautiful,” he groaned. With one thrust, he entered my mouth, cutting off my oxygen supply as he hit my throat. I wasn’t ready—I wasn’t ready at all. I started coughing around his dick, but I couldn’t move away. He held the back of my head as he kept sliding in and out, lost in his own pleasure.
My eyes watered as I tried breathing through my nose, but the gagging didn’t stop. It increased with each new push, with each new grunt, my mouth watering around him, but the fucking bastard didn’t stop.
“Take it,” he grunted. “Take it all, pretty girl.”
Tears fell over my cheeks as he kept going, but my body didn’t take a hint of what was happening. Not entirely.
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.
With one swift move, I placed all three of them in my mouth, then reached for the bottle of water, uncapping it and taking one big gulp. I wanted to close my eyes and forget about everything around me, but I knew if I did that, silence wouldn’t be greeting me. Every time I closed my eyes, I could feel his filthy hands on my skin. Just like a whisper, his voice was always ringing in my ear, and no matter how much I tried, I could never escape.
Lifting my eyes toward the rearview mirror, I adjusted it so that I could check my makeup. The bruise on my cheek was almost gone, but I couldn’t risk anybody asking about it or where I got it, so I managed to hide it with layers of foundation. My lifeless blue eyes stared back at me, and I realized how pale I was, even with the soft blush I applied this morning. I usually didn’t bother with makeup, but when Lauren, my best friend, mentioned how frail and pale I started looking, I knew I had to do something. At least my pale blonde hair wasn’t tied in a bun today. Some days, even breathing took too much energy from me, so taking a shower and washing my hair should be regarded as a grand feat.
While the tourists loved visiting our town during the summer, going into the mountains and renting the cabins there, soaking in the sun, I preferred the four walls of my room and books to be my company. It’s been getting harder pushing my body to get out of the bed in the morning, feeling achy, uncomfortable, and just wanting to disappear.
But I had to survive this year and then I would be free.
I pushed open the door of my car, taking my bag with me and shivering from the early chill Winworth was famous for. It didn’t matter which time of year it was; mornings were always fucking cold. I looked up toward the mountains surrounding us, seeing the fog still lingering on the top, hiding the forest in its cold embrace.
Voices traveled toward me, one in particular annoying the shit out of me. I didn’t have the strength to deal with Kane this early in the morning, especially not after everything that has happened between us. My brother never really liked him, and maybe I should’ve listened to him.
God, I missed Dylan.
He was four years older than me, and on days like today, my whole being missed him, wishing for him to come home. He left Winworth three years ago to study in Seattle, and while he was less than four hours away, it still felt like an eternity between his visits. He came only once this summer, and that once wasn’t nearly enough for me. He promised to visit during September, since our father kept him in Seattle during the summer, showing him the ropes in our company. I hated it.
I wanted my brother back. I know, I know, it wasn’t healthy clinging to someone like this, but Dylan was the only one who could understand me, or, well, at least what I was willing to share with him. He was also the only one who could still make me laugh. The last two years without him constantly by my side felt like an eternity without the sun.
Even now, as I walked across the schoolyard, heading toward the door and avoiding the stares of seniors gathered on the staircase, the only thing I could see were the memories of the first day of high school and Dylan driving me. It was just too bad that he wasn’t enough to keep the monsters at bay.
“Skylar!” I turned around and saw Lauren heading in my direction, looking happy. Way too happy for eight in the morning. Her auburn hair bounced around her shoulders as she caught up with me, her lips spreading into a smile. “What’s up, Sugar Bum?”
I scowled. “You’re way too happy today.”
“You would be too if you listened to me when I told you to stop by my house before school.” I looked at her eyes, seeing the dilated pupils and redness taking over the otherwise white sclera. I wanted to laugh because I couldn’t remember a single school year that didn’t start with her high and me scowling.
“What did you take, bish?” I pushed her shoulder, earning a cheeky smile.
“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” she started explaining as she hugged my shoulders and started pushing me toward the entrance. “I brought some for you as well.”
“What if I don’t want it?” I asked. “What if I’m turning over a new leaf this year?” We knew that was highly unlikely to happen.
“Bitch, please.” She scoffed. “The day you turn over a new leaf and say no to the goodies I manage to snatch from my brother, would be the day that the sun properly shines in Winworth.”
She had a point there. I loved running away from reality, so much so that on some days, I couldn’t tell the difference between what was real and what was fake. And I loved it. I loved those moments where I couldn’t hear anything but my heartbeat thundering in my ears. Or when my mind didn’t try to remind me of everything that was waiting for me outside of the sweet oblivion drugs were providing.
“What’s your first class?” she asked as we reached the entrance to the school. “I have biology with Mrs. Raleigh,” she groaned.
“You mean… Medusa?” I made a face. There was a story from the older generations that Mrs. Raleigh could literally turn you into stone with her cold and impassioned face. Her classes were the only ones I never tried to skip because I knew what the consequences were and if I could help it, I wouldn’t be failing biology.
“Don’t fucking remind me. She’s probably gonna start talking about meiosis and mitosis, and I am not high enough to actually listen to that crap today.”
“You never actually listen to her.” I laughed. “I don’t know how you do it, but she never calls you out for your half-assed presence and the other shit you tend to pull.”
“It’s just part of my charm.” She snickered. “But for real,” she lowered her voice, “I’m going to combust if I have to listen to them the whole day. Kane and the gang were talking about going to the crypt today.”
That made me perk up. “When?”
“Fourth period? Are you free or—”
“I will be.” I grinned as the bell started ringing. Students started rushing around us, heading toward their classrooms. “I’ll see you later?” I looked at her. “I’ll just head to the crypt after the third period. Okay?”
“Absolutely.”
Maybe today wouldn’t be a bad day, after all.