Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Not Viv.
First time I went to juvie, she flooded me with mail. Sometimes I got two letters a day from her, all soaking in her sweet perfume.
She romanced me, never truly confessing her feelings but not holding back that much either.
The older I got, the more prison institutions I was thrown into for fucking up. Still Viv wrote, long after my family had given up. Sure, Jazz sent letters once a week, preaching about how I could do better or raving about this or that ingredient in some stupid dish, but Viv’s words were what I waited around for at mail time.
Her letters improved with her age. Less perfume, yet when they came, I closed my eyes and imagined myself next to her, analyzing the softness of her flesh. She sent pictures too, ones with her on the beach or with little pink boy shorts as she stood in front of a canvas of her art. She had to know what she did to me, had to guess in her head how many times I’d stroked my dick as I longingly stared at those photos.
In the hospital room, my dick stiffened.
I let go of her hand.
Sister. She’s your sister, man.
All my life this blue-eyed sweetheart slickly courted me. When I got out this last time and showed up at her and Jazz’s apartment, she had to know why I was there. I could smell her arousal as she sat next to me rolling a joint. She craved me, slyly rubbing against my arm each time she walked by.
Fuck. Forget about that.
In the hospital room, my dick refused to go down. I rose and headed out of there.
Sister. Chill, man.
I had to check on Jazz real quick anyway. She said she would stay away from that rich fuck, Chase. Next thing I heard, she’s shot and that motherfucker was right next to her. Benny gave me the news. He was all polite-like, even seemed scared to talk to me.
Let that bitch-ass be scared. He’s lucky I can’t get at him like I want to.
Benny hung with thugs. Only difference between his thugs and me was that they wore suits and hid their guns behind expensive jackets.
“What’s up?” I nodded at two of his guys standing outside Viv’s room. The one who nodded back at me had a huge scar on his neck. I headed to the staircase and considered that scar.
Definitely a sharp object with a jagged edge. Whoever cut him grabbed something quick and tried to rush for the jugular. Either way, I bet the guy who tried is no longer breathing.
I’d seen enough fights in the yard to guess at the origins of wounds. After reading about animals or some other scientific oddity, injuries were a hobby. I boxed when I could, fought when I didn’t have a handle on my temper, but science books on any topic kept me motivated to wake up another day even behind bars.
I arrived at Jazz’s floor in no time.
Only Jazz and Viv would end up in the same hospital on the same day. They’re going to get me killed.
Even more men guarded Jazz’s door. None was so blatant like downstairs. It just looked like eight burly men lounging outside. Some read magazines in chairs. Others messed with their phones.
They all knew I had walked up, though.
I could sense it in the air.
That odd energy around me seemed to pause. It was like that sensation of someone watching me. I got that a lot when I stepped onto an elevator with an old white woman or even walked behind one at night on an empty street. Her breathing would pick up as she noticed all the tattoos on my arm. I never tried to hide who I was, even when Jazz pleaded with me to conform.
The man closest to the door looked up at me as if warning my behind to tread carefully.
“Jazz is my sister,” I said.
The guy returned to his phone. Just when I was about to open the door, it opened on its own. The scent of blood thickened the air. I knew who it was before I saw his face. Weird thing about him, that odor usually clung on his clothes whether he knew it or not.
Blood.
Just this odd smell I always sensed from him.
Blood and death.
Every now and then I caught a scent of cologne, but most of the time, to me, he smelled like blood.
“Son of a bitch will be dead as soon as she leaves him alone,” he muttered and bumped into me. “Shit. Troy? I’m sorry.”
I stayed there, waiting for him to be the one to walk around and get out of my way.
Sometimes it’s the little things.
“You want to kill Chase?” I frowned.
“He’s trying to buy your sister’s love. You know that, right?” He got behind me, which forced me to turn around. I hated dangerous men in a room with me where I couldn’t see them. Cursing under his breath, Benny paced in the center of the waiting area. “He bought your mom a house and paid for private school for your nieces and nephews.”