Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Preppy. It’s me,” I said again, taking another step toward him. There was no fucking way I was leaving him in that condition. I was either going to find a way to drag him out of it or we were going down together.
“Go away,” he barked, his voice a strangled cry. He fell to his knees, bracing himself with one hand on the carpet as he continued to stroke himself furiously, growling in frustration until finally he stood up and stepped out of his jeans.
“I’m not going anywhere, Preppy.”
He paced the room, yelling at the wall. He overturned the desk. He paced back to his nightstand, where he leaned over and snorted three lines of blow in a row. He ran to the closet and came out wielding a large pocket knife, stabbing it into the drywall and running it down to the baseboard with his teeth bared and his face turning ten shades of red. His knuckles were white. “I was a good boy!” he cried out. “Bad boys have wrinkled pants. Bad boys wear t-shirts and ripped jeans. I was a good boy. No fucking wrinkles. I was such a good boy!” he yelled as his fist sailed through the wall.
Preppy was in the grips of his own personal hell and I had no idea how to drag him back out.
“Fuck you! Fuck yoooooouuuuuuuu,” he screamed to the ceiling, banging his head against the wall again and again, so hard his eyebrow split and blood trailed down his face, narrowly missing his eye.
“Don’t do this!” I shouted. “Stop! Stop!” I cried, jumping up onto a coffee table that was pushed against the wall.
“Die motherfucker! You’re dead, just fucking die you god damned asshole!” he screamed again, the tendons tight in his neck and the veins in his forearms popping at the surface of his skin. I reached for him, grabbing his face on both sides and pulled him toward me. Consequences be damned.
He swatted at my hands and pulled away.
“Don’t you see? He broke me. I’m broken!” he shouted. His eyes were bloodshot and his voice raspy from yelling. “And that fucking bitch let it happen! She fucking let it happen!”
“You’re okay. You’re not there anymore.”
“But I am! I’m always fucking there!” He pushed his hands through his hair and looked as if he were pulling it out. He spun in a circle and dropped to his knees again, tugging on his cock.
“No!” I screamed, “Look at me.” I jumped off the coffee table and got on my knees, pressing my forehead to his. “Samuel Clearwater, you are a good man. I see that in you. Everyone sees that in you. Don’t let him take that away from you.”
Preppy stared straight at the wall. “I hate him. I hate her. I hate them so fucking much.”
“I do too,” I said, not realizing that I’d started to cry along with him. “I do too,” I repeated, because I truly meant it. “I hate that man and what he did to you. If he were still alive I’d kill the fucker myself and if I were here when she came I wouldn’t have stopped you if you tried to kill her.”
Preppy stood up abruptly, knocking me back onto my ass. He slammed his open palms against the wall, and dropped his forehead against it, the blood from his eyebrow splattering on the light blue paint. I jumped to my feet and again hopped up onto the coffee table, needing the height in order to put myself at his level. I grabbed his face again and when he tried to rip it away I dug my fingers into his cheeks and pulled harder, until he had no choice but to look at me.
“Go away, I’m just going to hurt you,” he said, his eyes bulging from his head.
“Then hurt me.” Preppy was staring right at me, but he was looking right through me. “Hurt me. Let me make this better for you.”
I pulled him closer and felt his cock hardening against my thigh.
“I…” he started, wrestling with his words and feelings, and unable to communicate to me what he needed, but thankfully I already knew.
“It’s okay,” I assured him, tugging him back. “You need me?”
“Yes,” he choked out. “I need you. So much.”
“Then use me,” I said, putting every ounce of determination I have into my voice. “I WANT you to use me.” I took a step back and lifted my shirt over my head. I unclasped my bra and tossed it to the floor.
I stepped down from the table and stood in the middle of the room, my breasts exposed to him. I unbuttoned my shorts and Preppy’s eyes roamed down my body. Up on the table he looked very much like an evil demon, a gargoyle high up on a castle wall. The moonlight from the window behind him casting him in an eerie shadow.