I wanted to tell her that. I wanted her to hear it straight from me that I think she looks perfect as an Oddity girl and I believe she belongs here, with me, with us. If I could’ve said it, I would’ve. But instead, like always, I stayed quiet and wrote whatever insanity left my mind in that moment.
And in return, she did what she seems to do best—tested my fucking patience.
I’m a muted, twisted fucker carved from silence and death. Her? She’s the stubborn pulse of life, defying the quiet I bring. If I’m the grave, she’s the rotting body still scratching its way out, refusing to stay buried.
She thinks she can fight me and survive in my world by spitting in its face, but I’ll keep her chained in my darkness, drag her into the depths where her disobedience will wither and die.
My fingers twitch, the usual disturbed urge slithering under my skin. I want to rip that corset right off her little body with my damn teeth, sink them in, leave my marks imbedded into her flesh and make her feel every second of what she’s doing to me.
Slow. Agonizing. Torture.
Or maybe I’ll be rough, swift and violent.
Ramming my cock so far inside her asshole she’d black out from the intensity, allowing me to continue screwing her while she’s limp. I guess that could still be classed as some form of sick torture if you're the type who looks into it too much—if you have a normal mind. But unfortunately for her, I don’t.
We’re all a little odd here.
And that’s the type of pleasure and pain I deliver.The sadistic, weird shit no one likes to talk about in the outside world. The kind that festers in the back of your mind, rotting, pulsing, begging to be unleashed. And I can’t fucking stand it anymore. It’s only a matter of time before I snap and take exactly what I want.
I’m gonna stain that soul so fucking dark, not even time will dare touch or erase it. I’ll bury myself so deep inside her, she’ll feel me carved into her bones for eternity.
I don’t just want to dismantle her—I want to build her into something only I can tame and violate.
“Not you too,” Soul grumbles, rolling up beside me on his own bike, his voice edged with amusement. “I’m losing another brother, ain’t I?”
My jaw clenches, teeth grinding as I whip my head toward him, fingers moving in quick, irritated signs against my thigh and his gaze drops to the movement.
How about fuck off? I only fuck dead cunt, remember? Does she look hung in my chains to you?
Soul barks out a laugh, deep and dark, his grin splitting his face too wide. His neon green eyes flick back to her, dragging over her body, and I already know he’s about to piss me off.
“To be fair, when she got here, she looked a mess, weak even, but now?” He groans, gripping his cock through his sweats. “Now she looks like one of us, I’d fucking run through her.”
Something new flares hot and furious inside me. It spreads like wildfire, burning deep. Is this what jealousy feels like? Possessiveness?
I. Don’t. Fucking. Like. It.
Before I can process everything or even decide whether to break his fucking fingers for speaking about her like that, Soul lifts his chin, letting out a sharp whistle.
“Yo, new girl!” His loud, obnoxious voice cuts through the tent.
She turns, pretty golden eyes locking onto us, darting between me and Soul. He gestures for her to come over, slow and casual, like he’s fucking summoning her.
I inhale deeply, my grip tightening on one handle of my bike.
I’m gonna kill him.
I hesitantly look at her, watching as she glances at Noir, who looks suspicious, like she already knows this is a bad idea. But stupidly, my little corpse starts walking toward us.
My gaze drags over her as she moves, tracing the shape of her body, the way the corset cinches her waist and how her fishnet-covered legs carry her with a confidence she shouldn’t have yet.
She stops in front of Soul, and the fucker grins, holding out his hand and she side-eyes me first before slipping hers into his.
“Look at you,” Soul growls, tugging her closer before spinning her around like he owns the right to inspect her.
He takes his time, and I catch the small, flattered smile on her lips. She likes the attention, but she doesn’t know Soul like I do. He’s not just playing—he’s doing this to fuck me off and prove a point.
“Have you been given a name yet?” He asks, his green spirals flashing up to hers from behind his white, blonde hair.