Wicked Road Page 4

  That's when I fumed. My insides boiled. I wrung my sweater by my hands. I got really mad at him. I shook my head sideways giving him a pair of green squinting eyes, and almost headed out of his bedroom until he caught my arm gently.

  “Donnie, wait,” he said.

  My blood warmed by his touch. I stopped running away from him, and obeyed his voice, but did not stare at him. I allowed my ears to hear, but nothing more.

  “Didn't expect you to come this early. I know I should have told you a long time ago. I'm sorry.” He said, his voice scratchy with emotion. He knew what I was feeling! Good for him.

  I was on the verge of tears. Darn! I was much too sensitive of a person. Did he not care how I'd feel once I found out? “Why did you keep it from me?”

  It took him awhile to answer. “It's just something unexplainable. Something I can't really talk about.”

  My tears vanished away with one long blink. I turned my face to look at him with regret in my eyes.

  “Please understand...”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and I kept my feet planted on the ground where I stood. I sighed. Well, he really wasn't the only one with secrets. I have a couple of my own that I haven't shared with him yet. I couldn't stay angry at him for a long time.

  I smirked and said, “Okay I forgive you. If this secret is too secretive then I don't mind keeping it a secret.”

  “A secret from everyone,” he told me, his eyes widening. “The only people that do know are my parents, and now you.”

  “You can count on me,” I told him, and smiled, everything going back to normal now. “Now about that movie...”

  “You're just in time,” he said returning the smile.

  We were watching the movie in his game room with loads of junk food on the table. Nothing made me feel better than chocolate. It was my best friend – more like my other best friend. It calmed my anger and my depression. This movie just made my eating habits worse. I was eating chocolate like crazy.

  Did he have to pick this sad, romantic, and vengeful movie? Tears wet my eyelashes as I tried chewing on a bite of chocolate.

  Great, now my makeup was going to smear. Darn. Oh well...to make things more embarrassing, I had the urge to sniffle. And I was sitting right beside him. I hoped he didn't notice since it could’ve been just a stuffy nose.

  “Are you crying?” he asked, looking at me with worry in his voice, worry on his expression. Crap, he noticed. He knew me too well.

  “No,” my voice cracked. That just made things worse. I took a tissue, and wiped away my falling silent tears. “Okay, yes. It's just a sad movie.”

  “Oh,” was all he said. He got up on his feet, and went to the T.V. to change it. What was he doing? I still wanted to watch it.

  “No, this is okay,” I said straightening up. “It's just that I had to watch my parents’ burn to death in our house while he–,”

  He cut me off, and gave me a sorry face. “Aw crap Donnie. Thanks for reminding me. I'm so sorry I chose this movie. I didn’t think this would affect you.”

  He was about to push the stop button until I put my hands in front of me and shook them sideways with eyes open wide saying, “No, no, no. Don't turn it off. I'll handle it. You already know it happened a long time ago. I'm used to it.” Honestly, it felt as if my heart had been stabbed, aching in my chest, as the memory came back to life in my head. I pushed it away just as quickly as it’d come.

  He gave up by believing in what I said and just sat back down against the sofa.

  The movie was about Satanism. A cult of Satanists killed two pure, innocent lovebirds. The only reason why the gang leader killed them was because he wanted power to become a demon, and to do so he needed pure aura.

  What really got to me was the love the innocent guy felt towards his other half.

  I know I have never fallen in love before. I never experienced it in my life, and I'm seventeen years old. I don't even know how it feels. I don't know why. It can be either because my heart is picky or either I just don't believe in it. It felt...dead to me like decayed roses. It may be because I am dead and cold on the inside. I don't even believe in hope or wishes. Somehow, they just didn't exist anymore, because it all failed to grant me what I wanted. It all died long ago when my parents have gone forever.

  After the movie ended I stretched before I turned to look at him. Usually, when I looked at his serene, quiet, calm face, my heart fluttered quietly. I could literally feel my heavy heart pulsing against my chest, echoing in my ears. I ignored it like I always do since it's been going on for a while. I'm sure it’s nothing. But why do I always feel warm when I'm around him? And why can't I stay angry at him for a long time? I also ignored those questions in my head. They were pointless thoughts anyway.

  He grabbed a tissue and looked at me. He crept closer to me. My heart raced. I swear my blood pulsed in my ears. He raised his hand to the side of my lip and his other hand under my chin to hold it in place. Holding his breath so he didn’t make me sick too, he began wiping away something with that tissue.

  For some reason, I wanted him to make a move. I wanted him...closer more than usual. My blood rushed and coursed through my veins like fire. I felt my cheeks flush. I didn't dare move, not even while he held my chin in place. I waited until he finished. With the final touch, he didn't say a word, but exhaled hugely. I bet it felt like minutes to him.

  He showed me what he wiped away with the tissue saying, “Chocolate.”

  I blushed crimson.

  Then we were quiet.

  It’s like he preferred the silence over everything, over anything. Sorry to say, but it was getting awkward by the second.

  So I broke it by clearing my voice, and asking him, “When did you start playing the guitar?” The question had been burning in my head for a bit now.

  He looked at me and spoke softly in that scratchy, mucked up voice of his. “Since I was seven. My dad bought me a kiddy classic guitar. When I played with the strings that's when I became obsessed with guitars.”

  “You'd be perfect in Scarlet Dawn's Scars...” I told him with frustration. Scarlet Dawn's Scars is the name of Matt's band.

  “I know...But I can't.” He sighed, “It's complicated.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and stayed calm since he sounded defeated. Why did he sound defeated? “How complicated?”

  He closed his eyes, and sighed again, but with slight agitation. He opened his eyes a while later without looking at me.

  “I gotta get to work. I'm already late.” He stood up and I followed him out of the house with no questions, or answers.

  The thought of the 'guitar' subject annoyed him after seeing it in his blue, kohl eyes, and the emptiness that blanketed his face.

  Now I just wondered, what could possibly anger him from not sharing that information with me? Why did it bother him so much? Why did he not care to tell me? Was he afraid that if he told me he'd get in trouble? Was he afraid to hurt my feelings? Or was it his dignity or pride or something? Or did he think I wouldn't keep it a secret for long? Did I do something that made him question my trust? Who was the problem behind his agitation?

  Suddenly, I was feeling anxious about myself. All of these questions seemed pointless to ask since I wasn’t going to get an answer for them, and didn't know the answer for them.

  Chapter

  Two

  On Saturday – two days ago – we went to the beach, except Marylin, and very weird things happened with Ronnie. He stared at me as if he were seeing an angel for the first time. I didn't feel weird, but confused as to why he would look at me that way.

  Was it longing? I never looked at him that way. Not that I paid any attention to when I looked into his eyes. I looked now and there was a longing pain in them. Something about those blue eyes was sad to look at. I didn't understand what it was. But then I started to question, asking myself, did he like me? And for some reason I liked it. I enjoyed it when he was staring at me that way. It made me feel...specia
l, and all fluttery and jittery. Should I be angry about it though? Even if I enjoyed it, there was something else behind that mask on his face. I couldn't put my finger on it.

  Or maybe it could be over my two-piece swim suit. I mean it was too cute not to admire.

  Since the day Marylin stared at me through the curtain of his hair when I went over to Ronnie's house, it wasn't the first time; he'd been doing it a lot more than usual. Marylin gave me winks at random times. I'd get the chills from him. I wondered if Mathew had noticed the way he’d been staring at me, like he wanted to devour me. Mathew was the type of guy that would kick a guy's butt for trying to do anything rash to a lady or a girl.

  Ronnie caught me singing once. Never in my existence have I told him I could sing. He did get frustrated about it, although we were even now. He’d kept his guitar secret from me while I’d kept my singing secret from him. We were fair and square now.

  It was fun after that though. Ronnie and I made our own little limited band. I sang while he played the guitar. And we weren't so bad. But when I would sing, there was this affection in his eyes. I wished so bad he was in Marylin's spot.

  Being in school right now, Matt and I had History together; fifth period. He was taking it, because he felt like he needed to know more about history. Especially when it came to how music was formed and first found, such as the whole flapper generation. Even though Matt was already at a college level, he was still waiting on me to graduate so we can both enter college together. So, right now, he was taking extra-curricular activities.

  I raised my hand for permission to be allowed to go to the bathroom. On my way back from the restroom my head started to hurt like hell, like as if something was pushing the insides of my brain aside to take control and was attacking my nerves.

  Wincing in pain, my forehead started beading with sweat. I closed my eyes to let pass whatever the hell was going on. I stopped walking and stood against the wall to rest. All of a sudden, the pain was gone, just vanished. And instead of heading back to history class, I headed the opposite direction.

  I looked around. The coast was clear...What in hell was I doing? Where in hell was I taking myself? Why did I keep looking around me every once in a while to check if anyone was around or following me? And why couldn't I have total control over my own damn body, but I could my mind?! Why did I send myself to the school's abandoned number nine supply closet?

  What the hell is going on?! I shouted in my head. I went inside the closet and waited. But waited for what?! I needed to get out of here. This was bad. Very, very bad...

  The door opened then and Marylin entered with a video camera.

  “You came to the right place at the right time, sugar,” he told me with a wicked smile.

  Eww! Did he just call me sugar? I thought. Disgusting pervert.

  “Alright,” he said mostly to himself. Then, he spoke in an unfamiliar language, a language that sounded so ancient. A language I'd never heard in my life. It freaked me out. I felt goose bumps forming all over my body.

  My body chilled, tingled with fear. My heart was racing with excruciating fright. Why did I feel cold all around me?

  He turned the recording button on and backed away to get a perfect view. The next thing I knew, I started taking my own shirt off! I wanted to scream, but couldn't. For one thing I knew for sure was I was possessed by something. Something I knew I couldn't control whatsoever. It had total control of my body.

  Taking my shirt off on top of my head, I dropped it to the ground. I stayed in my very tight undershirt as he spoke seductively.

  “Nice,” he responded, his mesmerized eyes glued to the camera screen.

  My shaking hands went for my undershirt. When it was being pulled upward, baring my skin, I just wanted to scream, and not in my own head. But who'd hear me?

  I cried, feeling a tear slowly make its way down my chin, in utter mortification. I was being taken advantage of in such an evil way. My mind could not begin to comprehend the distinct horror I was undergoing. Deep down I knew I was unable to stop this, to do anything to protect myself.

  The door swung open swiftly. To my joy, it was Mathew. I wanted to run to him, hug him, and cry unto his shoulder. I was rescued. Looking at Mathew's face, his eyes turned sad once he saw me, seeing my pain and tears.

  When he turned to Marylin, his eyes turned into anger. Without any hesitation, Mathew punched Marylin in the face. He snatched the camera from his hand, threw it on the floor, and stepped on it a million times. I suddenly burst into tears after realizing I now had hold of my body.

  I put my shirt back on and stood behind Mathew. He kept punching the hell out of Marylin. Seriously, just punch after punch, fist after fist. He looked really scary. I’ve never, ever, seen this side of him and it made me scared. I was worried about his hand.

  “Stop Mathew. That's enough,” I told him with never ending tears and sobs. But he wouldn't.

  Then I saw Mathew's bloody hand. I ran to Mathew and pulled him away by hugging him from behind. His heart was racing wildly, and his light gray shirt was filled with dots of blood. I looked over at Marylin. All I saw on his face was the color red everywhere. It was all over his face, his neck, but mostly on his mouth and nose.

  Where was a teacher when you needed one?!

  Matt didn't look away from Marylin. He walked over to him, took him by his shirt crinkling it into his fist, and pushed him against the lockers with a loud bang. I thought I heard and saw Marylin's head jerk real quick.

  Mathew spoke in a very angry, whispering tone with gritted teeth, “Listen you asshole, if you ever come near Donnie again, I swear I will fucking kill you. Just get one hundred miles within her distance, and you'll get it. And that's a promise.”

  Marylin just started to laugh.

  “You think this is funny?” Mathew shouted at him with a disgusted face, and banged him against the lockers again, hard.

  After all that beating, and threats of violence, he laughed. The guy was totally whacked out of his mind. He was a total weirdo. No, not weirdo, he was more of a psychotic.

  “I am dead serious!” Mathew shouted. “You know what, how about I just fucking kill you right now!” Mathew shoved Marylin against the lockers hard. He raised up his fist, but before he could swing it at him, two male teachers came running who pulled him away.

  One of them ordered, “The three of you, to the principal's office. Now!”

  Marylin pushed himself away from the lockers, while I went to Mathew, and took his arm in mine to lead him to the principal's office with me.

  “It's not over Ronalds,” he told Matt, pointing his finger at him while walking away.

  One of the two teachers was taking us to the principal's office while the other one took Marylin in the opposite direction.

  “Yeah, whatever Satan fucker. You're out of my band. Consider yourself disqualified!” Matt shouted back at him.

  SAY WHAT?! Satan? Is that what he was? Are the rumors true? Or was Mathew just saying that because he's so upset? I was sick and tired of not having answers to any question I asked myself!

  “Young man, watch your language,” the guy teacher warned him.

  “Let me go. I'm fine,” he said yanking his arm away from the teacher's grasp.

  Awhile later, still on the way to the principal's office, Matt looked at me with worry saying, “Are you okay?” I figured he’d calmed down some.

  I hugged him, fresh new tears escaping. He kissed my head as we walked on.

  Even though the world kept reminding me that he wasn't my real brother, I didn't care. To me, he was my true, real brother. The type of brother I should’ve had. Every girl like me should have one. He was my hero.

  I've visited the principal's office a couple of times in my life when I got caught for skipping my classes. Sometimes I got away with it saying an excuse like I was in the bathroom. And there were times where I would just get in trouble from Tina Reese and her followers. Let's just say he's not going to be happy when he saw me t
his time.

  Matt wanted to know what exactly happened, and what brought me there, what made me go there. Telling him the whole thing, I thought he'd accuse me saying I was crazy, but he definitely believed me – he wasn't happy about it. And I wondered why he believed in what I said. And my question is this; is Marylin really a devil worshiper?

  Having my arms still wrapped around Matt's waist, I looked at his injured hand.

  “Let me see your hand,” I told him, and reach out for it. He moved it away.

  “Its fine,” he said in a sad, but determined way.

  “Just let me have a look at it,” I told him softly.

  He huffed, and placed his hand in mine. It was either busted up or it was Marylin's blood. I had no idea which. It needed to be cleaned to tell.

  While I examined it from top to bottom, I asked, “How'd you know I–.”

  He cut me off already knowing my question, “I followed you after you went out to the bathroom. When you went in, I figured nothing was going to go wrong. So I went to the guy's restroom until I felt something was going wrong. When I knew I lost you, I listened for your chains you have attached on your skinny jeans belt loop. And followed the sound of it...Do not get anywhere near him.”

  I looked up at him once I gave him back his hand. “I know. And is it true that he's a demon worshiper?”

  It took him awhile to answer. “Yes.”

  At this point I had to choose my words carefully not to sound as if I were defending him. “How? How do you know? I mean, you can't just judge by his looks, and–.”

  He sighed, “Aside from judging, when he comes to practice he always talks nonsense. We barely would understand what he'd be talking about when he's talking about 'the others'. We have no idea who the hell they are. He talks to himself. I've seen some weird, fucked up symbolic tattoos on him. He's always wearing long sleeves, and never cuffs them up. Never. Jade told me once he caught markings on Marylin's wrists of some...hidden message or something when he stretched once while warming up to play. It was in some weird language, and it definitely wasn't Arabic or Hebrew or Chinese. It was an older, ancient writing. It's like it was...carved into his skin...”