A stalker, age-gap dark romance
Harley- She's a small-town girl, with a head full of ambiguous dreams that reach as high as the stars. However, after her world gets turned upside down by the murder of her brother and her boyfriend, she begins to spi...
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It's been a week now, and I haven't seen Scotty or Brixton since that morning in my apartment. I'm worried, but at the same time, I'm not. Brixton is my biggest concern, not Scotty. He draws me to him in a way similar to how a moth is drawn to a flame. I'm addicted to him, and without him, I can't function-just like an addict and his bag of fucking drugs. I've been staying away from my apartment as well, and have made a lot of money from spending all of my time at the club. I'm not sure what to do with it. While moving has crossed my mind, I'm not yet ready to let Alec go in that way. I've considered returning to school, but my drug problem is far too fucking severe for any hope of normalcy. I've even considered switching fucking jobs again, but for some reason I find it difficult to leave the life I've fallen into. I crave the risk and danger that it entails. It's the only thing that makes me feel alive. I feel a sense of comfort and safety in the crime that riddles my surroundings. How could I walk away from all of that?
The fast moving clouds swirl around me as I lie here on the roof of my apartment, trapped in a zone I can not seem to escape. I haven't been home in days, and the first time I've been here, all I've done is stay on the roof. I keep trying not to think about what happened with Scotty, but the incident follows me wherever I go. It could have been way worse than what it was, but it was still fucked up and wrong on so many levels. He drugged me and told me afterwards. Then he fucked me, knowing I could not fight him off. My body enjoyed it, but I didn't. It still doesn't make it right, but I currently wonder to myself if I'm making a bigger deal out of it than I should.
The door squeaks open, yanking me out of the frightening haze. When I turn to see who it is that has decided to disturb my quiet depression, Brixton is standing there with dark eyes filled with pools of rage, which astounds me beyond belief. His gaze grows threatening and possessive, sending a chill down my spine and causing me to shiver. I take a deep breath and slowly swallow as he gets closer, hands in pockets, and a gun visibly tucked into his waistband. The sun is shining today, and the rays bounce off of him, highlighting the stunning features that make up his physique. The vivid ink that has been etched into his skin glows, as though it were under a spotlight to highlight its beauty. He has an absolutely sinful and lethal appearance. Is that not the ideal combination, though? Yes, it's the perfect combination, but it's also toxic as fuck. Why are the beautiful ones always so bad for us? It's not fair. Someone must be getting off on setting us all up to fucking fail.
The sun was previously shining down on me, but his shadow now blocks it, and judging by the expression on his face, he doesn't give a fuck.
"What, Brixton?" I ask with a slight annoyance laced in my low voice, hoping to break the thick tension between us.
"Why the fuck are you asking me what?" He snarls at me, morphing into someone I don't recognize. Then again, did I ever know Brixton or anything about him?
"You're standing over me and staring."
"I can do whatever the fuck I want, little bird. And if I want to stand here fucking watching you, I will." He spits a gooey glob of saliva onto the roof near my chair.
