Wicked Ones {bxb}

{Chapter 20 : The S Word}

"Vinny what's the matter?"

She had opened the door of her apartment to greet him in the pouring rain. A look of sheer agony was inscribed on his face, eyes swollen red from the acid of his tears and the rush of narcotized blood. It had been a week since Sage's death, and he just couldn't cope with his storm of emotions. They'd both left him behind, Sage and Kailan. He had no one else to turn to.

She was a soccer player. An environmentalist. An animal lover—and the first person to befriend Vincent for more than just his money's worth. Gigi was the epitome of innocence only a year ago. She still would be, if only she hadn't invited him in that night.

Vincent sat up with a gasp, sweat chilling his back with the late night draft. He ran his hand through his hair, slicking it back with lingering sweat. The room he found himself in was foreign, and yet familiar. Silken sheets melted from his body as he pulled himself to the edge of his bed, and rubbed circles into his eyes until his head stilled. The sleeping body next to him hadn't moved an inch, until he crouched down beside her and shook her by the shoulder.

She let off a soft grunt, her thick lashes fluttering open. Then, as she gazed upon him, she smiled. "Look at you," she whispered, her fingers reaching up to brush the sweat on his brow. "You really had a rough one, didn't you?"

"Enough," Vincent snapped, shoving her hand away. "Where are my clothes?"

She gestured to a chair in the distance, and he ripped his shirt from the wooden arm, prying it on as he walked. He was livid, and if he hadn't gotten out soon, he wasn't sure he'd get out at all without injuring someone in the process. He slammed the door as he left the woman's apartment and stumbled onto the city sidewalk.

Sleeping with a part of his somber past—it wasn't that big a deal. He'd been with Gigi before, he'd woken up in that room, in that bed—he'd found himself there only a year ago. But it was different this time. He had been taken advantage of, long after he swore away his vicing habits. He broke a promise to himself, and now he was left to wonder how someone so terribly wealthy could feel so awfully cheap.

He paced the sidewalk for a long while, before deciding to take his anger out on a wooden pole nearby. It only took a few hard punches to calm his fury, and by then his knuckles were riddled with splinters and stripped of flesh. He clasped the bleeding skin and leaned back against the post with a heaving sigh. He couldn't even light a damn cigarette.

Kailan laid in bed, watching the ceiling while music pressed a gentle beat into his ears. He felt ill; a nauseous, anxious squall in his stomach that hadn't gone away in several hours.

It was late. Too late to be awake when he had classes in the morning, but sleep was a distant thought. So he focused only on his breathing, and let the lyrics serenade him into a push and pull of mediocre mitigation. Music usually soothed his nerves. Painting and music—they were his refuge, but he was low on supplies, and the life of an artist was a costly one. So there he lay, hushing his nerves the only way he knew how. The only way that didn't require a little white pill.

But the music was hardly a proper substitute for medication. His heart was still a hollow echo in his chest, something evil squeezing his body like he was trapped in the angry clutches of a celestial god.

Vinny hadn't come home yet, and a worried storm was brewing in Kailan's head. Would he come back at all, now that he knew the truth?

It pissed him off, how dependent he suddenly felt. His chest rose and fell once more with a heavy sigh. All signs of shaking had stopped long ago, but now he was nervous, and anxiously wondering why Vinny so suddenly disappeared; why he'd vanished, right after Kailan came out to him. He would have called April to help calm his nerves, but he knew the girl was asleep. Now he was left alone to his thoughts, and they weren't the nicest of company.