Crash and Burn (1)

you know i like it rough, lace

**UPDATE 12/4/2021: PLEASE WP Gods allow my dirty GIFS to stay 😅 It's... PG-13. ALSO, daaaaang, I forgot...

MY BABIES ARE SO BAD FOR EACH OTHER.

I love you all so much that I have to tell you that I don't condone this. I do want to point that out. As someone who has been in an abusive relationship, there are so, so, so many red flags in a situation like this. It's not always physical. Soren is...a dynamic character. I love him, but he has a lot of methods to manipulation, one of them being sex. From experience, it's very, very easy to get lost in that type of manipulation. Lust. Children, stay away from it.

Unfortunately, Lacey is always letting him do this kind of stuff to her. Take it from me, it's a hard thing to break yourself out of. As a character who has experienced manipulation/coercion first hand from Seth, Lacey...succumbs to it very quickly. But she's working on it.

♚ ♛

ONCE WE WERE INSIDE, Soren shut the window completely before placing the wooden board back up against the glass. As he did it, the scent of dust hit me. Nothing disgusting or dirty, just...unlived in.

I stepped into the tiny, well-kept living room, something in the pale grey and blue colors that made me feel comfortable. A round, wooden side table sat beside a couch that was facing a TV and a set of boarded windows.

A soft, beige carpet lined the entire living room, only breaking off at the threshold of a white door that was slightly ajar, revealing the sliver of a small bathroom.

I was struck by how clean it was. There was nothing miscellaneous sitting on the table or the couch or the floor. And even as my eyes wavered to the small connecting kitchen, I found that there were only a few dishes on the counter that looked untouched. It made it feel empty.

"How long has it been since anyone's lived here?" I tried to feign nonchalance.

"It doesn't matter."

God, he really couldn't answer anything, could he?

Van Brunt Street.

I'd seen it in Soren's things.

Laura. 300 Van Brunt Street. Brooklyn, 11231.

"What happened to her then?" I asked breathlessly. I didn't remember the date that was written on the post it note, but I could tell that it was months ago.

I heard Soren's sharp intake of breath before I spun to face him. He'd already slipped off his sweatshirt and when I saw his arms tense, I felt my heart rate pick up. "Who?"

"Laura." It felt strange to say her name when I'd forgotten all about her. Who was she? "I remember seeing this address with her name."

"And I remember telling you that I don't answer to you, Lacey."

Pursing my lips, I met his hard gaze. He'd told me that they were dead. That he was the reason all those women were dead.

Were we standing in the apartment of a woman he'd killed?

"Soren..." I shook my head, trying to think of what to say. Did I really want to know if he'd killed her? Was it any different than watching him curb stomp someone this morning?

"Don't fucking push it, Lacey."

Breathe.

His eyes narrowed, and I could almost feel myself shrink under his scathing look. He was still angry.

Breathe.

"Soren," I tried to say, but everything stuck in my throat. All the things that I knew I couldn't ask or say. How was I supposed to ask him to tell me when I couldn't tell him anything?