Black Promises (Blackwoods College)

The problem with that was that Genni and Robyn still loved the vindictive piece of shit. And he held all the power in this family.

So there wasn’t much to be gained from killing him.

Still, it was tempting.

“Thanks,” Robyn said, leaning her head back against her chair and closing her eyes. “He was going to escalate tonight.”

“I know. I heard it in his voice.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said, looking at me and smiling.

“Probably get your ass beaten more often.” I smiled back, though.

I didn’t know why I treated her like shit in public. It was probably the same impulse that drove me to fight. All those dark feelings, the blackest aspects of my personality, the rotten bits of my soul, they pushed me into pain and violence and degradation. The same reason I liked to get punched in the face was the same reason I liked to torture Robyn at school.

It made me feel something.

Anything at all.

“So what’s the deal with you and Cora?” She spoke so casually that I almost answered truthfully.

You know, just murdering someone together. Usual kid shit.

“There’s nothing going on.”

“I saw the way you looked at her the other day. Honestly, Jarrod, unless I knew better, I’d guess you felt something.”

“Good thing I have no emotions.”

“That’s right, good thing.” She let out a breath and glanced toward the hallway. “Think he’s done for the night?”

“I’ll be home, don’t worry.”

She shifted in her chair. “It’s not that. I’m afraid for you, too. One day he’ll go too far.”

“I can handle him.”

“I know you can. That’s the problem. He’s not some teenager you can beat senseless.”

“That’s right, he’s an old, abusive prick.”

She grimaced and looked down at her hands. “I hate him too, you know. But he’s still my dad.”

“I won’t kill him if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all. The way you’ve been lately—”

I waved her off. I didn’t want to have this conversation again. She’d been on my ass about the drinking and the fighting for months now, and I was sick of the lectures.

Yes, it was self-destructive.

Yes, I’d probably end up at the bottom of a shallow grave.

No, I really didn’t give a shit about myself.

Any other questions?

It was better if we could avoid the subject entirely.

“Shout if you need me.”

“Yeah, all right.”

I left her room and went back to mine. I slammed the door shut and locked the deadbolt I’d installed a couple of years back. Nobody had the key but me, and despite Uncle Bernard’s constant threat to take the door completely off its hinges, it was still my best defense against my psychopath uncle and his constant need to make my life hell.

I put my clean clothes away, then turned on my laptop and fired up my speakers. Drake’s new album blared out, drowning away the negative thoughts swirling through my skull. I grabbed a pocketknife from my nightstand, then knelt next to my bed. I used the blade to pry up a floorboard and gently set it aside on the rug.

I folded up the contract and stuck it inside. Then I reached in and took out a plain black Android phone, fresh from the packaging, and booted it up. I put the floorboard back, then reclined on my bed with my laptop open and the phone in my lap.

I texted Cora.

Jarrod: What are you wearing right now, freak?

She didn’t answer right away. Probably confused by the number she didn’t recognize. I turned on my laptop’s VPN then started to do some research.

Dr. Silver was a model citizen. That immediately got my hackles up. The little shit donated to multiple different charities, most of them focused on helping children, and even sat on the board of a nonprofit clinic focused on providing affordable care to underprivileged members of the community. I didn’t know who the fuck was underprivileged in this affluent area, but there was probably somebody.

My burner phone buzzed.

Cora: Jarrod?

Jarrod: That’s right, freak. Don’t save this number. Actually, you should get a burner phone and a freaking VPN.

Cora: What’s a VPN?

I groaned. We were going to fucking jail.

Jarrod: It’s a way to hide your internet activity.

Cora: Okay, right, I’ll figure that out. And I should get a burner?

Jarrod: Every few weeks.

Cora: Sounds like a lot of work.

Jarrod: Sounds like you want to go to prison.

Cora: Fine, okay, whatever. I’ll get a burner.

Jarrod: Get it tonight. Find me on campus tomorrow and give me the number.

Cora: OKAY!

I smiled and tossed my phone aside. Freak was going to get us caught, but at least I’d have some fun before I rotted in prison for the rest of my life.

As I scrolled through positive story after positive story about Dr. Silver, I reflected on why the fuck I was doing this.

Cora tempted me. That was obvious. The moment I got near her, I wanted to taste her delicious, tight, little body. I was half-hard just thinking about stripping her naked and teasing her until she screamed with pleasure and delight and pain. I wanted to make her hurt and make her come all at once in a bewildering explosion of sensation.