Kisses and Lies

Death has many faces.

Some are beautiful.

Some are evil.

But they all lead down the same road.

Pain.

“I never told you about my mother.” Marcus’ eyes are open when I turn to look at him. He hasn’t moved, he’s simply watching me.

“No, not much.”

“She was evil. We raised each other, my brother and I. To her, we were just a government paycheck so she could get high. I used to have to steal her money or steal her drugs to sell, so I could buy food for Blaze and me. She never cared. The most she bought us was one loaf of bread a week, that was when she remembered. And for two growing boys, a single loaf of bread? Well, let’s just say, it doesn’t last long.” He breathes out harshly, and I turn fully to see him. “She was the first real death I witnessed, but not before she used me so she could get what she needed. Her friends, as she liked to call them, would pay her money to do things to us. Burn us. Make us scream. I took most of it, and Blaze would run. I would always tell him to run. The older he got, he stopped listening, and soon I stopped letting her get away with it.”

“You were just kids,” I say, shaking my head.

“She was dead in our trailer for over a week before we called someone. I loved her when she was peaceful, when she was asleep and with no words or motion left in her.”

I just look at him, not really knowing what to say.

Marcus turns on his back and looks up to the ceiling. “I loved her, if that’s even the correct word. She was beautiful, despite all her fucked-up ways. You remind me of her. It’s why Blaze hates you so much. You look like her,” he says it as if it’s a good thing.

“I don’t want to look like a woman who did that to you.”

“I stopped seeing her in you the moment you opened your mouth. It’s the hair… you have her hair.” Marcus sits up, pushes my strawberry-blonde hair behind my ear. “If you died, pretty girl, I would keep you longer than a week. I now know what to do to prevent you from decaying.”

“That’s kind of fucked-up,” I say, my nose turning up at his words.

“I did warn you… I am far from normal.”

“Tell me what you see when you look at me?”

“I see a woman who has her claws in me so deep it hurts. That it’s the first thing in this life I am scared of.”

“And…” I say, climbing to sit on his lap.

“When I look at you…” he smiles, “… I don’t see death. I see life.”

“This is life. Can you feel it?” I ask, reaching between us and sliding him inside of me. His hands grip my hips as I start moving.

“I can feel your pussy.”

“And…”

“The words you want to hear, I’m going to whisper in your ear.”

He moves me faster with the help of his hands on my hips.

“That sweet pussy of yours that’s milking my cock.”

My breathing picks up a notch at his words.

“Yeah, you know the one. The one that’s currently squeezing me so fucking tight that I’m about to come. But I won’t. Do you know why?”

I shake my head.

“Because watching you come is the best thing since watching a body being torn apart. You have become my new favorite thing, pretty girl. If I were you, I wouldn’t encourage it. My obsession has become something you may choose to regret.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Marcus

Rochelle doesn’t want to see the body. I take particular care when I prepare Tanika to be cremated. It’s the most care I’ve taken in anyone I have handled. And in the end, as I watch Tanika burn, I wonder why. What is Rochelle doing to me? And why am I letting it happen?

The following weeks flow by, and not much changes. Except her. She changes. Something in her is gone, and I don’t know exactly what. Not once does she bring up our relationship again or push for anything more. The words that she loves me also never leave her mouth again. It’s as if she’s been frozen in time and cannot escape.

Blaze ignores me as if I am the plague. He doesn’t like Rochelle, and she doesn’t seem to like him either. No matter how much Blaze dislikes her, I can’t seem to stay away.

Rochelle sneaks up from behind me, wrapping her hands around my waist and snuggles into my back. “Let’s stay in,” she says.

I would usually say yes because I hate going out, but the clubhouse is throwing Blaze a party for his birthday, so I have to go. It’s the one time of year I always give him. No matter what.

“Just an appearance,” I reply, turning to her.