Red Thorns (Thorns Duet 1)

“No. If you don’t see what’s wrong with your statement, I won’t spell it out for you.”

And with that, we both leave my apartment building. I wait until Nate gets into his car before I head to mine.

I had planned to run to the forest, but his unexpected visit made me lose time I don’t have.

Fifteen minutes later, I park down the road and hike the rest of the way. The sun has finished its descent past the horizon, leaving a small line of violet in the distance.

The color black is slowly staking its claim on the tall trees and the dirt path. My muscles tighten with exertion as I run the distance upward, keeping my steps as quiet as possible.

It’s not hard. If anything, it doesn’t take much effort to be a shadow.

It’s been in me since the moment I had to disappear so I wouldn’t meet my parents’ fate.

The moment I became a shadow and watched their vacant eyes stare at nowhere as blood marred them.

Logically, that’s when my need for violence started.

I recognized it when I was a boy and had to do something about it after I beat up one of my classmates in elementary school. My grandparents got me into coping therapy and I had a shit-ton after that.

But the only way I could slowly get past the need to hurt was when I embraced sports. Nate used to play catch with me and then wrestle me to the ground, making me kick and scream.

So I chose football.

A violent enough game to wean down my constant need for violence. I wanted to go with boxing when I was a kid, but Grandma clutched her pearls, which was an indirect no.

I’ve managed to survive all this time.

Until her.

Naomi.

I can no longer control my violent urges when it comes to her. They blossomed the first time I chased her through this forest. Then they peaked when I took her like an animal on the stairs.

And now, they can only go up.

My feet come to a halt behind a tree when I make out her silhouette in the darkness. She’s standing by the rock, grabbing one of her arms as she stares sideways.

I’m more than a half hour late, yet she didn’t leave.

She waited like a good prey.

I don’t have to see her face to recognize the darkness. I can feel it even all the way to here. I can taste it in the air, and if I touch her, it’ll break through me and yank out the beast inside me.

My breathing deepens and I slowly let the metaphorical shackles drop around me.

I don’t have to put a mask on right now or pretend that the twisted feeling lurking under my skin isn’t there.

I get to let go, to feed on another human’s screams and fights.

By the time I’m finished, she’ll realize that not ending the fantasy was a big fucking mistake.

One we’ll both pay for.

20

Naomi

Tonight, I’m prey.