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Broken Glass Syndrome; ~ Malus ~
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Topic Started: Sep 29 2015, 11:50 AM (344 Views)
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Nova
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Sep 29 2015, 11:50 AM
Post #1
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Storm Demon
- Posts:
- 16
- Group:
- Demon (Mod)
- Member
- #352
- Joined:
- September 9, 2015
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The road was dark and empty, the stone paving cracked and broken in places. Trash and broken bits of tossed away and unwanted things littered the edge of the abandoned path. The tiny eyes of rats glittered in the shadows as the small creatures scuttled along through this dark, abandoned part of the city. Patches of shifting silver moonlight lay splashed across the buildings and road; ever disappearing behind thick rain clouds.
At the end of the twisted, overgrown pavement stood a large house. Formerly a manor owned by some rich man in years past, now it was a rotting corpse that the locals tried to forget about; tried to cover up underneath signs and broken boards. Even in the patchy moonlight it was easy to see that the once lush and beautiful rose bushes that had lined its walk were withered, dead and blackened. The beautiful ivy that had before, cradled the home in its arms; was now twisted and clutched the house in a tight, thorny grasp.
The house had long since been abandoned, condemned and then forgotten. Yet, there was a light on in it; an eerie white light shone through the ragged, moth-eaten curtains covering a large broken window on the main floor of the manor. Had anyone come wandering up the crooked pathway that lead to the spooky looking house, they would've likely turned and run in fright.
The light however, was not from some ghost or poltergeist. No unearthly spirit wandered the empty halls or painted things upon the walls. It was not some undead soul bound to the home in some cruel and twisted ritual and no murder victims lie beneath the floor boards.
The light came from a simple turn crank LED lamp – the same kind you'd get from the hardware store for camping.
It was a fairly large one, sitting on a once lavish, coffee table in a tarnished sitting room. The white light cast its glow over the room, reflecting off the mirrors hanging on the walls and the dusty glass figurines sitting on shelves and in cabinets.
Thin blue-grey smoke rose into the air, drifting upward from the slightly parted lips of one Niklas Von Vallendar. The teenager reclined on a partially collapsed sofa, one arm stretched across the back of it, the other draped over his leg, lit cigarette held between his fingers. He had one leg crossed over the top of his other, sneakered toe tapping to whatever music played in his headphones. On the floor, leaning up against the sofa were his black and red roller blades and open back pack.
He hadn't gone to school that day. Or the day before. He hadn't gone today, because he didn't want to deal with the fucking guidance counselor again or put up with the stupid pitying looks from the adults who did jack shit when he wandered in banged up.
He hadn't gone yesterday because he just hurt way too damn much.
Nikas took another long drag on his cigarette, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he breathed in the soothing nicotine. He'd been there for several hours, fully aware of the blinking light on his cell phone, telling him he had missed calls and text messages. But he didn't want to listen to them and he didn't want to hear anyones voice. Not yet anyway. Just one more smoke; then maybe he'd answer.
Anyone who mattered would know where to find him.
Sometimes it was the park; but only after the little kiddies had left for the day. No need to deal with the shitty looks from actually decent parents. Sometimes it was the mall, but not when fucking Larry was working. God, he hated that guy. What an asshole security guard he was; one day Nik was going to take that walkie-talkie of his and shove it right up his damn ass before he could call the police again.
Sometimes it was that weird little back alley in behind the hotel downtown. One could acquire some good shit from the people that came by there from time to time.
But usually it was in this house.
It had been a most satisfying feeling when he and Mal had kicked in and torn off the boards covering the front door several years prior. It was their house and for all its broken bits and hidden hazards, it was more home to him than the one his parents lived in had ever been to him.
More thin smoke curled up towards the ceiling. This cigarette was almost done. Should he look at his phone? Mallory had probably been trying to call him since yesterday. He grimaced, his chest twinging in guilt. She was going to be mad at him again. Mal wouldn't be though, he'd get it. Maybe. He'd get it more than his girlfriend would at any rate.
Maybe he'd have one more smoke before checking his phone.
Flicking the butt into the pretty, cracked urn on the coffee table that served as one of their ash trays, Niklas let the last breath of smoke flow out from the corners of his mouth as he leaned over and reached into his book bag, pulling out the readily accessible pack of cigarettes and selecting another one. His lighter was about to flick to life when the teenager paused and glanced up, through the music pumping through his headphones, he'd a noise.
Someone who mattered had found him.
Edited by Nova, Nov 20 2016, 07:04 PM.
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Malus
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Sep 30 2015, 11:10 AM
Post #2
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Crossroads Demon
- Posts:
- 0
- Group:
- Demon
- Member
- #360
- Joined:
- September 24, 2015
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Malcolm James Reynolds was a very busy kind of teenager. Not the average, ‘lots of homework, extracurricular activities, and part time job’ sort of busy that most seniors in high school dealt with. No Malcolm, or as his friends liked to call him: Mal, was a drug dealer and a great one at that. He had become so good at it, in fact, that the teen had managed to take over his sister’s portion of the work their step-father gave them. Of course that meant Mal had to all but drop out of school - not that he was great at it anyways - but at least Mallory got to go to all her classes. His twin sister was intelligent, sweet, pretty, and could have the world if only given the chance. Mal was determined to give her that chance even if it meant giving up his own chances at a real future. Hell, he would sell his soul to the Devil himself if it guaranteed Mallory a happy and successful life.
For lack of a demon to deal with, Mal was setting aside what little money he could into a college fund for his twin. When she graduated, or if anything happened to Malcolm, the money would be given to her.
A ringing pulled Mal’s attention away from the boy he was currently beating with his favorite wood bat. Stupid rich kid thought he could skip his payments and get away with it. Privileged brat didn’t know who he was dealing with. “Saved by the bell it would seem.” Mal said with a wicked grin, gazing down at the bloody teen who was laying on the grass in obvious pain.
Reaching into his pocket, the drug dealer pulled out a cheap little phone he used solely for his clients. One of those pay-by-the-minute numbers that was untraceable and that Mal replaced every week or so. The throw away phone wasn’t ringing, so he tucked it away and fished for his personal cell. “Well if it isn’t my favorite person.” He greeted, hearing Mallory on the other end. Her voice was strained as she talked about Nik missing school the last two days. The jackass wasn’t answering his phone either. Mallory was on the verge of tears. “Shhh…Hey, I’ll go check on him and call you the moment I know he is okay. No worries, alright.” Mallory thanked him, said she loved him and hung the phone up.
“Now, where were we?” Malcolm questioned the victim at his feet, sliding his phone back into his pocket. The sound of the fear in his sister’s voice had brought anger bubbling to the surface, making Mal bring his bat down too hard on the back of the boy’s skull. The crack was enough to tell him that the kid wasn’t going to be getting up off the ground again. Oh well, wasn’t the first time he had gotten overzealous. That was why he had these sorts of meetings in the middle of the forest near known wolf territory. Mal could already see the glimmer of the predator’s eyes through the bushes, waiting for him to leave so they could feast.
Sighing, he tossed the bloody bat over the ledge he was near and watched it fall into the ravine. Below, the roaring river swept it away, washing away blood and fingerprints. Next, he emptied the boy’s pockets, took what cash he had and tossed the rest down to the river. “Well, he’s all yours now.” Mal said, turning from the scene and waving to the glowing eyes that were watching him.
Forty minutes later Malcolm was in his rusted out old Chevy driving to the run down Manor he and Nik liked to call home. He had made a quick stop to buy a six pack of beer, figuring his best friend might need it. Mal also checked his supply of pharmaceutical pain killers and Weed, just in case. Niklas had a rough home life, debatably worse than Malcolm’s and Mallory’s. At least the low life the twins’ mother had married had lost the courage to beat on them when Mal had gotten taller than him at fourteen. The drug dealing was now just a way to help keep food in the house, the bills paid and clothes on their backs. Lord knew, his mom and her husband couldn’t stay sober long enough to hold down legitimate jobs.
Hiding his truck behind some overgrown foliage, Mal gathered up his bags and headed through the yard to the manor. Three mutts came rushing out of their hiding spaces, yipping happily at the sight of Mal. “Still hanging around you mooches?” The teen asked the strays as they jumped around him, waiting for food. He had made the mistake of feeding them one damn time! Now he was eternally paying for it. “Chill it out! Here ya go!” He said, pulling three unwrapped burgers from the fast food bag he had and throwing them in different directions. The dogs chased after them, leaving him to enter the manor.
Malcolm found Niklas quickly enough, mostly by following the smell of cigarettes. He didn’t say anything at first, just dropped the paper bags of cheap burgers and fries on the decrepit coffee table. Mal pulled a beer from the cardboard holder, then set the remaining five next to the food. The blond popped off the bottle cap of his beer with a lighter he had fished from his pocket. “Mallory called.” He said in a flat tone after taking a long chug from the bottle.
Falling back into a winged armchair, Mal caused dust to fly into the air. He sneezed and shook out his long curls, dropping his backpack from his shoulder. The pack landed with a thud on the wooden floor. “I figured you would be here.” There wasn’t any judgment in Mal’s tone. He didn’t blame Nik for wanting his space after getting into it with his dad. Just one look at his best friend and he could see it had been a bad one. “I brought some party favors.” Reaching into an inside pocket of his blue coat, Mal pulled out a bag of assorted pills and two blunts. He threw the bag into Nik’s lap. “You look like you could use a pick me up.” Mal Downed the rest of his beer, set the empty bottle next to him and reached for another.
Edited by Malus, Sep 30 2015, 12:05 PM.
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Nova
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Oct 6 2015, 06:51 AM
Post #3
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Storm Demon
- Posts:
- 16
- Group:
- Demon (Mod)
- Member
- #352
- Joined:
- September 9, 2015
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It was Mal. Of course it was Mal. It was always Mal.
As soon as the smell of fast food wafted into his nose and preceded his best friend into the deteriorated living room, Niklas reached up and slid the headphones off his head to settle around his neck and leaned back against the sofa. He watched the other teenager enter the room silently, eyes drifting to the bag of greasy food he tossed onto the table.
Man those smelled damn good. When was the last time he actually ate? Damned if he knew.
Reaching forward, Nik seized a bag and jammed some fries into his mouth as Malcolm cracked open a beer and dropped himself into his usual dusty old chair.
“Yeah...” Nik let his head fall back against the sofa, closing his eyes. As if reminded by the painkillers suddenly falling into his lap, his body throbbed and his limbs started aching anew. He'd hoped, as he had hoped many times before, that if he didn't move for long enough, the pain would go away, that everything the old man had fucking done to him this time would heal and he'd be good to go again; like new.
Running a hand through his hair, Niklas sighed and licked his lips. Looking down at the bag in his hand, he let his lips curl into a bitter smile. While his parents might've been class A assholes that he could seriously do without, Mal always had his back.
Within minutes, Nik had tossed back a couple of whatever the hell his friend had brought him with a lengthy swig of beer, lit up one of the blunts and taken a bite of a burger as though it were the very food of the Gods.
“Was she mad?” Mallory. The girl was the sweetest damn thing on the planet and Niklas loved her to death, but she deserved better than garbage like him. She was going to go places whereas he – according to his dad – was destined for the trash heap.
In this, he pretty much believed the old man.
“Please tell me she didn't fucking cry.” He hated making her cry. He made her do it way too often and he felt like shit every single time. The teen glanced down at his backpack, he could see the blinking red light dimly through the pocket in his on his bag. He still hadn't actually looked at the blasted thing. How many calls and texts on there were from his girlfriend?
“Christ.” Nik shook his head and swore again under his breath, feeling the usual anger at his parents resurfacing again. She'd seen him before after getting into it with them. She'd even helped put him back together again when he showed up knocking on Mal's window battered and bloody. But he never wanted her to see if he could help it.
He should've called her, or sent a message her way or some shit. Tell her the old man didn't actually bash his skull in this time.
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Malus
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Oct 7 2015, 03:01 PM
Post #4
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Crossroads Demon
- Posts:
- 0
- Group:
- Demon
- Member
- #360
- Joined:
- September 24, 2015
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Malcolm sat back, drinking his beer and observing Niklas as he took advantage of the supplies Mal had brought. Nik was hurting; Mal could see it in every move he made. At least the pain killers and booze would help with that, the physical stuff at least. The other kind of hurt Nik was dealing with - the shit going on inside his head - that stuff was something Mal hadn’t figured out how to help with. Mallory was better with that sort of thing; she knew what to say or do when someone felt bad. Malcolm usually just left his twin to smooth the emotional crap over. He was better for handling things of the physical nature; those things he could see and understand were what he was best at fixing.
Reaching out, the blonde teen grabbed one of the fast food bags and removed a burger from it. He slouched back into his chair and took a bite, swallowing. “She wasn’t mad, worried was all.” Mal reassured his friend, washing down his food with another swig of beer. “And of course she cried!” The drug dealer’s voice only raised a hair but it was with a touch of laughter, not anger. “You know how Mallory is: quick to cry, quick to forgive. She will be over it in no time.” No one would know Mallory’s moods better than Malcolm, since he had tested her temper more than any other human alive.
The smell of weed was filling the air, kicking Mal’s craving into overdrive. Standing, a burger in one hand and a beer in the other, Malcolm walked over to the couch Nik was on and plopped down beside him. Their thighs touched as Mal leaned forward to set the beer on the coffee table, and the blonde scooted slightly away. Physical contact with anyone, besides Mallory, was something Malcolm just couldn’t do. Niklas wasn’t at all bad, but Mal never wanted to give his best friend the wrong idea. So Malcolm opted to refrain from all contact with him, just like the rest of the world.
“Here, give me that.” Mal said as he reached out and took the blunt from Nik’s hand. Their finger’s grazed each other, but the blonde tried to ignore any emotion it brought to the surface. Instead he took a few big drags and blew out little rings of smoke, his body falling into a relaxed state. Handing back the blunt, Mal proceeded to finish off his burger, and then tossed the wrapper on the table.
Fishing out his personal cell, Malcolm began tapping away on the keyboard. ‘Nik is alright. We are at the manor. Call you when it’s good to come by.’ He returned the phone back to the front pocket of his jeans, then grabbed for his beer. “So, you wanna tell me what the fuck happened? Or should we chat about the shitty weather?” Nice, real smooth and sensitive, that ought to make Nik open right up. That was why nobody should have ever let Mal talk. To anyone. Ever.
Another big gulp of beer and Mal could look at Nik again. The teen leaned forward, elbows on his knees and beer bottle cradled between both hands. Mal kept his eyes on his friend, watching, waiting for some response. He pretty much knew what had happened to Nik. It was always the same, since they were kids. But Niklas didn’t rant about the abuse he went through, seemed to internalize it as much as possible. Malcolm, on the other hand, didn’t have much issue spouting off if he had an issue with something or someone. Hell, Mal didn’t have a problem beating on the face of anybody who messed with him.
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Nova
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Oct 9 2015, 05:38 PM
Post #5
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Storm Demon
- Posts:
- 16
- Group:
- Demon (Mod)
- Member
- #352
- Joined:
- September 9, 2015
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Of course she cried. Mallory always fucking cried when he went MIA for a few days, or when he showed up battered by his ever loving parents. He always seemed to be making her cry or fret or worry or angry with him for some reason. She deserved so much better than the shit person he was, but...
Niklas watched Mal get off his chair and drop down next to him. He didn't miss how fast the other boy moved away from him; like he'd been burnt. Mallory deserved so much better than him, but he was too selfish to let her have it. Letting her go, would mean letting go of Mal and like Hell he was going to do that.
He held out the blunt to his friend , being careful to look past him cooly at the one of the dirty, broken windows. When Mal handed it back, Niklas took a long, slow drag on it, letting the weed flow into him and relax his body.
Then Mal asked the most delicate of questions and suddenly the food he'd eaten turned to ash in his mouth and even the weed lost its appeal. He didn't want to fucking talk about it. It was too damned embarrassing. Both his mother and father - the shitty people they were - threw him around like some kind of toy. Mal was lucky, he'd actually kept on growing after the age of twelve and became too tall for his mom and step dad to beat on anymore.
Why couldn't he have shared some of that bloody height?
Cupping his chin with his free hand, Niklas propped his elbow up on the arm of the sofa and looked away from Mal, staring at his sad, stupid looking reflection in a tarnished mirror on the wall. He couldn't look at his best friend, not for this.
"What do you think happened? He started on about my damn demon eyes again." Then Niklas talked back, then mom grabbed and slapped him and then he pushed her away and then Dad seized him and...
It had ended when he couldn't stand and they were too hoarse to yell anymore. One of these days they were going to go too far and he was going to grab one of his dads guns and shoot the pair of them and then dance on their graves. One day. Maybe.
"I'm thinkin' I should leave." Niklas shifted and dropped his hand down into his lap, looking at the blunt held loosely between the fingers of his other. "Just fucking go. Anywhere is better than here, right?" He'd be free of his goddamn parents and Mallory would be free to find someone who actually loved her and wasn't a bag of shit. He didn't want to deal with it anymore. Not his stupid parents, or making Mallory cry.
Niklas glanced at Malcolm. There were other things he didn't want to deal with anymore either.
Edited by Nova, Oct 9 2015, 05:53 PM.
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Malus
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Nov 5 2015, 12:59 PM
Post #6
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Crossroads Demon
- Posts:
- 0
- Group:
- Demon
- Member
- #360
- Joined:
- September 24, 2015
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Niklas turned away, his gaze falling to some point on the wall to their left. Mal kept observing his friend, catching the other boy’s dim reflection in a cracked mirror. Nik’s words made the drug dealer focus on the red eyes that were caught in the glass. The battery powered lanterns provided just enough light to make Niklas’s eyes glow, like the demon his parent so loved to accuse him of being. Malcolm never saw the ugliness or strangeness in Nik’s looks that others did; never believed it was some mark of evil. Instead Mal saw his friend’s unique looks as beautiful and fascinating. Nik wasn’t like everyone else and that was something to be proud of in Mal’s book. Being different wasn’t a thing to ridicule, it was something to celebrate. Unfortunately, not everyone thought the way Malcolm did. Mallory did, but Nik’s parents felt that being different was blasphemous.
Opening his mouth, Malcolm was about to tell his friend how stupid his parents were. That maybe it was time they gave his Old Man a taste of his own medicine. Mal was big enough to deal with Nik’s Pops any day, and his mom would probably be no problem with her protection out of the way.
Those words died on Mal’s lips as Niklas confessed to wanting to leave.
Hurt and Anger danced with each other in Malcom’s chest, making his mouth go dry and his hands tighten around the neck of his beer bottle. He didn’t know which felt worse; the pain of losing Niklas as a friend forever, or the betrayal of having Nik abandon both him and Mallory in this God forsaken place. Mal would never leave Nik, not for anything. Hell, the drug dealer had enough money in his stash right now to up and ditch this town (with or without Mallory) and start up somewhere new. The thought never crossed his mind, though, because that money was for Mallory to go to college. That way they could all get out together and Mallory could have the life she deserved.
“Dammit, Nik!” Mal yelled as he shot to his feet and threw the half empty beer bottle at the wall. Brown glass shattered, some shards lodging into the molding wallpaper while the rest clattered to the floor. Beer foamed on the wall, the suds slowly trailing their way to a puddle on the dusty carpet. Malcolm stared at the broken bottle, breathing heavily for a few moments until his fury subsided.
“You can’t just run and leave us behind.” The blond teen said quietly, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Friends don’t fucking do that to each other!” There was a hint of desperation in Mal’s tone as he flung himself onto the couch, his head tilted back so that his eyes rested on the ceiling. “We’re supposed to get out of here together, you know.” Both of Mal’s hands buried themselves in his curly hair, tugging at the strands in his habitual nervous way. “Mallory is gonna go to some great college and we will tag along; you because you love her and me because I’m the protective older brother.”
Mal loosened his grip on his hair then dropped his hands onto the couch cushions, giving him the look of a broken puppet. “Happily Fucking Ever After.” He said with a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “We just got to make it there. Let her graduate, ya know?” Malcolm finally looked back to Nik, “ I’ll do anything if it means you will stay.” It was a blank check that Mal was giving Nik, something that the drug dealer never gave anyone, not even Mallory. Malcolm liked to stack the deck in his favor when making deals so that he always came out on top, but in this case he was giving Nik the advantage.
Mal didn’t know what he would do if his best friend left. Sure, he would still have Mallory. His other half. His twin. His reason for breathing and staying out of jail. But Niklas was what brought fun to the world. Nik was the one who brought Mal away from the darkness that this world had plunged him into. If Nik was ever to leave, Mal wasn’t sure what kind of monster he might become.
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Nova
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Nov 5 2015, 03:13 PM
Post #7
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Storm Demon
- Posts:
- 16
- Group:
- Demon (Mod)
- Member
- #352
- Joined:
- September 9, 2015
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Malcolm didn't like it. He didn't like the idea one little bit and if they were being fuckin' honest, Niklas would've been insulted and more than a little hurt if he had. That didn't make him any less frustrated though. It didn't make the pain and anger and despair storming through his body and soul in some swirling vortex any easier to deal with, to push back and swallow. It didn't make the desire to run far away from there, screaming aloud any less. He wanted to run. He wanted to hurt his father, his mother. He wanted to never see them again. He wanted to run far away, shrieking to the goddamned world just how fucked up everything was before flinging himself off the top of the tallest building he could find. Or in front of the first semi saw. Or train. Or whatever the hell came thundering up the road to snuff out his damned life first.
He knew the plan. He reminded himself of the plan every fucking day. Telling himself to just keep on going. Just gotta let Mallory graduate, get her diploma then they could all get the fuck outta there. But there was just one glaring snag that became more and more apparent with each passing day...
“I can't-” Nik's voice broke. He swallowed and shoved down the rise of emotions in his throat. He couldn't look at his friend. Couldn't bring himself to look on the pleading expression he knew Mal wore. If he did, he knew he'd agree to whatever Mal wanted.
The teenager leaned forward on the couch, hands hanging loosely between his legs, staring at the dirty, tattered rug beneath their feet.
“Mal, I can't fuckin' do this!” He gripped at his head with one hand, pulling at his dyed black hair. “Fuck!” Getting to his feet, Niklas drew a sharp breath, ignoring the way his body ached in protest. He set the remainder of the blunt down on the edge of pretty, cracked urn on the coffee table and that hand joined the other on his head, gripping at his skull. “It's gonna be either me or them Mal!”
One day he was going to shoot them both. Right through their goddamned heads. Hopefully that was before they beat him to death.
He turned around and smacked a hand to his chest, gesturing with the other as he yelled at Mal, anger, hurt and fear lacing his voice.
“One fucking day you're gonna look at Phil's paper and my fucking face is gonna be staring back at you!” He threw his arms open wide, a lopsided, sarcastic smile on his face. “It's gonna either say I'm a murderer or that I've been murdered. Take your fucking pick.”
Niklas let his hands drop down to his sides and he turned away from Mal, kicking an old beer can on the floor across the room, the clang echoing loudly in the old mansion.
“Mallory's too good for me.” She needed to go off to college and meet some handsome, smart college man who could actually do good for her. “She should find someone better.” Anyone was better than him really. He was a bag of shit masquerading as a teenager. "I'm never gonna be good for her Mal. You fucking know that." They both did. Mallory probably knew it too. Smart girl she was. Niklas would've happily let someone better than him have her if he made her happy. But he was way too damn selfish. Letting go of Mallory meant letting go of Mal too and that just wasn't something he could do.
Shit, it really would be better for them both he just left or threw himself in front of some rich guys hummer.
"I got up after a bit this time." Nik looked down at the floor, absently cracking each of his knuckles. "What happens when I can't?" He turned and looked back at Mal. "What will you do then? Mallory? Where's the fucking happily ever after when I'm dead in the damn basement?"
His best friend couldn't save him from his crazy parents.
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Malus
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Nov 11 2015, 11:10 AM
Post #8
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Crossroads Demon
- Posts:
- 0
- Group:
- Demon
- Member
- #360
- Joined:
- September 24, 2015
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Malcolm watched his friend rant and rave, his expression tight with anger. This time his anger wasn’t directed at Nik, instead it was aimed at Nik’s useless parents. Mal wanted to do something to end his friend’s pain. The violence in Niklas’s family life seemed to be escalating to a point of no return. If it really was that bad then it meant it was passed the time for extreme measures. The drug dealer had long ago taken care of his own parental issues by showing them that he was strong enough to stand up for himself. Unfortunately for Nik, his parents were bigger and stronger than Mal’s junkie mom and step-dad. Add to that the fact that Nik was small for his age and it wasn’t exactly ideal for Nik to stand up to his parents on his own.
An idea come to Malcolm so suddenly it was like lightening hitting a tree. He didn’t speak on it immediately, but shot out of his seat and grabbed for one of the two remaining beers and popped it open. The teen sipped from the bottle and grabbed for the smoldering blunt that Nik had set down. Taking a drag, the blond walked over to one of the grimy windows and shoved aside the tattered curtains.
Mal’s eyes fell to where his truck was parked, hidden behind the overgrown bushes and the gnarled willow tree. The truck was visible from here, but nobody passing by on the road would see it. The sight of the bent in rear bumper – a side effect of a drunken accident that had landed him in hot water with both the law and his parents – furthered the growth of Mal’s blossoming plan.
Turning, his shoulder resting on the wall beside the window, Mal smiled at Nik. “I think I may have a way to rid us of your parental issues for good.” The drug dealer took another puff off of the dying blunt and dropped it to the floor, crushing it with the toe of his shoe. There would be another burn mark in the already singed carpet. “All that we need to do is get your mom and pops mad at us both at the same time. That way I can be there to deal with the low lives myself.” Mal raised his beer to his lips, took a swig, and held the bottle against his chest. “Like, for instance, say we jack your old man’s precious car and take it for a joy ride. Bring it back with a few dings. He will be sure to flip out on us. Then I can hit back without worrying about being charged with assault. Self defense, ya know. Anything that happened to them after they land the first hit would be practically legal.”
With a shrug of his shoulders Mal pushed himself off the wall and walked over to his usual armchair, plopping down in it. “The police would be sure to come around and take care of the old drunks. Then ‘Wham! Bam!’” Mal made a punching motion with both fists, sloshing beer onto his chair, “You are safe from their idiocy.” He laughed then and set his bottle down to dig around in his backpack for a pack of cigarettes. “So, what do you say?” He asked, successfully finding his Marlboros in the cluttered bag and popping one out to smoke. He lit the cigarette, smoke and the smell of tobacco hanging in the air along with his proposition.
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