Page 42 of Mara
My tongue felt like I was choking on sand. I had never seen Jinx so quiet. For once, he had no quip to make your head spin or any backhanded comments that made you question yourself, just complete silence. I tried to catch his gaze, but he ignored me, his eyes zeroed in on a fish in the aquarium.
The worst thing about this entire situation was that as I was congratulating my sister, I could feel Jinx’s father of her child’s semen still dripping down my leg.
Pregnant…
The word bounced around my addled brain like a fucking ping pong ball. I had filled up women my entire life like fucking pastries, not one had gone and incubated my goddamn semen. This wasn’t the fucking plan. How the fuck was I going to continue my plans for Mara with her fucking sister…growing a human being inside her gut.
This week, she had already gotten snippy with me. Her demands were growing taxing, and I almost killed her four times. I needed to do something and fast. Mara had dodged my texts on all accounts.
Every fucking persona I used, she simply left it on read. I would have assumed she left the fucking country if it weren’tfor seeing her on the asylum’s CCTV footage. That wasn’t good enough. I needed to see her on non-grainy bullshit cameras.
I knew I should have installed fucking cameras in her house when I had the chance.
I didn’t take kindly to being ignored. Gianna was basically walking me like a fucking dog this week, dragging me by the balls to doctor’s appointments and tiny human stores. I was nauseated.
How did I get myself into this fucking situation?
I wanted to chop off my dick to prevent this horror scenario from happening ever again. Gianna threw another fucking outfit into my arms, and I stared at the wall across from me. This parasite was not going to exist.
Maybe it was a testament to how fucked up I am, but the second I saw that alien moving on the black and white screen at the doctor’s, all the smiles and bullshit from Gigi and her doctor leeches swarming her, I felt my stomach fall out of my asshole.
I wanted to stick my hands into her womb and rip it out. I had to be methodical about this. I couldn’t simply kill Gianna. She was beloved, known, and cherished by so many. Mara was just one person who loved the annoying fucking debutant. I also didn’t know how long I actually had. I couldn’t play with her anymore.
She wasn’t good for sex at all.
She was moody as fuck, and I was done with the expected fucking valet service. My bike was not built for curb-side pick-up.
“Oh, baby. I wanted to talk to you, by the way. You know that you can’t keep riding on that death trap. My jeep wouldn’t be acceptable for the baby, either. You can sell your bike, and I will trade in my jeep. It should be enough to afford like an SUV, maybe…” her mouth continued to move, but my brain was short-circuiting. “So I listed your motorcycle on a few sites. This guy is interested, give him a call, okay?”
I blinked, staring at the outstretched paper in her hand.
Sell…my…bike.
Gianna’s face smashed into the shelf, the baby clothes flying up and feathering out as they flew off into different directions. Her body crumpled down onto the ground at my feet, and I blankly stared at her.
She didn’t see my hand come from behind her head. Never even felt my hands wrap into her curly brown hair. It all happened silently and within a few seconds. The silence stretched around the shitty store, and I cursed. Knocking out a woman in broad daylight in a store full of people, just a few aisles away, probably was reckless.
The paper with some random name and number was spotted with blood on the ground. Gianna hit her nose, and I was pretty sure that she broke it on that hit.
“You are lucky I don’t curb-stomp your fucking head on these shelves, bitch. Don’t. Touch. My. Bike.”
It was a whisper.
My voice shook with the control it took to walk over her body and exit the aisle before I truly did kill her right then and there.
Once I was far enough away, I could hear the screams surrounding the area I had left her in. Personnel and consumers were running around like rats. I didn’t know if she was alive or not, to be honest. Her head smashed into the metal of the shelf hard enough to cleanly knock her out. Her nasal bones could have shattered and punctured her brain.
Not likely, but not improbable.
I took a minute to center myself, trying to calm down enough to grab a stack of random baby clothes and make my way back over to Gianna, where a crowd of people were surrounding her.
Sliding the metaphorical mask I had worn my entire life, I walked forward, replicating the fear and concern on the faces around me.
“Gianna? Baby girl?”
Bystanders saw me and made a pathway to her. She was sitting up now, her hand on her head, confusion spreading across her bloody face. Her nose was definitely broken, and I held back my snickers.
She caught sight of me and gave me a look I couldn’t decipher. It took a minute, but then I recognized it. The girl who had never felt fear, the woman who had been pampered and sheltered her entire life…was scared.
