Death Alley

Chapter nineteen

I didn't know how long we drove, but it was hours before we reached Brian's old house. The twilight sky was fading into a navy blue night, and crickets were chirping rapidly. The suburban scenery was pleasant to gaze at, but it was like the feeling of hatred and anger lingered.

I hopped out of the car and stepped towards the small, aging house that stood before me. No cars were parked in the dirt driveway, which was a relief to me.

"They won't be back until after midnight," Brian chimed in. "They are always out drinking or having a smoke somewhere."

I just stared at him, and I almost wanted to cry at hearing those words. This was how he lived, and he knew exactly what his parents were gonna do before they did it themselves. I pitied him.

Brian jammed his fingers into his left pocket and pulled out some keys. He sifted through all of them, finding one rusted, old one that was left untouched for God knows how long. He wriggled it into the key hole, opening the door and stepping aside to let me through. I shuffle to the doorstep, making one timid peek over my shoulder to reassure myself that the creatures haven't returned.

After I entered the house, Brian followed, making a long, gradual sigh as his eyes fell upon the walls of his past. He crossed his arms, stepping slowly into the the dining room which appeared right as you enter the building. As Brian drew forward, his fingertips started to slide on the chipped walls, and he examined them closely. He continued forward, stopping at a large hole in the plaster right next to the door that led into the kitchen. Brian stared at it, his face starting to get flushed, his arms trembling with emotion.

"I remember this," Brian told me in a quiet, sad voice. His voice shook as he spoke. "My head was what caused this... When my father had beaten me. Well, one of the times that he had beaten me."

I stood there, mouth agape. I tiptoed closer to him, fingers outstretched. Once I finally reached him, I slid my hand over his shoulder and down his back, trying so desperately, yet so gently, to show that I cared, that I was listening, consoling.

The truth was, I felt bad for all the self inflicted injuries and depression that I felt. Even though I was bullied for no good reason, I did have parents who loved me, and maybe if I had reached out to them about my issues at school, I wouldn't have been tortured for as long as I had. I was so ungrateful for my life, and seeing someone worse off fills me with guilt as well as pity.

Brian paid no mind to the fact that I was touching him, not immediately at least. Instead, he cocked his fist back and slammed it into the hole in the wall, following the act with tears streaming down my face. Only then did Brian hold me to comfort himself.

Brian hugged me tightly, burying his face into my shoulder and his knees buckling. I didn't know what to think, seeing him like this. All I could do was stand there silently, caressing his shoulder and holding him upright, for his legs were weak as his past grievances came back to him.

After a few minutes of this, Brian stood, grabbing my hand saying, "We must go into our room before my parents come back. I'll show you the way around this hell hole." A bitter tone was weaved into his voice, sounding more and more like the creature that had now pursued me twice. This change scared me.

Brian let go of my hand with one last squeeze and led me up a short flight of stairs. The old, rickety wood creaked bellow my feet, and the echoes of the halls frightened me. It didn't matter if it was the whistle of the wind or a lone mouse scattering across the floor- I still jumped at every sound imaginable.

Once we reached the top, Brian swung to the left, heading to a door that almost stood out at the end of the hall. Maybe it was just because it faced you directly, or maybe there was some negative emotions associated with it, but no matter the reason, that room was the first thing that your attention was drawn to.

I walked up to it, following Brian at his heels, and once he opened the door, the room was completely clean- probably the cleanest in the house. It wasn't disheveled, nor was it musty. It was tidy in every way possible.

"That's odd," I whispered under my breath.

"Yeah it really is," Brian answered me. "I would assume that this would be the room that they trash the most."

I said nothing in reply, for the bitterness in Brian lingered, and the last thing I would want to do was to accede toy insult him in any way, shape, or form.

Brian reluctantly stepped into the room, scanning the fresh walls and neat bed that sat in the far corner against the back wall. He put a hand on his hip, and then crossed his arms, seemingly unsure about himself.

I remained in the doorway, watching him. Brian was lost in a daze, memories coming back to him. I only came in closer when Brian's eyes locked with mine.

I stepped towards him, and we just stared at one another. Brian wasn't crying anymore, but pain dwelled behind his eyes. I only touched his arm once when he slid his hands down my sides and stopped at my waste, pulling my body closer to his. We stood there for a minute, Brian holding me to where I was pressing against him. I didn't know what he was insinuating, or trying at that matter. The situation itself was confusing, for Brian made the seemingly intimate move when he was the vulnerable one, the sad one.

Instead of sorting it out in my head, I just let Brian hold me. Besides, it wasn't as if I wanted to pull away. I felt safe in his arms, loved. It was like my own little triumph. Chelsea and Shae dying wasn't what made me win- it was that there mockery was wrong. There was, as unlikely as it may have seemed at the time, someone who liked me for who I was. What was happening to me now was the one thing that I thought would never occur in my lifetime.

"You're a good girl," Brian whispered in my ear. "You are the nicest person I have ever met." The bitterness was gone now, but Brian's voice was

Brian kissed me on the cheek. It was sudden, and it wasn't like all the other kisses he has given me. It was desperate, grieving. It was as if Brian was going for the only segment of comfort available to him, and that was me.

Brian planted a few light pecks on my cheeks and then slowly moved downward. Soon he was nuzzling my neck with his lips. His lips pressed harder against me, and his hands slid down my thigh. It took me a few minutes to register what was happening.

Chills rushed down my spine, and my heart thumped. Wonders were flourishing through out my body and I couldn't resist them. I let my head fall back as a lay limp in Brian's strong arms. I soft moan escaped my lips. "Brian..."

Brian stopped the intimacy just enough to speak, and he put his hand behind my head, guiding it so that I was looking straight into his eyes. "Please, Bailey," he hushed me. "Let it happen... You don't have to speak to feel what is gonna happen."

Brian didn't let me reply before he was ravishing me again. His mouth pounded against my lips, and I didn't just let him this time. I was kissing him back now, rubbing my hands all about his body.

Pretty soon, Brian threw me unto the bed, and the rest was a blur.