M U T I N O U S | 18+

e n o u g h

(slight mentions of s*xual ass*ult)

third person's pov

Xavier sat on the plush purple couch covered with alcohol and ash stains. He was seated in the middle of the couch surrounded by a new sorority and two of his acquaintances. He squinted at them trying to remember their names but nothing came to his mind as he puffed out another ball of smoke. His eyes trailed the dimly lit room as he tapped his finger on the cancer stick, burning ash falling out of it and onto the wrist of his left hand. A sadistic yet lazy smile made its way onto his face while others around him tried to converse with him. Girls and boys tried to talk over one another, trying to gain his attention as he leaned back on the couch, feeling content.

He watched the pruny guy he asked for a drink walk towards him with shaky hands. The smile turned into a satisfied smirk as he watched the scared little boy place the glasses in front of him and run towards the dance floor. He grabbed four small glasses from the wooden table before him and downed the sour liquid in a matter of seconds.

His eyes closed as he felt the high take over him. The voices around him faded into a slight chatter as he tried not to focus on his thoughts. His eyes shot open as he looked down at the hand with bright red painted nails gripping his crotch. He turned his head around, pushing the girl with funky green and blue hair away roughly. The short tempered boy stood up and grabbed one of the drinks from the table, tossing the yellow liquid all over the girl.

"Don't touch me," he said in a sharp tone, scowling while the girl in front of him whined about her expensive dress. He moved away and shoved his hand in his back pocket, pulling out a transparent plastic bag and walking towards the bar. He hurriedly put three lines of the white powder on the counter and leaned his head down to consume it, trying to get rid of his thoughts.

"He's only 11!" mom shouted from the kitchen as I cried silently in the corner.

"Don't act like it's not your fault." Dad replied in a monotonous tone. "Gambling slut." He muttered before I heard a loud slam of the creaking door.

He left the party in a slight daze and squinted his eyes to adjust to normal lighting instead of the dull red. He looked around for his car and ran towards it, stumbling on rocks a few times. He searched himself for the key and breathed a sigh of relief as he found it.

"I'm so sorry, Xav."

"Mom please don't let them take me!" I yelled as a tall man grabbed my arms.

He got in the car and slammed the door shut behind it before opening the console and grabbing the black flask from it. He stared at his name customized in gold on it before taking a swig of the alcohol.

He threw the empty flask away as the scent of the car morphed into one of alcohol and cigarettes. He scrunched his face as he leaned back for a few seconds.

"It's all going to be over soon" the tall man said while grabbing onto the little boy's hair as the old woman caressed the boy's neck, her hand inching south.

Xavier punched the steering wheel as hard as he could while gripping onto his dark hair.

"Count to 20 and it'll all be over" his mom said as tears streamed down her face before a bullet was impaled in her skull.

The young boy closed his eyes as he felt several people surrounding him, touching him, filming him.

One.
Two. Three.
...
Nineteen.
Twenty.
They kept going.

Xavier started the car and speeded towards the only place he could think of. His tyres screeched as a cop stopped him and then shook his head when he saw Xavier's face, letting him go because of his adoptive father. He sped up once again and didn't stop until he reached a certain apartment complex. He glared at the screen of his car which showed it was 1:02 am and got out of it.

He rammed his brain up, trying to think of an excuse to not seem like a fucking creep. He looked around and grunted before raising his arm to punch the window of his car twice and the dashboard once. He was sure he seemed psychotic but at that moment he didn't really care about anything other than being near the girl who despised him and wouldn't care if he died tomorrow.

The boy with red rimmed eyes was sick of everyone flocking around him due to his status or his looks. He was sick of not having anyone to actually care about the person he was. He knew that he was never going to experience love so, he settled for the second best emotion known to man.

Hate.

Because even though it was the opposite of anything good, it was still something and that fact alone was enough for him to open his trunk and grab the first aid kit he bought the day before. He stared down at his bleeding knuckles and made his way towards the elevator. His legs bounced up and down due to the adrenaline rushing through his veins. He felt like passing out right there as he plucked another cigarette from his pocket and lit it with the black lighter. He inhaled the smoke and got inside the elevator when he heard a ding. He waited to reach her floor while staring at the flickering lights above him and the dirty ceiling. His nose scrunched up in distaste.

The young boy was thrown out the door and onto the hard road, his blood staining the hard material as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He used his tiny hands to cover his bare torso and shivered due to the chilly weather. He was too tired and used to even think about the fact that his parents had been shot right in front of him as wrinkly people touched him.

"Are you okay, boy?"

He shook his head to get rid of the thoughts rushed towards the apartment door as soon as the elevator doors opened. He stared down at his hand holding the cigarette and watched the blood dry down. He groaned internally and brought the stick to his mouth before ramming his fist in the wall thrice.

The boy stared at his cracked knuckles emotionlessly as blood trailed to his palm and around his fingers. He felt numb to the pain. A small part of him thinking that maybe he's a masochist. He quickened his pace towards the door and banged on it loudly. He internally wished that the girl's weird friend, Tina or whatever, doesn't open the door. He rubbed his eyes, trying to look more awake and less desperate.

He was in the middle of blowing another ball of smoke as the door opened and he heard soft coughing sounds. He rolled his eyes at her dramatics and gave her a once over. Her petite body was clad in some skimpy black shorts, a white tank top and some worn out slippers. He watched her large stare at him with an annoyed expression.

Xavier dropped the cigarette right outside her doorstep and crushed it with his foot. He pushed the small first aid kit into her hands before shoving past her and stepping inside her house.

Kiara stood at the door while trying to process what just happened and rubbing her eyes to get rid of the sleep. The girl stared at the transparent box in her hands and the splotches of blood smeared on the tiny handle. She scrunched up her nose when she felt the pungent smell of alcohol and sighed before closing the door, knowing he's not going to leave anytime soon.

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A/N:
okay y'all thanks for reading i know this update was late but- nvm i don't really have an excuse but i'm so sorry. this chapter was not proofread tho so please correct me if u find any mistakes.

thank u guys sm for reading and supporting me!! it means the world <3

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