Bloody affairs (18+)

011

GRADY 🏴❤️‍🔥

I haven't seen Zylith for a couple of days, despite the text she had sent saying she'd see me the day after I had dropped her off, and it's starting to piss me off. And she still has my car, which I'm not even worried about, and seemingly has dropped off the face of the planet.

I don't see her at ballet anymore, no matter if I sit in the parking lot during the whole rehearsal. She never comes out. So I decided after the third day of her disappearance that I would go watch the rehearsal, and still, she was nowhere to be found.

I ended up asking the snotty little brats that she dances with where she was but all I got were hyena-like laughs and snarky remarks about her being booted; which I couldn't bring myself to believe. She dances far better than these skanky twats so I highly doubt they'd get rid of their best performer.

Plus, Zylith would never do anything wrong that would get her kicked out of the program. I can see the fiery passion in her eyes clear as day when she simply thinks about dancing; she'd never risk something she was so invested in.

I can't help but acknowledge the growing burn in my chest that Tiver describes as " anxiety " but I think it's just the fact that my goal has dropped off the face of the earth without giving me what I want.

So, not because I miss her company, I pull out my phone and type a short clipped text message that says I'm making a visit to her apartment whether she likes it or not and that she better be ready to hand my fucking keys over. After sending my admittedly slightly asshole'ish text, I shove the phone back into my back pocket and glance back at the mess in front of me.

Blood stains the cement a mesmerizing shade of scarlet as it slowly leaks from the still warm bodies of my latest mission. I let my head cock to the side slightly in mild confusion. While I watch the dying- and dead- men in front of me I wipe the blade of my knife on my slacks. I curse under my breath when I realize these were my nice ones.

It's clear that I took my frustration over the young woman who has become aloof out on these men but it's still obvious that they weren't trained in the slightest. It was almost too easy to overthrow them. Their death was in vain, not even a fair fight.

Now, I know I may be a little crazy, but I am no man of blind pride. I like the fight to be tough, equal. Almost to the point where I think I may lose before inevitably getting the upper hand. And this mission was far from a challenge.

" A blood bath shouldn't be ready to soak in before the taps are even turned on, now should it? " I think to myself as I overlook my handiwork.

As I smile at the clever little motto I made up on the spot, I slip the knife into the waist of my pants. The blade runs along the skin of my bare hip dangerously but doesn't dare nick me as if afraid I'd use it against itself.

I coolly make my way to the sleek motorcycle that's hidden in the dark alley not too far from my current location.

I lift the helmet that sits on the left handle bar and slip it over my head. I then swing my leg over the bike, slamming my foot down on the crank. The motorcycle comes to life as if it was angry at the world; it's roar echoing through the alley.

I lean forward as the bike jolts, suddenly zipping down the strip of cement that divides the two buildings at a speed that wouldn't be achievable on a normal civilian bike.

I exhale, a feeling of peace overcoming any previous feelings of adrenaline that I had acquired during the mission. I drive absentmindedly as the world zooms past me in colorful streaks.

I swerve between cars, the drivers undoubtedly shouting profanities and honking their horns but their efforts wasted at the speed I'm currently traveling. The only noise evident to my ears is the whistle of the wind as I race down the crowded street of the city.