𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 | 𝟏𝟖+

| 𝟐.𝟓

—

"I'm on the highway to hell."

—

Remember what you did.

Those words had carved themselves into my brain like they would on a tombstone, cold, eternal, and slightly twisted.

I remembered those words that had been etched on my father's forearm with a small blade, spilling blood like all his other wounds. I was too young to see it, but I found them dead in the woods. Or at least, my father was; my mother, on the other hand, was on the brink of death, holding his hand like an old friend. I accepted that she'd pass on soon after, but with a heartfelt apology, David Sutton carried her to his red truck that sat at the edge of the forest and took us to the hospital in time.

I had sat in the back seat, utterly silent. I didn't ask questions nor wonder why David Sutton was even there in the first place. However, I asked how my mother survived such a brutal attack and what gift from god was bestowed upon her to survive severe stabbings and lashes in the chilling cold. And that's when the frenzy began, the one thing that made my blood pump faster than any steroid shot. The kill. A kill.

I never did it to animals. As much as I craved an easy kill, I wasn't that vengeful to harm something that didn't deserve it. It started small, like "accidentally" pulling someone's hair or pinching, but I became violent as I transitioned to upper middle school. I'd start fights for no reason and almost immediately get a blood rush after the first punch.

My first kill was when I was in high school. I was walking home and saw a guy sexually assaulting a woman behind a building. It was broad daylight, but there was no one around except for us, and for a moment, I hesitated, telling myself it wasn't my business, but I saw the fear. The fear in her eyes when she caught my stare, but not of me, of him and his capabilities. He was a head shorter than me but sturdy nonetheless. At the time, I wasn't as brawn or muscular as I am now. Looking back on it, I'm not surprised at the way he shook me off and told me to fucking beat it, but I didn't take no for an answer, and eventually, that led to us fighting.

I didn't necessarily want to kill him, but I questioned my morality once the woman had run off, leaving us. The man was drunk and smelled of cheap cigarettes and vanilla.

"What the fuck is your problem fucker! You drove my whore away!" He had screamed in my face, clenching the collar of my shirt.

I had resisted the urge to turn away at the smell of his breath and chuckle when he spat at my feet. Something like a big, fat, red button you're not supposed to press got pressed, and everything went blurry. I blacked out, and the next thing I knew, I had blood on my hands and clothes, and the man was dead at my feet. "Jesus Christ."

The memory faded as I focused on my slightly bruised hands. No matter how much I pleaded to understand the pressure, I didn't feel their pain. Blood, dirty money, and elongated lies were all I was suitable for. Wishful thinking for something better was out the window when I felt the crimson liquid grace my fingertips like red acrylic paint. I wonder what my life would be like if I hadn't found my parents in the woods or ignored that woman, but it was too late for me.

But it wasn't too late for her.

"You're awake."

I temporarily freeze before blinking, focusing on the male figure by the window. "I didn't realize you cared enough to visit me."

My sarcasm fell deaf to ears as he sat taunt and ruthless, his old green eyes holding the town's mysteries. "Creed, when I agreed to share half of my company with you, it was under the impression that my niece would be happy."

"She ruined that for herself."

"She is...in need of help, but you had said you'd be part of that help."

I click my tongue, rubbing my bruised jaw. "I said that I'd help provide help for her if she showed she could handle it. You know how that went."

He frowns, anger engulfing his irises. "I could take back my shares."

"But you won't. I can guarantee it because, without me, your little business would've been gone long ago, along with the large amounts of cash flow from the oil company."

Due to my choice of investments with other companies and associates. It was the unspoken truth.

His face reddens, practically swelling. "What is the point in all this, Creed? I helped put your mother in one of the top hospitals' money can buy. I've given you land, money, and unauthorized knowledge about the inner circle. What more do you want?"

I tilt my head at his words. They almost sounded like a plea or a cry for help. I'm sure he'd rather flee and never have to deal with me, but it wasn't my fault he was naive to the efforts of a young adult.

Forks is a gossipy town where everyone knows most of everything. It only takes one slip-up or oversharing friend to make the town's ears light up like wildfire. I grin cruelly as I recall the memory of me stumbling upon the dear innocent mayor sleeping with his assistant after hours while his pregnant wife was making dinner for three at home. His face was flushed, and the arousal soon turned into embarrassment as he stumbled to get his pants on, practically shoving his assistant out of the room.

"I want your niece to stay away from me."

To stay away from her.

My words were cutthroat, picking apart his resolve with each icy undertone. "—And to keep her lips shut. I shouldn't have the urge to staple them closed every time she fucking speaks, Sutton. And keep her the fuck away from anywhere near my house, or I'll deliver her limbs to you for the remainder of the year."

Sutton stutters a sigh; his expensive tapered black suit looks underwhelming compared to his passion at the beginning of the conversation. It all crumbled into the palm of my hand like sand, each grain reminding me why I do what I do.

He clears his throat when I don't speak. "I have high expectations for this year's fall festival."

"You say the same thing every year, Sutton. Do I ever disappoint?" I raise a sharp brow at his pathetic way with words.

"No, you don't. But don't get distracted," Sutton grits, rubbing his ring finger once, twice, and thrice. "We need this to compensate for the loss of funds last month and the police department."

"Police department..."

He swallows hard while standing up. "Look, Anderson, Some of the guys are getting spotty. They've been noticing a significant difference in not only pay but patrol. I only have six men recruited for the under jobs, and the rest are getting angsty."

"Then give them a job, give them something to work with," I say, a pounding in my head beginning to surface.

Sutton paled further, his brown hair appearing almost black. "It's not that simple—"

I interrupt him, letting my frigid tone wrap around his neck like a noose. "Then make it simple. You get your guys on the ground, and I'll handle my part, deal?"

He readjusts his tie, flattening his hands over the middle of his suit jacket. "We'll see to it."

He left, and I was left to wallow in the dark grave my parents dug years ago. I lean back into the uncomfortable pillows, raising my hands to push back my hair that was overdue for a haircut, my elbows creasing.

Just then, the door opened once more, causing me to roll my eyes. The Suttons need to know when enough is enough. I flicked my gaze over, only for my eyes to widen slightly in awe at the short appearance of Jamilyn Caswell.

Her big brown eyes filled with shock. Then they filled with a sliver of tears, faint, but there. She didn't expect me to be awake when she got here. I give her a curl of my lip, displaying a dimple I know she likes to poke.

"Hey princess."