Of Bleeding Pride

Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

SAMANTHA POV

  We'd been driving a while now. The black road was so worn it had faded to grey and the white lines were nonexistent. The dull scenery slipped past us practically unchanged.

  There was physically nothing out here. I wondered how much longer we would be driving, because there was literally nothing.

  Jake hadn't said much since we left. In fact, he hadn't said anything. The trip was absolutely silent. His eyes were fixed forward, not once glancing at me - well, not that I saw anyway.

  I stared out the window, still watching the road fly by. Every time I'd blink, my eyes got heavier and heavier, and I rested my head.

  I was so incredibly tired.

  Closing my eyes, I rested my head against the cool glass. I unbuckled my seatbelt so I could relax more into the seat. Just a light sleep...Just a light sleep...

JAKE POV

  She fell asleep in the back. I couldn't say I was incredibly surprised, I mean, she looked tired. I tried to make it discreet that I was spying on her in the back, I hope I wasn't caught. I was trying to ignore her.

  Jesus fuck she was a difficult son of a bitch sometimes, but every time I reacted, I felt bad. Did she really deserve to be dragged around everywhere? Did she deserve all that pain?

  Man I was a bastard. Why did I do all that shit to her? I guess I was no better then my old man; the way he treated my mother was disgusting. Yet here I was.

  I stared at her sleeping through the mirror.

  I should hate her. I have to hate her. The bitch was the centre of my plans. I needed to hate her.

  But every time I looked at her, I got nothing. No rising anger, no heated rage against her, and certainly no drive to kill. The most I could muster was a violent reaction when the bitch wouldn't listen or comply, or if I was generally pissed off.

  Something was a miss here. Why couldn't I get angry?

  I clenched the steering wheel tighter. Great. So I can get mad at myself for not being more hostile to her, but when I want pure unnecessarily scary rage, I can't do it. Fuck this plan and it's emotional need. Fuck it.

  My teeth clenched with my internal rage. I need to handle this properly, I need the upper hand. At this point, all I do is regret how I treat her. Fucking idiot Jake.

  I glanced over at her once more. I don't need to be angry. I just need to be firm; hostile even. I need to be dominate. I need to be powerful. HellHounds require a leader to take charge; to do what needs to be done, and done well. I need a son of a bitch to slap me and tell me what's important.

  I need clarity.

  Be firm, I coaxed myself. Don't be ruthless and violent; be powerful. Be dominate. Be the leader. Be fearless. Be calm, controlled - take the situation, and own it -

  But she. She was holding back a lot of her distress. At this rate, I'll never be able to set up anything to do with a call of distress back to Black Skulls. I slammed my hand against the steering wheel. She's too good at bottling up her feelings for this, something I didn't quite anticipate. I mean, she's a girl. Girls generally feel things.

  Urgh, fuck. I need another approach to this. Something more full proof -

  "No."

  My eyes widened and I quickly fixed my gaze on the girl in the back who just spoke. I swear to god she was asleep. Briefly checking the road was clear ahead, I looked back at her again. She was dead to the very world itself.