Mr. Piercing

9 - His Name Was James

Castielle

"Where are you bringing those books?"

I bit back a groan. Out of all the moments to get caught, why this particular moment? 

"I'm lending them to a friend who's still studying." The lie tasted bitter on my lips. If she's gonna ask who that friend was, I'm gonna end it all and throw the books on her face. I swear. 

"And who is this friend of yours?" I felt my eyes twitch as I struggled to keep my hands away from grabbing the books and slapping her face with it. 

She deserved all the pain it would give her, don't worry. I've been home for three days now, and in those three days, she had done the following: Burn my skin at least five times with the butt of her cigarette, bruise my entire face by punching it with her bony as fuck fingers, and break my pinkie using a freaking baseball bat she magically materialized out of nowhere. She said I deserved it for being a whore and not coming home.

Hypocrite.

 "His name's... uh--James." I said hesitantly, thinking of the most common name to exist on earth. There were a lot of James in this town alone.

"Hmm," She hummed, and I crossed my fingers. 

Don't ask anymore questions. Don't fucking ask--

"Where does he live?"

Fuck.

"Just next door," I said nonchalantly, hiking my bag further up my shoulders, "Yeah, I'm gonna go now. His tests are tomorrow so he needs all the time he can get to... study."

"I'll walk you out." 

Motherfucker--

"It's fine, really," My laugh was so high-pitched I sounded like a dying horse, "It's literally a couple of feet away from our house, Aunt Marissa."

Her eyes blazed, and before I knew it, I was shoved to the wall. Her smoke-coated breath travelled to my nose and I gagged, "I haven't introduced myself to our neighbors, yet. It's about time I see if they're richer than us, don't you think?"

I bit my lip harshly. This woman would probably leech off their money by acting like their friend. 

You can burn in hell. "Yeah. O-Of course." I forced a smile on my lips and slowly walked out the door with her behind me.

My hands are visibly shaking by the time we reach the porch of our neighbor's house. I slowly pressed the doorbell, hands clenched in tense and suspenseful waiting. A couple of seconds later, I heard a lock being turned, and out came a bored looking man with a beard that reached his chest.

"Good morning, Mister." I said, my lips straining from holding up a fake smile, "I-Is your son home?"

"What are you doing here?" He asked, and I swore I felt vibrations from how deep his voice sounded. Shit. "Who the hell are you two?"

He has a son. Thank fuck. I took of my bag and showed it to him, "I'm your son's friend. I met him at the... grocery store. He needed some help--" I coughed, "Studying."

At that, his eyebrows raised. "He went out his room and brought groceries? Hmm." A pregnant pause fell upon us. I could feel the sweat form on my forehead and drip down my face. Disgusting. 

"His room is upstairs, first door on the left." 

I breathe out a sigh of relief and immediately scurried inside when he opened the door wider. Looking back, I saw him talking to my Aunt with the same indifferent tone.

"How about you? Are you planing to hook up with my son as well?"

I didn't try to conceal the laugh that bubbled from within me upon looking at Aunt Marissa's face. You wouldn't be able to differentiate it from a ripe tomato.

The door was slammed on her face.

Now, the man's attention was focused towards me. I gulped, looking away and practically running up the stairs. On the left, I see the door that he told me was his son's. I place a hesitant knock on it.

"Hello?" I called out softly.

The door opened, and what I saw was something I did not expect. 

A little boy about half my height with curly blonde hair peeked his head out of the room. My eyes almost bulged out of my head. Shit. His son was a fucking kid?!

I started tapping my feet up and down the floor nervously. Fuck. I was sure the man didn't believe me and immediately caught my lies. A little kid buying groceries? Hell no. And how was I supposed to leave, now? It would have been better if the son was my age or something. I could have probably persuaded the guy to lie if ever my Aunt questioned him about me and his name, and hopefully let me leave the house through a window or something.

A little kid would confess to his Dad that I was a stranger like the little shits they are. 

"Who are you?" He tilted his head innocently.

"Hi, kid." I mumbled, defeated. "I'm your friend, apparently."

"Oh." He said. The two of us were engaged in a staring contest for a few seconds until I heard a shuffle from inside the room.

I stiffened as a pair of feet seemingly started walking towards the door. Shit, was his mom inside? I looked at the stairs, ready to bolt out. Damn it. I should get out of her before--Aye, Papi.

My eyes were wide as saucers upon staring at the shirtless man. Damn, what a lean body he had. I gulped.

"Who are you?" His voice sounded like melted chocolates.

"James!" The little boy yelled, attacking him by hugging his legs. My breath got knocked out of my lungs. "She's my friend. Her name is A-parent-ly."

The kid's words travelled around my brain and sat there, waiting for me to comprehend it. "You're name is James?" I squeaked--or made a dying sound. I didn't know what I was doing anymore.

Oh my fucking--

"Kohl James Castillo," He answered, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning towards me. I backed away. "Who the fuck are you and why are you here?"

I puked all over him.