Monster (BWWM) complete

Murderer

Vote. Comment. Thanks.  Is Bryce selfish??

Bryce groaned softly as he slowly wrapped a fresh bandage around his black and green ribs. It was sloppily done, but it had to be done. He took a break and leaned back against his bed's headboard, his head digging into the carved wood. He sucked in careful breaths and his fingers trembled. He closed both of his eyes and tried breathing through the pain.

Programming, that's what Marcus had called it, that torture, the beatings, the pain. Programming. He couldn't understand it. What in the hell was he being programmed for? Why didn't the older man just call it what it was? Maria was taking her frustrations out on him. Yeah, it wasn't always her, but the woman made sure he was aware of who was behind every beating he ever took. Who gave him the pain and who could take it away.

He sagged against his headboard and looked around the bedroom he was given.

"I allowed you to leave the basement and collar behind, Bryce. You should be thankful." She had said. "I'm allowing you as my animal, free range of my house... I give you food. I'm a pretty reasonable pet owner, aren't I?"

Bryce gritted his teeth and pushed himself forward, finishing up wrapping up his ribs. Once finished he quietly panted and reached for his shirt right as there was a tap at his door. He quickly slid his arms into his shirt and looked up just as Marcus walked in without waiting for his response.

Bryce lightly smiled at the large man who he couldn't call a friend but did at times talk with him. Marcus didn't return his smile and instead sat two items down on the bed in front of him.

One was a pair of black, leather gloves the other was a mini-bottle of liquor. He stared at both items in confusion before he looked back up at the man as he began to button his shirt.

"I don't drink, I've already... said so last time." He joked lightly.

"You'll need both items for the job Aunt Maria has assigned you." Marcus said bluntly. "One as a precaution during, the other for comfort afterwards." Bryce stared at the man. "Good luck, kid."

(B)(B)

He couldn't murder someone. He couldn't.

Bryce stared at the gun sitting comfortably in it's silver metal case, waiting for him. It's clip sat in a separate holder, also in the case on the guns left. On the right was metal cylinder – a silencer.

"You have to." Marcus said dully, large fingers tapping on the dark leather of the steering-wheel. A gentle drizzle pelted against the windshield outside of the car Bryce found himself a passenger of.

They were parked down the street from a large gray-stoned mansion, the lights were on upstairs, glowing brightly in the night.

His fingers trembled and picked at his wrists underneath his sweat-shirt sleeves as he shot the older man a disbelieving look. "I...I can't."

Marcus didn't even look at him, but continued to stare at the home down the street. "Krissy is already in there."

Bryce's blood ran cold. "W-What in the hell do you mean Krissy is already in there?"

"That man... he has a thing for young girls... she's seducing him right now, trying to get information."

Bryce shook his head, his heart thudding against his aching ribs. "No..." He swallowed dryly. "No... she's not in there."

Marcus stopped tapping his fingers. "She is... and that's reality."

Bryce looked back at the house. The muscles in his shoulders and legs jumped with the need for movement, for action, but he waited. "Is she..." Is she going to have sex with him?