Grayson Snaps

Chapter 17: Trust & Deliverance

Chapter 17: Trust & Deliverance

A feeling of disgust rushes through me, not only because of the fact that my own brother has decided to lay one on me, but because his mouth is bloody and fucking gross as hell.

This whole situation is gross as hell too. Talk about Sweet Home Alabama...

I can instantly taste the metallic, coppery sting of blood and I purse my lips together to not let any of it in my mouth. Grayson's eyes are closed as he leans into the kiss almost ravenously, his hand moving to cup my cheek, his thumb settling on the space just below my jaw.

Now, I jerk back, overwhelmed with the hard, unforgiving wave of revulsion, anger, and fear rushing through me like a title wave. I instantly taste the blood; Grayson's hand is still on the side of my face. His amber colored eyes snap open to accommodate, his hand squeezing tighter on my hip as I try to pull away from him.

Grayson must be really fucked up in the head to think this is okay.

"You're fucked!" I yell, grabbing at his hand and yanking it off me. I angerly wipe away the blood with the back of my hand.

For a moment, he freezes, a look of anger flashes on his face as I take a few stumbling steps away.

Then, Grayson smiles, moves forward, and shoves me to the ground. Suddenly, I'm trying to lessen the blow as I fall, landing on my elbow and side. I'm surprised that the breath isn't knocked out of me as I hit the hallway floor. Grayson is suddenly crouched down, completely on his knees.

What...the...fuck.

My heart is thudding in my chest with panic as Grayson grins, grabbing me by the back of my knees and dragging me back towards him. I feel the sheer warmth emanating from his body as it clashes against the cold hallway air.

I kick harshly in return, knocking the bottom of my foot right against his shoulder; he growls, and jerks up slightly, but as I try to scramble back on my ass, he grabs my leg, keeping me in place. He seizes my other one with his other hand as I try to kick him, and then he's slowly crawling on top of me, hands moving so they are on either side of my torso. I'm about to kick him in the stomach, when I stop at the sound of his voice.

"You'd love it, E," Grayson rumbles, grinning. He looks so damn psychotic that it's terrifying. I feel sick as Grayson climbs further on top of me.

"You should come along for the ride," he practically purrs.

Twisting my shoulders, I still try to move back and up from under him. But with one hand, Grayson presses down on my chest and I'm pushed down onto my back again.

"A little scratch," he says, moving along with me, making sure my legs are under him as I try to pull them up. "We could swap some juices..."

He's now fully on me, his hands on either side of my head, looking down.

I finally stop trying to get away; it's clear it's not working.

"We'll be our own pack," he says, "like before. You and me."

I raise my arm to block the space right at his neck in case I need to shove his face away from mine. What Grayson is proposing is out of the question; if anything, it's making me physically sick.

He's looking down at me, panting, expecting me to answer him. I swallow thickly, letting my arm down slightly.

"I'd rather be dead," I say slowly, carefully; my voice cracks. "Than be what you are."

Grayson just gazes down at me, his grin melting, forming into a look of anger, then pure, unadulterated hurt and loathing.

I can't help but flinch when I feel him stiffen above me. I know the second he's about to explode...

"We have a pact!" Grayson yells, and I flinch as I feel my eardrums aching in protest. The blood and spittle flies from the corner of his mouth in a rage, "Out by seventeen or dead at the scene but together for-fucking-ever!"

With his chest rising and falling and his eyes blazing, he looks down at me like I've somehow betrayed him.

"I said I would die for you." He bites out.

"No, Gray," I retort, accentuating every word to hopefully get it through that thick head of his.

"You said you'd die with me because you had nothing better to do."

Slowly, Grayson moves back, his face transforming from anger to hard, bitter content. He begins to lean away from me, saying, "Fuck you too."

But just as he leans away, he's back above me again, like he has something really important to say. And he just has to say it.

"You think I want to go back to being a nobody?"

His voice is suddenly how I remember it; there's a flash of the old Grayson there, right behind that thick shine of amber in his deathly-looking eyes. There's a slight pain to his voice and lying there, panting up at my blood-covered brother, I recall all the times Tristan had beaten up on us, all the times his friends had called us pussies, had spat on us, had told us to go fuck ourselves.

I'm recollecting all the moments Grayson had been rejected by girls, how they had looked at him like he was the weird kid, the kid that liked to wear a dangling earring-"God, you know he has to be a faggot, right?"- how that had turned him mean in some way; he had closed in on himself in several aspects, had shrunken up in dark colored hoodies and silence and that double edged sword that he called his heart.

I remember all the times Mom had said something about how well I was doing in school, or how great my art project was, while she hadn't even given a glance over to Grayson, even when he sat there, a slight tremble to his lips, looking like he might burst into tears at any moment, glancing down at his own painting like it wasn't sufficient enough. It would never be good enough. Not for her. Not for anybody.

I remember every time Grayson and I had dreamt of death in the darkness of our shared bedroom, just he and I, like we were back in the close harmony of our shared womb, living on the life blood of sick imagination.

In Grayson's eyes, I imagine, he is trying to set us both free.

This is power-in a twisted, evil sense of the word.

I don't say anything, and I know the moment Grayson is taking it as a sign that I am rejecting him.

"You're fucked!" He suddenly exclaims, snarling, and pushes up off me.

He suddenly kicks me right against the meat of my left thigh; I gasp, my eyes widening at the pain that shoots up inside me, racing like a flash of lightning up my nerve endings.

Fuck, that hurt.

"Leave me alone, E!" He growls, backing away, his steps slightly shaky on the concrete.

I just stare at him, trying not to close my eyes at the pain exploding in my leg.

"I'll tell Sam you said Hi," he says, sounding cold; yet he gives me a small, satisfied smile.

I finally curl onto my side, grabbing onto my thigh as I hear Grayson turning to go.

From a horizontal angle on the floor I watch as he makes his way out the doors of our high school.

As they slam closed, I finally allow my eyes to squeeze shut.