Luca (I Love the Way You Lie #1) (3 page)

My isolation, abandonment, and anxiety gave way to emotional arousal. I lived to see the chaos as well as the destruction that I—or others—have caused…after a fire, fleeting thoughts of sadness and anguish remained. The one thing that was constant was my erection. Starting fires got me hard. I stayed hard throughout and shortly thereafter. A release was needed. I’ve always been a highly sexual person.

I took note of the room number they rolled her into before taking my cigarette into the courtyard. It was a star-free night with just a miasma of the moon in the distance. Nodding to the security guard just outside the door, my rugged biker boots walked to the concrete bench where I kicked back to enjoy the rest of my cigarette while contemplating my shit life inside these walls. Temporary, yes, but it gnawed away at my psyche like it was forever.

My fists balled into white knuckles; anger flowed through my veins, hitching a ride to every nerve. The door closed with a slam. I didn’t move…didn’t care to fucking know who was interrupting my attempt at some peace. Curling my finger to get a good spin, I flicked my cigarette across the courtyard in annoyance, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke.

“Hey, why didn’t you say you were going for a smoke?” Sarah asked while lighting her cigarette.

Sarah was a thin, mousey-brown haired, blue-eyed girl, who claimed to be bi-sexual because it was trendy. She was attractive but
thought
she was a lot cooler than she was. She came off as an annoying pretentious bitch. She also had a thing for me. I
might
have fingered her at some point, bringing her to orgasm in the recreational room. Ever since then, she hasn’t given me a moment’s peace. My reason for doing it was plain and simple…I could. Impulse. She was there. I had an itch. I scratched it. End of story. She told everyone she was in for sex-addiction. I stole a look at her file. She was in because of drug-induced psychosis. Definitely less attractive than sex-addiction.

See, that’s the thing…we all lied about what we were really here for, hidden behind doctor-patient privileges. However, I had access to files at times when my uncle had phone calls to make. So, I made the most of it…snooping to get the goods on all these jerkoffs. Some legitimately needed help. But those patients were in a different ward and on a different floor. The freaks weren’t allowed to be in gen-pop—as I called it.

I didn’t answer her… praying she’d just fucking leave.

“Hello?” She waved her hands, finally resting them on her hips.
Fuck me
.

“Listen, I got you off. It was one time. Get over it already. I’m not looking for a relationship.” I spoke slowly and definitively so there was no confusion.

She blinked a few times before responding. “Listen, I have a problem okay? I need sex. I’m clinically addicted.”

“Ummhmm.” I shook my head while digging through my pocket for another smoke. This was rich. I almost laughed.

“You want to hook-up again? Now? I can get security to take a walk.” She motioned with her chin to Doug. Like I said, pretentious.

Lighting my Newport, I stood up, making my way toward the entrance.

“Wait. I’m sorry. I’m not good at this. The…
you
and
me
part.” She motioned between the both of us with her hand.

“Babe, there’s no you and me. That’s what I’m getting at. We had a moment. You came and I went. That’s about the extent of it. Let’s not make this uncomfortable, okay?” I raised an eyebrow in frustration.

She went wide-eyed and I saw the cogs starting to gain face. “Oh, I know. I just figured…you know. But, whatever it’s cool. Hey, you see the chick they brought in?” She smiled, appearing unaffected by my comments. “Pretty right? I’m gonna hit her up in the morning. See if she wants to sit with us at breakfast.” She winked as I dropped my cigarette, stepping on it.

“Whatever.” I walked away, entering the building and heading straight for my room. Indulging her for another moment would be giving her some infinitesimal sign we were something.

A large group was gathered in the rec room playing pool while others were watching TV. I hooked a left down the long hallway to my room. When I reached my door, I watched Nurse Jennings came from
her
room. She nodded goodnight to me on her way past. I obliged but walked past my door to have a look. My uncle nearly ran into me while leaving her room, jotting down notes on his trusty clipboard.

“Luca.” He nodded. “You need something?” He tapped his Mont Blanc pen against the clipboard.

“Nope. Just going to my room.” I squared my shoulders, ready for his clinical bullshit speech.

“You’re room’s back there.” He pointed with his pen.

I nodded, fisting my hands. “I wanted to meet the fresh meat in the ward.” I feigned indifference, knowing his reaction would give me the necessary information I was after.

“Don’t be crude. My advice to you is to stay away. Let Allison meet everyone on her time. She needs to settle in. You know just as anyone, it’s an adjustment. Give her time. Please,” he said, signing papers as he spoke.

Allison
.

I nodded my understanding, knowing fully well I’d never obey. Tomorrow… I’ll give it until tomorrow. I was curious. Wondered how fucked up she was, always drawn to fractured people like myself. Not that I needed a friend. I had whom I needed by my side. I considered myself a lone wolf. However, I wanted to know her story. Call me selfish or narcissistic, but I felt less alone knowing there were other fucked up people out there…encouraged even.

I toed off my boots and stuffed my ear-buds in… turning up Chevelle’s “Send the Pain Below,” and kicking back thought about Allison’s shitty first night here. My first night was fucked. I didn’t want to be an inpatient. I had no choice—court ordered. My only source of fun came at the expense of other patients. It was my form of rebellion. If I got caught, my treatment would be extended. So, I played it real cool.

I lit another butt before lights out. Hmm? She was now in my playground. I prided myself in getting to know everyone’s backstory. But there was something about her. Maybe the volatile way she made her way into the ward? I got off on it. A surge of adrenaline hit me, almost wanting it to be me. I opened my zipper, grabbing my already hard cock, working it the way I liked…squeezing while stroking fast. Her fevered face spurred me on. The angst her body held ignited me. My hand was firm on my shaft as I grabbed my balls with the other, squeezing. Fuck, I needed a warm mouth on my cock. Picturing her wet mouth taking my cock deep, I came hard in my hand…

~~~

A loud knock at my door echoed. “Yo, open up, man.” My best friend, Archer, came for his usual weekly visit. His parents were loaded. Not to mention, in my parents’ social circle. Because of that, we were afforded certain luxuries…like late night visits. We had future business plans—plans we made while getting high. Nevertheless, he was being a true friend seeing me through the darkness that seemed to consume me.

“Yo,” I answered, opening the door. He walked past me, sitting in the chair beside my bed.

“What’s the good word?” he asked, grabbing the music magazine from my nightstand. “Dude, is Oliver Sven here in this very building?” He pointed at the magazine cover.

I rolled my eyes. I hated that tatted fucker.

“Last album,
The Cure
, dropped; it was dope. Speaking of dope…he’s got quite the problem, huh?”

I shrugged. I’m not really interested in that poser. Nor did I want to waste a moment of my time speaking about the asshole. “I’m about to go fuck-nuts. Tell me you brought alcohol,” I asked, putting out my butt in the water cup next to my lamp. There was no smoking, but fuck that. They knew if I didn’t have an outlet, shit would get real. They didn’t encourage it, but this was my room for now. So fuck them. I’d crack a window and have at it. I needed a vice, and right now, smoking was it.

He opened his jacket, pulling a fifth of Soco and a joint. “Let’s get bent.”

“On a fifth? I don’t think so, but I’m not going to complain.” I grabbed the bottle, taking a long swig, holding the bottle like it was my lifeline. Fuck, this place sucked.

“Luca, listen…I’m not one to get all heavy on you, but I will if I have to. Please, for fucks sake, do your therapy. Get better. Think of our end game. Global domination. We have the money, the means, and the connections to really do it big. Our families are connected. If we own our own business, your record means shit. You don’t have to worry about any of that. It’s me and you. Done and done. You feel me, bro?” He extended his fist for me to bump and I did. He was right. I had a future. But I had these fucked up impulses to extinguish shit, too. It was fucked up. I was fucked up. “You’ve got a month, maybe a little more. Real it in, dude. Let’s get you the fuck out of here already.”

He motioned for the bottle and then took a swig, gesturing with his chin toward the window. He opened a silver cigarette holder that read, “Rock out with your cock out” with a colorful roster blazing the front. His fingers carefully removed a joint that was sandwiched between his Camels. He didn’t do menthol like I did. He needed the full-strength draw of tobacco. I made a play for the joint, lighting it in seconds. My fingers were twitchy to light it.

I took my first toke, holding it deep in my lungs. “You know I’m fucking trying, right?” Cough. Cough. “It’s fucking work. I fight the impulse every day, all day.” I passed it to him. I was known for bogarting in the past. Might I start to implement this little yet noticeable change?

He grabbed it, smiling. Yep, he noticed, pulling the smoke in through his nose before toking—chasing the dragon. “Yo, I can’t say I know what you’re feeling. Cause I don’t. I don’t have a motherfucking clue why you’re so obsessed with fire and shit. What I
do
know is there’s
no
future for us if you continue burning your parents’ shit down. And that’s for fuck sure.”

This was good shit. I was already feeling the mellow high seep into my limbs—numbing my mind and bleeding out sweet surrender. Into the darkness, my thoughts crept along, unsure of my future. Thrumming on the windowpane, I nearly forgot Archer was there as I nearly consumed three quarts of the bottle alone.

“Fuck, my bad.” I handed him the nearly empty bottle. It felt real good to have THC flushed with alcohol. I had a brief sense of ease instead of feeling like I was being buried.

He finished his text before looking up. “No worries, man. I’ve got to jet. I’ll see you in a few days.” We shook on it with a heavy pat on the back. “Later.”

Nights never came easy. By nature, I was–nocturnal. My preference would be to sleep all day and play all night. I never looked for anecdotal or scientific support because I loved to watch the night go up in smoke. I wanted to see the night’s chaos and destruction. It has always fascinated me as much as fire—the freaks that come out at night. People blame their lack of inhabitation on alcohol, drugs, loneness, or even rejection. Bullshit. It’s all about impulsivity. They say, “The night is full of terrors.” I lived to watch them burn away. Who am I kidding? I’m fixated on my lighter—thrusting my finger against the flint to produce a spark…the feel of friction against my skin. That’s the shit that gets me hard…pulling my balls tight against my body. Lost in thought, I had to admit there was a certain curiosity to the new emo girl. I didn’t know her. Part of me didn’t give a fuck. Time wasn’t on my side. However, the sadist in me wanted to poke and prod. I enjoyed her sassy mouth and resistance when I was near. And this was the animal I had become.

I spent the next few days to myself. I participated when I absolutely had to, not wanting to draw further attention to myself. As my newly appointed nickname seemed to gain some steam from yours truly, I was now known as the
emo
chick. God, I wanted to fade into the background noise. As much of a ghost I wanted to be,
he
was always there, making my world uncomfortable and annoying. I wanted him to leave me the fuck alone. However, he thrived all the more on my awkwardness, which really pissed me the fuck off.

If that wasn’t enough, I now had a room-mate—Keri. She was a mousey type girl with brown hair extensions, big brown eyes, and a lithe frame displaying her belly piercing. She needed a Big Mac. Her choice of clothing consisted of bra-tops and leggings—all different shades of bright neon colors. Good god almighty. Her reasoning made sense I guess. If she was going to be dancing for ten hours straight, the less clothes the better. She landed her ass here after acquiring a nasty addiction to rave drugs such as ecstasy, molly, and special-K. If that wasn’t enough, she blasted her DJ infused music to communicate her feelings with me. She called it buddy sharing. NOT. Fuck my life.