Collateral

His eyes were intense despite the color being soft sienna. In the dark of his red Corvette, his eyes matched. His pupils were red, a Kubrick stare out the front foggy window. He proceeded to crack the window and light a cigarette. Alternative metal rocked softly on the radio, a beer in the middle, opened, but in his defense, he was parked. He wore all black, his body slim. Shorter than average. The legs were spread to hide his hard on, luckily it was small so his jeans didn't give him away if someone were to walk by. The night was dark like charcoal, the street light didn't even want to look at him. As he finished his cigarette, it started to rain. He took a chug of the last of the beer, then shoved his cig butt into her. There was blood still under his fingernails. He checked himself out in the mirror above, his pupils small from coke, but bloodshot from drinking. He chewed the blood out of his nails with his teeth, the taste making him harder. He turned off the music and closed his eyes. He could hear the heartbeat in the trunk of the corvette. He pulled his phone out and opened it to an incognito page. There was a blog ready to be filled.

"I finally did it. I got a Stacy. I found a sad one down bad and hooked on H. She's pretty new to being on it so she's still hot. Her being a pretty stuck up bitch, she originally was a whore for blow. She loved my new car, and was ecstatic when I said I could provide her my El Diablo special. She kept reminding me that just because I had a cool car, didn't mean she was going to suck my dick. I proceeded to ask if she was going to buy the drugs. She called me an asshole, but told her to get high first. That worked for me. She was inexperienced enough that I could get her pretty fucked up. That's exactly what happened. She's breathing, but her fingertips are a little purple. Her mouth is taken care of, and her lips and arms can't disrupt the silence. It's 2:38am and the perfect weather to rape her. She'll wake up and have no clue what happened. She'll do more than suck my dick. I'll throw her out a few blocks away in an hour tops and I'll have everything I need. I need to charge my phone for a while. I'll have pics up shortly."

He pulled out his pack of smokes, his skinny hands ripping off the top and seeing its empty, with the exception of used needles.

"Shit." he whispered in his velvet voice. He put on his fitted hat and lifted his hood, turned off the car, and walked up to enter his apartment to grab his other pack of cigarettes inside. The sky was overcast, no star in sight. The moon didn't even dare make an appearance. He pulled out his keys, filing through them.

"Hey, Eric."

He had seen the figure in his peripherals. The voice startled him at first, but then a nervous lustful feeling came over him. His eyes were comfortable with the dark, so he could see her glowing pale skin under the nothingness.

"Wynter." He seemed surprised to see her. His voice stayed soft.

He noticed her eyes were glossy, couldn't tell if she was high or had been crying. She had on a black tank top under a short leather jacket, and a black short skirt. She had a big round ass and nice tits. She didn't fit his scale. He thought she was beautiful. Her black hair was in a high pony tail, her ears were modified with holes in her ears, and multiple facial piercings. She was shaking.

"Are you cold?"

"No-I'm upset. I don't know why you keep blowing me off-" she pulled out a pack of smokes from her bra.

"Can I have one?"

"Why should I give you one?!"

"Hey, hey, lower your voice, please. I'm sorry. Please."

She flustery opened the pack and gave him one. He pulled out a lighter and lit his cig, then she lit hers. Her piercings and dark eyes flickered with scorn in the flame.

"I don't know why you don't want me. I've been throwing myself at you for years. I want you so bad, Eric. I have done everything. Coke, Acid, Molly. No drug has me the way you have me. I drink all the time, especially after fucking someone. All I see is your eyes. I just want you. Why won't you fuck me?" She pulls out a shooter from the same bra. She opens it with her teeth, spitting the deformed lid, then taking it in a few gulps. Wynter flicked her empty shooter at the tire of the corvette. "Nice car. Wish you would drive me around in it. Why am I not good enough for you? We have so much in common, and you know as much as I do that we have a supernatural connection. I don't know why I can't just fucking move on from you. Please, why won't you see me? Be with me? I need you so bad, Eric, even though you give me crumbs. Your eyes say yes, but your body is so closed off."

Eric's heart raced even though he covered it up well. He glanced at his car. He didn't have much time. Plus, she wanted to fuck him. He wanted to achieve the impossible. He wanted not to feel like a small little virgin anymore. He didn't want to lose it to Wynter. She was way too much of a woman for him. She was filled of poison like him. Their darkness brought them together in the first place. He wanted revenge on the whores that think they're too good for men like him. This girl was pretty much one of the guys, which was honestly a turn off to Eric.

"I know you care for me. I've seen it. Then you pull away. Like. What the fuck."

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I can't be with you. I think I'm too fucked up."

"Please do this blow with me at least? Do some lines with me and I'll fuck off. Just let me piss and you can just enjoy breaking my heart for the last time."

He sighed, looked over to his car, then gave her a glare. "Fine." She always had the best coke.

A part of him wanted her. She was the perfect match for him. As they walked up the stairs and to his room, he thought that she was too similar to him. She was way out of his league, yet, enjoyed the attention she did give. It made him feel powerful. If he were to actually be with her, he'd loose that spark. She'd probably be disappointed in his cock. A blowjob would be nice. The girl who is drugged on heroin in his trunk can't really suck. His apartment was fairly nice, very clean and organized. He had posters of Nu metal bands on the walls, some posters of naked girls in pornographic poses. Wynter wandered into the bathroom to piss, her heels clicking in the hardwood. He checked her out as he took a seat on his couch.

Just need to do some lines and let this bitch suck me off, then I can fuck my real bitch. Wynter will give it her best and I bet I'll cum fast.

Eric had a bowl of weed sitting on the table. He picked up the pipe and hit it.

Wynter fixed her makeup in the mirror before flushing. She left and joined Eric on the couch, pulling out two more shooters as well as two bags of powder. He didn't know if he was merely seeing things, but it appeared to have dried blood on it.

"You know, if this coke is as good as last time, I'll let you play with my cock."

Her eyes lit up and she rubbed her legs together in delight. "Yeah? Well, perhaps tonight isn't the night you break my heart after all." She playfully bit on her lips piercing. She laughed, her menacing demeanor gone now. He did like her laugh. She had a sweet smile. Always dressed like she's going to a party with celebrities, but never invited to party with the elites. This was definitely the nicest pad she's done drugs in.

"Do you feel like Marilyn Monroe, being here with me?" his voice was deep, rich, like chocolate.

She opened the shooter normally this time, he noticed her nails were freshly done. Squared French tips. She slid the other shooter across the glass table, Eric grabbing it in time. He forced it open.

"I do, Eric baby. You're my JFK. Cheers."

"Cheers."

They both kicked back their hard liquor. The night was so quiet. He had a few large lights on. You could only hear a single car driving on the wet street. His apartment had large windows, but his blackout curtains were sealed shut. Wynter bit her lip and put her hands on his thin thighs. He leaned forward and grabbed one of the bags. "Let's get high first."

"Yes, baby."

He lifted the bag and opened it. Wynter suddenly gasped. "You know what, I think that's H, baby. The bloody bag is coke. Long story actually-"

"I know what coke looks like. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Not at all, baby, just-"

"Don't call me baby."

"Sorry, Eric. I just have that to sell, I only do blow, I don't-"

"This is fucking coke, Wynter. They both look like coke. I think you're too drunk and horny to know what you're saying."

"That's not true. If you look-"

"Wynter. Just be quiet." He had a small mirror and money set out already. He poured out the whole baggy, a small mountain on the mirror. He pulled out his ID and made a large line. Then two large ones.

Wynter was becoming visibly nervous. Her leg was shaking and her chest was rising and falling. "Eric, that's heroin, I know the bag with-"

His eyes pierced her, no longer sienna, but red, his face hauntingly still. His lips seemed to hold back razor teeth. Rip out her throat in one quick swoop. She fell victim and stayed silent. He removed his hood and hat, his car keys, his empty ripped back of smokes, placing it on the wallet. He removed his shoes, then wrapped up his $100 bill. He snorted the first line, then the second.

"Ahh, fuck." His nose began to ignite in flames immediately. The burning went to his eyes, they began to shed tears. He coughed into his hoodie.

"Eric?"

He pushed her away, she leaned back to the other side of the couch. His coughing transformed into gasping for air. His nose began to bleed from both holes, getting into his mouth. His eyes looked up into the lights, the light getting dimmer and dimmer. The tears were hot. His normal face was gone. Instead of the red, there was the softness again. His eyes wide like looking into the eyes of the creator. Perhaps his life flashed before his eyes. Wynter groaned and cried as he pissed himself and fell limp on the couch. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he gargled.

There was stark silence. Wynter stopped crying and held her breath. Then she exhaled slowly. Her mouth agape. Her legs began shaking as she sat up. "Eric, you fucking idiot. I told you. I told you."

She crawled over and kissed him on his open bloody mouth. "Why did you have to be such a fucking idiot?" She poured out some of the powder from the bloody bag, and took a few lines. She sat there and stared at his body. She started rubbing his thigh, then his small bulge. She unzipped his pants, seeing he was not wearing boxers. She got wet once she touched his still warm cock. Then she pulled away. "What the fuck am I doing?"

She looked at his bloody face, her eyes filling with tears. They were warm streaming down her face. She wiped them away quickly, then blew her nose with a tissue in her purse. She slammed some lines. She licked what blood was still on her lips away with her pierced tongue. "I'm glad I didn't wear my usual lipstick."

She took a deep breath and got on her knees near him. She knew she didn't have much time. She pulled out his dick and started sucking. She fingered herself until she came, her wetness running down her leg, she also wasn't wearing any underwear. She stood up and went back into the bathroom, to freshen up. She touched up her makeup and took a piss before coming back to the glass table. She grabbed his set of keys. She took another moment to look at him. "I wish you would have just fucked me. I would set this world on fire for you."

She fumbled for a minute trying to find which key locked his apartment. She locked it before running out to Eric's corvette. She got in and put on her seatbelt, turned up the radio, and sped off. It was just her racing down the road, nothing in sight but darkness. She was startled by a muffled thump. She looked in the rearview mirror and saw no cars, no people, nothing. Just darkness and a few lights now she was leaving Eric's. She turned down the music, hearing muffled screams. It made Wynter's heart pound violently. "Where the fuck is that coming from?"

The loud thump happened again. First it was just once every few blocks, then it happened over and over again, the screaming continuing. Wynter felt the dread creep into her soul, her mouth dry from hyperventilating. Her throat burned. "Is someone in the fucking trunk?"

She soared through a red light and a trash truck had no time to react. The truck obliterated the corvette and then barreled into a line of parked cars on the silent street. It engulfed the night with screams of wreckage. The truck ended up on its side and the corvette was nearly flat and split in two. It was stopped by a fence, but the car was on fire in a matter of minutes. The flames lit the black sky. Car alarms were singing and yelling from apartment windows began. People came out in their slippers to see what occurred. The sounds of sirens and red and blue lights were being anticipated. Most were recording the crash, some scarcely called the fire department. The air was only moist with voices of civilians, the flames of the corvette, the car alarms. The rain began to spit gently, like angels had no tears left.