Luke
I hated winter. Winters in New York were cold and bitter. It made it harder to get around, not to mention the heating bill went up during the winter. It cost a fucking fortune just to make sure I wouldn't freeze half to death.
But, by far the worst part of winter was the smell of blood. The icy breeze always caused the blood on my hands and clothes to dry fast and refused to come out for days. The stench became twice as unbearable, the metallic and bitter taste not washing out for at least a week.
This December was no different from any other winter night. The wind blew somberly as small flakes of snow dusted the streets. A sigh fell from my lips as I knew my soaked hair would be frozen by the time I got back to my shitty house in downtown Queens.
God, I just wanted to go back to L.A. where it was always warm. Of course, my mother's ex-husband had other plans for us. He moved us out to New York when I was ten and even after he bailed my mother remained working three jobs to pay rent and put me through school. What a waste that turned out to be, as I dropped out as soon as I turned fifteen.
It was always me and my mom, the two of us against he world. After my father left, we became so much closer. While most boys pushed their single mothers away, my mother became my best friend. Of this world I lived in, this cruel gang filled with drugs and murder and prostitution, my mother was the one light. She saw through the crimes and told me that at the end of the day I was her son, and no matter what I did or what crimes I committed each day, she would always love me.
I carried that live even after she died. It had been a painful ten months since that time. With her death, caused by my abusive ex-step-father when he broke in and murdered her, the level of killing, dealing, and sleeping around I did, increased. I hunted and killed at least five people a day, dealt thousands worth of drugs, and had a new girl, sometimes two, in my bed every night.
None of the girls were memorable. All were simply pick-ups from the side of the road, looking to get paid for a night of just sex. That was good enough for me. I didn't need a name or even so much as a face. Having them remain faceless made me feel less guilty for using them. I respected women, unlike most men in this cruel world of gangs. My mother brought that out in me, I suppose. But, despite my respect, I couldn't shake my need for sex. It was addicting, as much as any drug I dealt on a day-to-day basis.
The gang I led was merciless. At fifteen, I'd been the right-hand-man to Will Harvey, the youngest he'd ever had. After he was killed in a crossfire with a rival gang, nine months ago, I took over as leader. It did, of course, give me less time to find and hook up with any girls on the side, but there was this one...
I don't remember her name, only her face. A gorgeous blonde, with sweet brown eyes and freckles dusting her nose and cheeks. A natural beauty, not like the fake girls I usually picked up. No...no she was different. And out of all the girls I'd slept with, she was the only one I took to my bed more than once. We never exchanged names, it never seemed necessary to either of us and it remained an unspoken agreement that it would remain that way.
A week. That was how long we shared a bed for. It was comforting, in a way. I came home, and she'd be there to help me out of my bloody clothes and wrap her arms around me as we made love. Yes. It was never just sex with her. Each time it was so much more.
I'd never made love before I met her. But, with her, simply having sex just felt wrong in a way. Though, I wouldn't say I loved her; we'd only spent the week together. However, for that one week, she'd made me feel alive again.
Then one day she was gone. I never knew where she went, and I never heard from her again. But in a way, I was content. It didn't bother me as much as it may have bothered someone else. That one week was all I needed. It was all I wanted. I knew then I would never forget her, her loving eyes, her warm lips, and the feelings of her slender body against mine.
Those are but a distant memory now. Each one drifting on the wind as I made my way to the house I alone shared. Maybe I should find a girl for tonight. Too much work. If I found one along the way that piqued my interest I held no objections. Of course, I just wouldn't go out of my way to find one.
I slowed my walking just slightly. Despite the cold and my absolute despise for it, I was in no rush to get home. It was lonely. I was always reminded that my mother wasn't coming back. That she wasn't there to hold me as I cried from the horrific images of things I'd done. No, at home I was left in my state of lonely depression. I wasn't in any rush to return to that. Especially not when I truly was alone.
"Care for some company?"
Bingo.
I knew I wouldn't have to try. If a girl came by I wouldn't have to say anything for her to offer company. I wasn't arrogant, I was just used to it. Apparently women like tattoos? I don't know and frankly I couldn't care less; just as long as it ensures I don't go home alone every night.
I turned and flashed a smirk in the girl's direction. She was like all the rest; short skirt, tight-fitted top, heels and sexy curves. God I hate skinny women. There's nothing to hold, you know? I love my women with some curve to them.
I gave her one last once over and smirked again. "How much?" I asked simply. A woman in any other part of the city would take offense. But, in this area, the only woman willing to risk her safety with a good time, was a woman who got paid for the sex.
She sashayed over, with her hips swaying in a manner that made me think of all the positions in which I'd have to grab and hold them. Before I even realized, she stood in front of me with our chests almost touching, and ran her nails over my left bicep. Her closeness gave me a good view down her cleavage. I wasn't a fan of large boobs, however I didn't like them small either. Hers were perfect, making me smile.
She waited another minute before answering. Like all the others, she was simply eyeing me up, thinking about if I'd be good in bed or a complete waste of her time. I knew that if my physical appearance impressed her enough, I wouldn't be paying as much as someone who didn't appeal to her. That was how the game worked.
"Two hundred."
Cheaper than I expected. I was used to paying two-fifty to three hundred. I wouldn't complain, though. Instead, I took her hand casually, not saying a word, and pulled her the last few blocks to my place. I had barely closed the door when she pushed me against the wall and kissed me furiously. Her hands went for my belt as she began to grind her hips against mind.
I wouldn't have this, no. As much as I liked confidence in a woman, I needed to dominate during sex. With a growl, I gripped her hair and flipped our positions to pin her against the wall. One hand held her arms above her head, the other I used to grope her.
I ran my hand over her breast and down her stomach to shove her skirt and thong down her thighs. It wasn't long before I had her moaning in pleasure...
It was a wild night. She wasn't the best lay, by any means, but by far wasn't the worst. She ended up leaving as soon as we finished, which I was fine with. It made things easier and less awkward. We'd both gotten what we'd wanted after all.
I laid in bed alone. My thoughts overtook my mind; thoughts of how much I desired to leave the gang. While Will had been like a father to me, that didn't change the fact that I didn't particularly care for being in the gang. Of course, after his death, I'd had no choice nor say in the matter any longer. I was the new leader, and there was no way out except to die.
Memories of my mom took over. I could see her smiling face as I entered the doorway, coming home from a long day at school. How she'd hug me and kiss my head while asking how my day was and what I'd learned. I'd answer with a roll of my eyes, telling her school was school. God, I wish I'd answered her more sincerely.
With memory after memory flooding my mind, I'd almost missed the sound of knocking on my front door. With a glance to the clock beside my bed, I frowned at the time. 3 A.M. Who the hell was awake at this time? It was with a reluctant grunt that I threw the sheets off myself and sauntered down the hall to the door.
Upon opening the door, no one was there. A few crows stood together, gathering what appeared to be the human remains of a man. The snow fell heavier than earlier, making it difficult to see past twenty feet.
With one last quick glance around I prepared to close the door; but then I heard the strangest sound. A cry? A small, strangled cry. Confusion waited on my face, I looked down, where the cry came from, where, as soon as I did, my heart jumped into my throat.
