Deviant

Chapter 2

Rowen

Bored beyond belief, I stare up at Aidan’s bedroom ceiling. My attention is drawn away from my boyfriend—grunting and moaning on top of me—to the small dark water stain starting to spread across it like an ominous creeping shadow.

“You’re so hot, babe. So fucking hot,” Aidan praises in my ear, his head hidden in the crook of my neck as he continues to try to fuck my imprint onto his mattress.

I let out a feigned whimper of approval so that he thinks I’m into his unimaginative dirty talk and uninspired plowing.

I’m not.

Truth be told, I’m taking more pleasure imagining that his bedroom walls are infested with toxic, black mold and that the carcinogenic poison is successfully corrupting my lungs than I am with his poor attempts of trying to make me come.

Not that he notices.

Grunting like some wounded animal, he begins to speed up his thrusts, enthusiastically chasing his orgasm without me.

Nothing new there, either.

Aidan Larsen couldn’t make me come if his life depended on it.

No matter how many times I tell him that getting pounded missionary-style isn’t the turn-on he thinks it is, it’s the only move he has in his less-than-stellar repertoire and the only one that works like a charm to get him across the finishing line—my needs be damned.

I remember a time when that used to aggravate the fuck out of me.

How frustrated I would get with his lack of interest in learning what made me tick… what turned me on… what got me off.

Now… I couldn’t care less.

Even if I had the coordinates to my clit or G-spot, I wouldn’t give it to him. However, something tells me that even with a detailed map, Aidan wouldn’t be able to find either.

If things hadn’t gotten so messed up, I’d have ended this relationship with him ages ago.

But life did get royally fucked, even if I can’t ever seem to.

“Fuck! Fuck! I’m coming! I’m coming!” he grunts loudly in my ear.

Thank God for that.

I know the minute he comes, when his body goes limp on top of mine like a crushing boulder on my chest. A wayward smile tugs on my lips as my lungs start to burn from being oxygen-deprived with his heavy weight on top of me. My arms instantly wrap themselves around him, holding him tighter so that he can lay on top of me a little longer and hopefully finish the job I’ve been too much of a coward to finish myself.

“That was amazing,” he whispers affectionately.

‘It wasn’t.’

“Did you come?”

‘No.’

I nod.

“Good,” he says, pleased with himself, before falling on his back beside me and giving me back room to breathe.

I frown when my lungs instantly draw a deep breath of their own accord, my breathing evening out again far too quickly for my liking.

Traitors.

I’m still fuming as I watch Aidan pull the condom off his now flaccid dick and throw it to the wastebasket at the corner of the room as if he were playing hoops.

Well… that’s my cue.

Before he even thinks of snuggling up to me, wanting to cuddle, I jump off the bed and get dressed.

“You’re leaving already?” he asks, surprised.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumble with a nod while pulling on my white summer dress over my head, followed by my favorite dark navy hoodie.

“I thought you were going to stay the night?” He pouts like a petulant child who was just told that playtime was over and to pack up his favorite toy.

“I promised my dad I’d pick him up after his shift,” I explain, my voice flat as I search for my white chucks under his bed.

“Are you his chauffeur now?” he accuses with unflattering, bitter sarcasm, a complete contrast to his typically friendly tone.

I bite my inner cheek and count to ten before lifting my head up to face my disappointed boyfriend, but a bit of my umbrage for his tone dissipates when I meet his puppy dog eyes staring back at me.

Damn it.

Any other girl in Blackwater Falls would be thrilled to call Aidan Larsen her boyfriend.

He’s got that charming boy-next-door quality about him that people love.

With his light blue eyes, easy pearly-white smiles, and cheek dimples, he can make anyone feel at ease.

It was one of the things I liked most about him—his ability to make me feel safe in a town that is anything but.

However, that was when shit like that mattered to me. The illusion of safety.

It’s really not his fault that I no longer find the trait appealing.

I don’t want safe.

I don’t want security.

I want…

“Can’t your dad take one of the cruisers from the station instead?” He bats his long, blond eyelashes at me, successfully pulling me away from my melancholy thoughts.

“Not if he wants his deputies to have a car for patrol tonight. After Bobby wrecked his last week, there aren’t enough to go around. And you know that the sheriff’s department is tight on funds right now. My dad can’t just buy a new one that easily,” I explain, taking a seat on the bed beside him.

“Yeah, okay,” Aidan mumbles, disheartened. “I guess it’s a good thing that the Harvest Festival is just around the corner then. Your dad will be able to buy a new cruiser and then some after that.”

With the mention of the upcoming season events, I turn my face away from him and start putting on my chucks, just so I don’t have to stare at the hopeful glint that sprouted in his eyes.

When did he become so fucking cynical?

But just as the thought sneaks up on me, I push it away.

I mean, he’s not wrong.

After the Harvest Festival, everyone, including the sheriff’s department, will have enough money to burn. It’s a well-known fact that most people in this town count the days for what happens after the festival since the kickback is usually their largest source of income—if not the only one.

Aidan’s mom, for one, could not survive without it.

Still… it feels wrong to eagerly anticipate such a ghastly event. Especially one that is shrouded with such misery and death.

My moral code might be on the fritz, but I know that no amount of money justifies taking a life.

But then again, who am I to talk?

I took the most precious life there was for free.

Not wanting to engage in a fight or let my guilty conscience do my talking—or thinking—for me, I continue to lace up my sneakers in silence. Once I’m done, I lean down and plant a chaste kiss on Aidan’s cheek, like the dutiful girlfriend he expects me to be.

“Call me when you get home later?” His eyes shine bright with that nagging optimism I once found so endearing.

“I’ll try,” I lie, forcing myself to kiss him again, this time on his lips.

Thankfully, it does the trick to subdue him, allowing me to walk out of his room without further argument.

Once I’m safely standing outside in the hallway, I lean up against the wall, needing a minute to myself, even if only just to breathe without anyone’s eyes on me.

But like always… When I’m alone with only myself for company, my breaths start to come out in painful spurts, like shards of glass ripping through my vocal cords.

Instead of breathing, what I really want to do is scream.

Scream out my agony and torment for everyone to hear.

But if I even dare start to scream now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.

I know I won’t.

So, instead, I take a note from this town’s handbook and keep my lips sealed shut, preferring to let my suffering corrupt me from within where no one will care to see or even notice.

But as soon as I head down the long corridor to make my grand escape out of the Larsen home, I come across Nora’s closed bedroom door and immediately stop in my tracks—like I always seem to do whenever I’m here.

This.

This is why I still come over when Aidan summons me for his lackluster fuck sessions.

I close my eyes and press my forehead against my best friend’s door, allowing myself to pretend that she’s waiting for me on the other side. I tell myself that if I opened the door, I’d find her getting ready for a girls’ night out or in her pink-and-black skull pajamas, scrolling through her phone or binge-watching one of her favorite animes. I pretend that Nora is still alive while inhaling whatever lingering jasmine scent I can find, her fading essence like a warm balm to my aching soul.

But I don’t dare open the door.

That would be inviting too much pain into my heart.

I’m not that strong.

On the contrary.

I’m weak.

So fucking weak.

Hot tears start blurring my vision as I gently tap my forehead on her door, the tiny tinge of pain doing very little to ease my misery.

“Aidan? Is that you?” I hear Emily, Nora and Aidan’s mother, call out from the living room.

Fuck.

I wipe my tears in a hurry and stand up straight, schooling my features to ensure I’m well-composed before heading over to her.

“No, Mrs. Larsen. It’s me. Rowen.”

“Rowen, how… lovely… to see you,” she slurs, gifting me a loving smile from her wheelchair when I enter the room. “I didn’t… know… you… were here,” she adds with a sparkle in her eyes.

“I was just hanging out with Aidan,” I reply with an automatic shrug, sparing her the specifics of why I came over tonight.

With a few hours to kill before picking up my dad from work, the idea of being alone with only my thoughts felt excruciating. Letting her son fuck me into a dull, apathetic coma as a distraction seemed preferable to that alternative.

I doubt she’d appreciate such honesty.

“Well… that’s nice. I’m so glad… you two… have each other… to lean on.” She continues to smile, though the taint of sadness in her green eyes is even more prominent than her sluggish speech.

Ever since Nora’s death last year, her health has been declining at a rapid speed. Her ALS is mercilessly eating her up from the inside, stealing whatever light or life might still dwell inside her.

“You… have no idea… how happy… I am… that I still get to see your face… every once in a while. It’s like… a bit of Nora… is still here… in this house… whenever… I see you.”

I swallow dryly, my heart racing at her words as pangs of guilt and shame stab at my chest. I must go pale because her light expression—so similar to her youngest son—turns concerned.

“I’m… sorry. I shouldn’t… have said that. I didn’t… mean… to make you… feel uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” I lie with a straight face that churns my stomach. “I’m glad that my visits offer you comfort. Truly, I am. I’ll try my best to visit more often… if I can.”

A sincere, grateful grin illuminates her face, making me feel that much shittier.

I’m a fucking monster.

“I… uh… should get going though. My father’s expecting me.”

“Of course. Go. Don’t… let me… keep you… dear. I’m sure… that Hank… wants to spend… as much time… with you… as he can… considering… the season… that’s close… upon us,” she replies, out of breath.

All I can do is smile and nod.

I mean, what can you say in reply to something like that?

She’s right.

Most parents want to spend as much time as possible with their children before the Harvest.

They never know if it will be the last time they will have the privilege of holding them in their arms again.

Or tell them how much they love them… or how proud they are of them.

I still remember how fiercely Emily held onto Nora in those last days…

Yet, it wasn’t The Scourge that took Nora away from her.

It was me.

The girl she’s currently staring at as if she were family.

“Do you need me to get you anything before I leave?” I ask, needing to do something—anything—to appease my guilt.

“No… I’m fine. If I… need anything… I’ll just… ask the… boys to help.”

Feeling uncomfortable with how she continues to gaze lovingly at me, I give her another lukewarm smile and wave goodbye, promising to return and visit her soon.

It’s only when I close the front door behind me and step onto the front porch that I let out the breath I had been holding in during the whole uneasy exchange. I grab onto the porch rail that circles the house, white-knuckling it tightly just to keep my balance. I concentrate on my breathing—to prevent hyperventilating or blacking out—and stare at the open sky above, the twinkling stars taunting me with their untouchable beauty, freedom, and long-lasting life.

Hmm.

I read somewhere that the lifespan of one single dwarf star often lasts up to hundreds of billions of years. They shine with immortal life while we wither away in seconds by comparison.

Nora died weeks before her nineteenth birthday.

And her mother, by the looks of it, is soon to follow in her daughter’s footsteps in her early forties.

We will all be gone while these same uncaring stars will continue to taunt every future generation to come with their immortality. They will witness our very end while remaining untouched and untainted.

They will never know humankind’s cruelty.

They will never know sickness.

They will never know… regret.

“It’s not fair,” I whisper, fisting the rail in my hands as I curse every star looking down at me.

But all my inane animosity for the stars evaporates into thin air when I feel a prickle at the nape of my neck. A low, muffled huff of contempt punctuates the air with familiar disdain, alerting me that I’m not alone on this porch as I had assumed to be.

And when a recognizable sound of a lighter sparks to life, I know exactly who is hiding in the shadows behind me.

Elias Larsen—Nora and Aidan’s older brother.

The one Larsen who doesn’t hold an ounce of love for me in the slightest. Who doesn’t see me as family. Quite the opposite—he’s made it very clear that he hates me with every fiber of his being.

If only he knew how I welcome his hate with open arms, yearning to bask under its tormenting darkness until there is nothing left of me.

Elias’s disdain is one of the few joys—if not the only one—this life still holds for me.

And oh… how I will miss it once I’m gone.