Marked By The Devil's Heir

CHAPTER FOUR

MALAKAI

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The whole week has been so draining.

The best part about weekends for me isn't just about not going to school but also the fact that my parents aren't around. They have to attend several church programs. Their absence is a symbol of peace and freedom.

This time around, I am ecstatic that I won't have to see that lunatic.

Every time I close my eyes, I still feel his hand around my throat. Around my-

I shake my head violently. Stop thinking about it.

A knock sounds on my door. I look up to see my brother. He enters my room, and I can't help but notice his flashy attire. Ripped jeans, a chain around his neck, dark eyeliner smudged beneath his eyes. He looks like a completely different person from the boy who used to follow me around as a kid.

"You didn't come to school today," I say.

Ezra's expression hardens instantly. "Why? Are you going to report to Dad?" He leans against my doorframe, arms crossed, jaw tight. "Not everyone can be a great son like you. Perfect attendance, top of the class. I can't even compete with you." His voice drips with sarcasm. "You're so annoying, you know that?"

How long has he been waiting to say these words to me?

I can't even blame him. Our father is the root cause. Every comparison, every beating Ezra took while I stood in the corner, every time Dad held me up as the golden standard. The wedge between us has been growing for years.

Skipping school isn't just the problem. I'm more concerned about the friends he's been hanging around with lately. They smoke and drink. I've heard rumors about worse things. I'm afraid of Ezra being influenced. He's just sixteen. He doesn't believe it, but I do care about him.

"Don't blame me for last time," I say. "I didn't snitch to anyone. It isn't my fault that you left your business carelessly for Dad to see."

"Are you telling me that you're just better at not being caught?" Ezra pushes off the doorframe and takes a step into my room. His eyes narrow, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. "It makes me wonder the sort of things you do..."

I grow uncomfortable under Ezra's sudden interested stare. He's looking at me like he's trying to crack open my skull and peer inside.

"You don't look like you have a single bad bone in you." He takes another step closer. "You don't have a girlfriend either because I've never seen you even look in any girl's direction." His head tilts. "So what secret are you hiding, big brother?"

My laptop suddenly feels like a ticking bomb on my desk. My collection. My photos. My stolen treasures.

"I don't hide things." My voice comes out too defensive. Too quick. "If you're done, then get out of my room!"

My heart is starting to race. I don't like being so carefully observed like this. Ezra has always been perceptive, even as a kid. He notices things.

"Seeing how skittish you are..." A slow smile spreads across his face. "Are you really hiding something?" He pauses, letting the silence stretch. "Can it be that you like boys instead? Are you gay?"

"What?!" I scream.

Why would he even ask that?

Pierce's face flashes in my mind. His hand grabbing me in that shower. The way my body had-

No. No.

"You're not even denying it." Ezra's smile widens.

"Hell no! I like girls! Why the hell would I be gay?" I flare defensively and start to push him towards the door. "Now get out!"

"Why did you get so aggressive?" He laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Anyway, I'm just here to tell you that I'll be attending John's party tonight. Remember to lock the doors after me, and if our parents call, just tell them that I fell asleep."

He starts to leave, but I stop him.

"Why are you hanging out with those junkies again? They're violent and always in trouble with the police. Sooner or later, you'll get in trouble because of them!"

"I know my way around." He shrugs, already half out the door. "And unlike you, I actually have a social life."

I stare at him, dumbfounded. I know I'm not a saint myself, but Ezra is still a kid! He shouldn't be running with people like that.

He leaves the room, and I sigh frustratedly. If I try to stop him, he'll only get more stubborn. How do I even approach this issue?

Or maybe I'm overreacting?

I'm still a virgin at eighteen, and it gets embarrassing sometimes, especially when the boys share their experiences in the locker room. I always feel left out, sitting silently while they brag about conquests. I'm saving myself for Lana. She's the only one I want to be with.

I jump on my bed and land on my stomach.

"Fuck!" I hiss at the sore sensation in my groin region.

That lunatic had nearly broken me down there. How am I supposed to start a family with Lana if things stop working?

My hand slips beneath my waistband to check. It's still painful. Bruised.

Is it even still working? Maybe I should find out. At least just to be safe.

I ignore the soreness and try to get myself going.

It's taking a while, but I still don't feel anything.

My lips tighten in deeper concentration.

Come on. Come on.

That bastard's face is all I can see.

'How are you going to impress Lana with this...' His taunts replay loudly in my head.

Shut up!

'Or does it get bigger when you're aroused? But still... It's not enough for you to use on anyone.'

His mocking voice won't even let my body cooperate.

Or is it damaged? I stare down at myself in dismay.

No. I just need something to stimulate me and get rid of Pierce's voice in my head.

I wiggle to the side of my bed and open my drawer to pull out my newest treasure.

Lana's handkerchief.

I press it hard against my nose and inhale deeply. The fragrance of her perfume still lingers, soft and floral. I try again and imagine it's Lana's touch instead. Her soft, delicate fingers. Her sweet voice whispering my name.

I close my eyes.

But it isn't Lana's face that comes to mind.

All I can see is Pierce. Pierce. And fucking Pierce.

His dark eyes boring into mine. His hot breath on my face. His grip on me in that shower. The way he'd leaned so close our noses almost touched. The way I'd felt him hard against my thigh.

'Good boy...'

"Holy shit!" The curse slips from my mouth.

My body is reacting now.

And it's because of Pierce?

No way.

My brain and body are certainly malfunctioning. Why would thinking about Pierce ever do this to me? I'm not gay. And even if I were, I deeply despise Pierce. He's a monster. A psychopath. He humiliated me. He hurt me.

So why is my body responding to the memory?

I feel sick.

I snatch my laptop open. A picture of Lana is all I need. She'll fix this. She'll remind me of what I really want.

I open my secret gallery.

And freeze.

Panic and shock zip through my whole body like lightning.

Nothing.

The folder is empty.

It's all gone. All of Lana's pictures. Every image I'd painstakingly saved and organized.

Gone.

I sit up in disbelief, my heart hammering against my ribs. How did this happen? This laptop can only be accessed by me. There's no way I deleted it without knowing.

Is there some kind of error? A glitch? I click through folder after folder, searching desperately.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

It's like they never existed.

I'm still in a confused mess when my phone vibrates, startling me so badly I nearly drop it.

It's a message. I don't recognize the number.

My fingers tremble as I click on it.

It's a picture.

A picture of Lana.

The most recent one that I'd taken. The one where she's laughing at something, her hair catching the sunlight. I remember taking it just last week, hiding behind the bleachers.

How?

How does someone have this?

My whole body goes cold as I read the single word beneath the image. A word that ripples my whole body with ice-cold panic.

'PERVERT'

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