Something to Live For
The dark mint green walls and black curtains let me know I’m in Falcon’s bedroom. I blink the sleep from my eyes, toss the thick puffy comforter off and slide up the bed, resting my back on the wooden headboard. A pale pink silk gown skates up my legs. Vic. Victor Martinez has everything to do with this girly thing that clings to me. I notice Tyler’s teddy lies on the pillow. My heart clenches tight in my chest. Hunter remembered that this little nameless worn brown bear is essential to me.
Bringing my hands up to my face and resting my sticky forehead in my palms, I try to recall what happened and why I’m in Falcon’s bedroom. I remember Hunter. He was shaking me and yelling at me. He was furious. He thought I slept with Max. Max? Max. And then all the memories of the night at Mayhem come to me in a clear collage of many things: getting bit by an asshole. Dancing and trying to catch the sparkling confetti. The asshole was laughing. He was groping me. I bit him. He yelled at me and stormed off. Max. Max wanted to take me home. I didn’t want to go home. We went to his house, and I dance and drank hot coco. And then I…felt him up. Oh, God. He said no, and I fondled him anyway. I watched him shower. We talked about Tyler. I sang to him. I sang my mother’s lullaby. I wanted to count his freckles, but Hunter stopped me. He took me back to his house. He…he spanked me. And then he put his mouth on me. It was phenomenal. He bit me afterwards.
My hand absently touches the healing faint red bite mark in the inside of my thigh. Heat rushes to my face and my chest swells with a strange warmth and pride. “That fucker,” I mumble under my breath. Though I’m angry, I’m aroused too, which is so fucked up and confusing to me.
Hunter, you’re making it difficult to be numb and feel nothing.
My eyes dart to a black duffle bag in a tall cream-colored cushioned chair. My brother’s laptop is tucked beside the bag. Tiptoeing, I lift myself from the bed and snatch up the laptop, sitting back in the middle of the bed.
His laptop is decorated in numerous skulls, music notes, little heart stickers, among various things. Some of them are scribbled on and scratched up. I run my fingers over the stickers and sigh, then open up the lid and power it up. I type in his password: Hero 1996. My brother and I think alike. His password is his first love, his only love, and the year Tyler was born.
A black and white picture if Albert Einstein is his background and it floods my vision as I watch the tiny icons load. I’m looking for something, something that Tyler must have left. We made a blood oath after Mom took her life. We promised we’d never do the same and leave one another stranded and alone. We took that oath very seriously, so there has to be more than my brother being depressed and leaping off The Suicide Bridge. I’m sure from the outside looking in people thought Tyler was just a nervous-emo-weirdo-loner bomb waiting to explode. But they didn’t know the Tyler I knew. They never got to see the remarkable beauty that was him.
A ding and small black window opens in the middle of the screen. I glance at the words at the bottom of the small box that says: GreenFrog is typing…
Tyler’s username is PureIllusion. It’s a children’s book my father used to read us when we were little.
GreenFrog: Hey sweet Isabel.
PureIllusion: Who is this??
GreenFrog: Does it really matter? Listen, I’ve waited so long to freaking talk to you. I have some good news for you.
PureIllusion: Is this a joke? I’m not up for this BS!!!! Leave me the hell ALONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Shaking my head, I click on the small X and exit the chat room, but the little black window pops back up.
GreenFrog: No. This is definitely not a joke or prank of any kind. And that was extremely rude of you, Miss Isabel. For future reference, don’t close the window. It’s useless when I can just make it open back up. I’m only here to help. I will not harass you or anything like that. Anyway, this is some heavy shit I’m about to unload on you and you have no absolute reason to believe me. The only thing I have is my word, which might not mean much to you, but I’m hoping you just keep an open mind.
PureIllusion: Okay…What’s this news about?
An endless minute passes before I see the green words flash on the screen.
GreenFrog: Tyler didn’t jump off The Suicide Bridge. He was murdered. Someone pushed him off.
My eyes squint as I read the three sentences over and over again. Tyler didn’t jump of The Suicide Bridge. He was murdered. Someone pushed him. I’m tempted to exit out the chat room again, but I don’t because hope I can’t afford to lose blooms in my chest. If Tyler didn’t kill himself then someone did and he didn’t renege on his promise. Retrieving the teddy from the pillow, I nuzzle my nose into the soft fur and cotton, overwhelmed with the scent of Hunter. It smells just like him as if he washed it in his pleasant fragrance.
Inhaling deeply, I begin typing.
PureIllusion: Who did then?
GreenFrog: I’m not a hundred percent sure. I have a few suspects in mind, though. I’ve been secretly working this case shortly after Tyler passed. He didn’t leave many clues, but the ones he left are substantial enough to gather information from. I’ll keep you posted when I learn more. In the meantime, do not trust anyone, especially the ones you think you can. Tell no one of me, or else you’ll ruin everything.
Before I can type something, the words GreenFrog has logged off appears at the bottom of the blank window.
After an half hour goes by, I come up with nothing. Zero. Tyler’s emails are all cleared and deleted. His pictures are gone too. It’s like everything has been wiped clean and erased for good. Running a frustrated hand through my hair, I turn off the laptop and close it. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath in through my nose and releasing it out my mouth and into the teddy. A spark of life takes root inside me and it’s growing…
Muffled thuds and erotic sounds are echoing down the hall. Careful to not make any noise, I hop out of bed and place the laptop and Tyler’s bear in the chair with my duffle bag. Inching to the door, I place my hand on the latch and slowly pull it downward. The grunts get louder and whiner. Intrigued, I follow the soft noises to the guest bedroom that’s only two doors away. The wooden door is ajar as I approach it.
“…you’ve been a bad boy, little lamb.”
Pressing my face into the slit of golden glow, my eyes expand and my mouth drops open at the sight before me. Falcon’s hand is fisted tight in Vic’s dark hair while Vic is pushed harshly against the wall by Falcon’s powerful frame. Falcon is fully dressed in dark jeans and an olive-colored cashmere sweater, but Victor is shirtless, his grey pants are pooled around his ankles, and his tanned legs are splayed apart. Victor appears so helpless. His body looks very small and vulnerable against Falcon’s broad, muscled one.
“I’m sorry.” Victor’s voice is airy and breathless.
Falcon roughly jerks Vic’s head in response. “Not good enough. You’re going to have to do way better than that. Or else, I might not let you come at all. And we all know how much of a pleasure whore you are.” Falcon gives Vic another shove. Victor’s face is smashed against the wall. I can hear the air whistling out his lungs. The impact is a brutal one and Vic starts to wheeze. He’s having difficulty breathing.
“Please.” Victor attempts to bring his legs together but Falcon wedges a heavy black boot between them, forcefully preventing it.
He growls, cruelly tugging Vic’s hair. Vic groans and winces. “What did I say, slut? You’re going have to do better. Make me believe you.”
“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. She disappeared from my view. I didn’t…I couldn’t find her. Honey, believe me. I called her phone and looked everywhere in the club. Searching high and low, coming up with nothing. I didn’t mean to fuck up, but I did. I did, and I’m unbelievably sorry. I’ve failed you both.”
At this point, I realize my chest is heaving like the both of theirs and something inside my stomach tightens. Liquid, scorching desire surges through my veins, gathering between my thighs. Falcon is punishing Vic because of me.
Falcon presses his lips to Vic’s ear, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and wrenching Victor’s head backwards, exposing his throat. “I don’t think you’re getting the gist of what I’m saying. I should teach you a lesson. One you won’t forget in a while, huh?”
Victor whimpers and tries to shift away, but Falcon possessively holds him in place, covering almost every inch of Vic’s shivering body with immense strength of his own.
There is nothing gentle or tender about this. It’s pure masculine domination. Falcon never manhandled me like that. I never witnessed male on male action before and, oddly, this is extremely arousing. I’m turned-on; the wetness seeping from my panties is evidence.
Falcon whispers something into Vic’s ear and his free hand reaches down, gripping and fondling Vic between his legs. Vic’s eyes roll to the back of his head and his knees buckle.
My heart beats erratically as my hands lift the lace-trimmed hem of my gown up. The cool silk glides up my heated thighs. My fingers fumble upwards until I touch the damp, achy spot inside my panties.
Victor grunts lowly, thrusting his backside in the air. “Honey, please.”
“You want it, then you’re going to have to work for it. Beg me.” Falcon is still caressing him.
Somewhere between touching myself and watching Falcon touch Vic, my conscience kicks in, and I feel like an awful person for spying on them. I’d be fine if I wasn’t such a pervert.
Removing my hand, I slowly back away from the door with shaky legs and dash back inside Falcon’s bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind me, my chest rising and falling fast.
On the black nightstand, I notice my cell. Picking it up, I send Hunter a text:
Me: I need you. NOW!
Hunter: Be over in ten.