“slight caution on who is reading the story because of the words that have been chosen and many

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The story made by:

Joshver B. Yee 11-TVL css

Amor de Acosador

Wilbur wouldn't hurt her.

he wouldn't.
would he?
the glass cracks in her vice-like grip and shatters into a million and one
pieces that lie on her bed, glittering wickedly up at her as she scowls
back. a few choice shards lie embedded in her palm, carving soft red
rivers in their wake. the bloodstains and mats her hair as she runs her
fingers through it in her frustration.
she doesn't feel pain. god, Niki doesn't feel anything without him and
that scares her beyond belief. she's invincible, yet a smattering of those
cruel words that drip so smoothly off his tongue could make her
crumble in an instant.
ha. as if she isn't crumbling already.
her hands shake slightly as she lights the cigarette and she almost
regrets starting the stupid habit until she remembers she can't think for
herself anymore. so she takes a deep breath and watches the smoke slip
from her lips, twisting into surreal patterns that make her head pound.
and, just the once, she allows herself to think about him.
if words were a weapon, Wilbur soot wielded them like jackknives,
piercing the hearts of every unfortunate soul he came across.
she pitied them; the girls in his music class who were lovesick enough to
believe that they had a place in his lovesongs and the boys and other
folk in English lit, practically falling over each other in the desperate
hope of earning his approval. if he'd asked them to jump off a cliff or
walk in front of a train for him, she wouldn't have doubted for a second
that they would. it was honestly surprised that he hadn't, knowing
Wilbur.
she wished she didn't know wilbur
everything would be better if she didn't.
know.
Wilbur.
but, she mused, it was too late for that now. too late for regret and
sorrow because at the end of the day, she was Wilbur’s and he was hers.
that's just how it is, and always shall be.
it wasn't always like that, though. eons ago, it was just her and toby
against the world with not a care for the harsh gaze of humanity.
freedom was a myth, but Niki could've sworn she had almost felt it when
they were young and blissfully ignorant. then they grew up. and grew apart, with toby content to
stay as to the
outcast and her, hungering for more. power was a disease and Niki had
it terminally, vying desperately for the approval of those who had risen
above to make herself feel less empty. she wasn't proud, but morals
were irrelevant when you were in control.
and in control, she was, when Chris and his blind cult of popularity
decided that she was malleable enough for whatever purpose he saw fit.
for the first few weeks she reveled in the glory of it all; the way the sea
of students would part for her to walk through and how people would
wait on her on bended knee, just for a chance to talk to her. she had
gone from a loner, nothing at all, to one of the most respected members
of the school with stupid brats hanging off her every word. if respect
was fear, that is.
it didn't take long, however, for cracks to begin showing through the
delicate façade that Chris had handcrafted to fool her. at first, it was
hardly noticeable: the occasional moan about his size from Alex or floris
cracking a joke so morbid he had to be joking, right? but soon that
spiraled into hour-long sessions holding Alex’s hair back as he puked his
guts out into the toilet and, when she mentioned her worries to Chris,
lectures on 'beauty is pain' and how Alex was doing the right thing
you stupid bitch.

the worst one was when she found Flores’s empty pill bottle at his
bedside at one of their weekly parties, not far from the shaking form of
her 'friend', holding the brightly colored suicide in his trembling hands.
she stopped him, of course, and comforted him as best as she could; but
she didn't sleep that week. the nightmares, now.
each traumatic tidbit of life was slowly wearing Niki down, gnawing her
to a bloody pulp until she was frantic to possess anything that reminded
her of her long-dead sense of happiness. so it wasn't a surprise
that Wilbur soot picked her.
it had been a rainy Wednesday lunchtime and the weather matched her
mood. she had just paid for the overpriced slop that posed like a school
meal and slid onto a cherry-colored plastic bench that made her skirt
ride up dramatically, much to the delight of the perverts behind her, and
made her face go as red as the table she was on. Niki was thanking the
high heavens that Chris hadn't witnessed her embarrassment, she
could do without his cruel laughter in her current state when a figure
flickered in her peripheral vision.
the first thing she'd noticed was that he was dressed like a character
from her favorite spy noirs when she was a kid; a flowing collared
leather jacket that clung to his body like tar and a thick mop of curled
brown hair that obscured his eyes, leaving only a devious smirk
adorning his face. he reeked of mystery, and Niki’s life had been nothing
short of mundane since Chris took her under his tattered wing.
the second thing she'd noticed was that he was walking her way.
she gulped as he smoothly slid onto the bench, propping one spindly
leg over the other, and leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands so he
could grin down at her. God, he was tall, even sitting down, and Niki was
no pixie.
"so."
"so?" she fumbled. that was the kind of statement that had an end, and
Niki wasn't entirely sure she'd like it.
"so!" he proclaimed, grandeur evident in his tone. "Chris's new
plaything! I don't think we've ever had the pleasure of interacting.
Wilbur, Wilbur soot."
his comments were backhanded but whatever amount it bruised her
pride didn't stop it from being the truth. so she swallowed down her
snide replies and grasped his outstretched hand tentatively to shake.
the curious expression his face took on suggested she had surpassed his
expectations somehow, a concept that made her smile.
"I’ll admit, you're not quite what I expected."
"What did you expect, hm?" she asked sweetly, one eyebrow cocked.
she was getting more confident by the second.
he smiled again, pleasantly surprised.
"more Chris, less... brains. his lackeys aren't usually too skilled at
thinking for themselves."
she felt strangely hurt by this, perhaps seeing the bruised and broken
insides of some of the 'lackeys' makes you dumb to reason, but she
quickly recovered. she shouldn't care about them. getting attached is
such a dangerous thing. it's a pity she's so bad at listening to her own
advice.
"should I feel complimented?"
"I don't know, should you?" he leaned back, crossing his arms in
contemplation. "I like you. didn't want to, but I do. and I don't like a
a great many people. there, do you feel complimented yet?"
despite herself, Niki felt her cheeks warm at the unexpected softness in
his voice. it was bassy and tuneful, like a cello, and she wanted to bottle
it to slather on herself whenever she felt alone.
"hello-o. earth to a cute girl?" he sang, snapping his fingers languidly to
shatter her daze. she could practically feel the smirk radiating off him as
she attempted to hide her pink cheeks in her hands. "I’m getting
slushies after school, I’m sure it wouldn't inconvenience me too much to
let you tag along. if you want to, of course."
for the first time in their conversation, Wilbur seemed vulnerable. like he
was scared she'd say no.
as if.
"if you're sure it's not a bother? then I’d love nothing more." she
watched his face light up, displaying two perfect dimples proudly
cresting his one hundred-watt smile. Wilbur soot didn't love in
halves. "if it's not too personal, what flavor slushie is your favorite?"
"Gosh, isn't it a bit early for that? you haven't even taken me on a date
yet!" he laughed as she once again hid her face in embarrassment. "i'm
kidding, sweetheart. it's blue raspberry."
"obviously?"
"don't tell me you enjoy the dumpster fire that is strawberry, do
you?" he lamented, grasping his heart in faux horror as she nodded.
"that's it. I take back every nice thing I’ve said about you. I hope you rot
in hell, where you belong."
with the air of a sulking teenage girl, he stood up dramatically and
flounced away from the table, throwing dirty looks back at her that
made her giggle until she couldn't breathe.
"wait!" she choked, gasping for air. "I’ll meet you at the ball court,
okay?"
"Okay." he smiled gently back at her and Niki could physically feel herself
falling. hard.
"it's Niki, by the way."
"Niki? Niki, Niki, Niki." he rolled the name around in his mouth like a
boiled sweet, testing how it sounded. "I like it. suits you. I’ll see you
around, Niki."
"see you!"
and from then on, she'd belonged to him. trapped under his thumb as
the perfect girlfriend. and it was perfect, for a while. more than that; it
was the happiest she'd ever been. the idea that Wilbur soot used to
make her happy made her sick to her stomach and she coughed mid-
the drag of the cigarette, disgusted by how gullible she had been. how
fucking stupid, to let someone have all of her heart for nothing in return.
that wasn't true. she'd thought she had his in exchange, or maybe she
was so desperate to believe it that she convinced herself that he had.
but she'd learned the hard way that Wilbur soot didn't have a heart. he
didn't know how to love someone. he was just a damn good actor and
she was simply too easy to fool.
but his acting wasn't flawless. perhaps the act was too difficult to keep
up, or simply too boring. maybe he'd grown tired of toying with her
heartstrings, upset that it didn't give him the same kick as it used to.
so he killed Chris.
she'd thought he was joking about putting bleach in the asshole's tea. it
was common knowledge that Wilbur hated Chris deeply, but she didn't
thinks he'd go through with it.
Niki laughed, bitterly. She’d believe anything that Wilbur told her.
anything at all.
deep down she'd known, when she'd handed the mug to her greatest
enemy who looked straight out of a renaissance painting, brown hair
mussed around his head like an angel's halo. symbolism.
she'd known as he brought the mug to his lips, perfect features creased
into a look of disgust as he took a sip. she'd known as he'd scrabbled
desperately at his throat, gasping for a slither of air as his lungs slowly
suffocated him. she'd known, when he fell forward into the coffee table,
glass shards scattered around the red blush carpet in a perfect
reenactment of the current state of her room.
she'd know. and she'd done nothing. so, in a way, she killed Chris,
didn't she? that's what Wilbur had told her, and Wilbur was always right.
so when he told her they were going to embarrass dave and Alastair, the
school jocks, she'd believed him. even when she saw how familiar he
was with the 'fake' gun in his palm. how perfectly it fitted there. as if it
were an extension of his own body.
they'd driven to a small, secluded forest where she'd texted them to
meet to 'study. and when the dumbasses arrived, Wilbur had shot them
both in the heart.
the bullets were supposed to be fake. he promised they were fake.
but promises from Wilbur were a bit like her head. fucking empty. so, if
you were counting, that was three dead. basically by her own hands.
and now he was coming for her.
she sighed and tapped the ashes on the end of her tab so they scattered
to the floor. would she be cremated? would he spin some stupid yarn
about her life as he did for the others, make her parents resent her
even more than they already did? she supposed it wouldn't matter by
then. she'd be long gone.
would she go to hell? no, no, she was already in hell, living it every day.
maybe Wilbur was doing her a service.
she wasn't scared. she wasn't anything at all as the window to her room
swung open, shadows twisting to form her worst nightmare as it
staggered in.
"sorry, I’m late darling! the weather was awful."
It was Nikita. and damn it, she wasn't going down without a fight.