??BAD BOYS
DON’T HAVE
HEARTS??
《 Monsters aren’t born, they’re Made 》
•••
[# SEASON ONE
•••
By, ✿ฺ Author Indigo Raine ✿ฺ
•••
©Copyright 2023 [?? ℕ?? ℂ?ℙ? ?ℝ ℝ?ℙ???]
•••
Genre(s): Dark Romance, Forbidden, Mafia.
•••
Theme: Sometimes water is better than blood.
•••
[# Chapter Nineteen //unedited//
••
••
????? ???? ?????…
Yulia glared back at her reflection, specifically the blemished skin of her cheek. Even now, it was still warm with a slight burning sensation that seemed to throb. Her father didn’t even do anything–which she isn’t surprised about–, he’s always been indifferent towards her, because she is a female and not a male. She has three older brothers who are army generals, they’ve been internationally praised in the media for their services. But her on the other hand is a B-list Model–her choice of career certainly did not not please her father but he didn’t care. He never cared, and that’s why her hatred for him has grown deep sturdy roots in her chest.
However, the best decision he made was to arrange a marriage between her and that striking guy. Everything about him intrigued her to the fullest; from his greasy hair, to his soft features outlined by chiseled lines, to his abs that seemed to show in anything he wears, to the bulge in his pants. Just thinking about him had her swooning like crazy! Her friends would die of envy if a hottie like that was standing at the alter waiting for her to get there.
“I think I’m in love with him,” she taped down a picture someone took of him and printed out for her to have on her dresser mirror. It was one of many; she possessed an album of his pictures. “I want him so bad, but there seems to be a little problem I’ll have to take care of,” Yulia thought of the female who slapped her. How rude of her!
“Stepsister? Who are they trying to fool? I saw the way she looked at him, the blazing affection was conspicuous in her eyes. She has a thing for her own brother, disgusting–but he’s unfortunately mine. And when something’s mine, I’ll annihilate anything or anyone that tries to get between it and I,” Yulia removed her black wig to reveal short curly hair. “Whether by m*rder, or by t*rture.”
She applied lipstick in the mirror then lathered Ryat’s picture in red lipstick kisses, she even rested against the glass pretending it was he who she was holding. Eventually she entered the ensuite to wash her body and to do no more than fantasize her wedding with the man of her dreams.
····
The leafy branches of the tall trees swayed in the wind that whooshed against it. A few green leaves got lost in the air and flew all the way to the ground, one landed on the shoulder of Carnage. He brushed the disrespectful leave off and continued looking at the view from where he was perched on his bike with both legs on either side of the grassy ground. His hands covered in black leather fingerless gloves were on the bike’s cold handles, the gloves matched his black leather jacket and boots. A cross swung from his neck, it was diamond studded just like the Gucci belt buckle that ran through the hoops on his pants.
Today had been a hectic day. He trusted his father and thought things were different, that he’d finally be able to know what fatherly love feels like, but he was wrong. That man will never change, and as a result, Ryat is giving up on him. The cool wind blew and slashed his face, he sighed deeply.
“Grandad…” nights like these reminded him of the ones he used to spend with his mother’s father. On nights like this–cool, windy, pitch black–they’d sit exactly where his bike was parked and talk about life and many things. That man taught Ryat many things; how to $h00t, how to fight, how to be ruthless, how to be savage, how to spot fake people, and most importantly, how to not put his trust into people but in his g*n.
“We all make mistakes but to trust is the biggest,” he said, looking up at the cloudy sky. “I hope you’re watching me, Grandad, and I hope you’re proud of me. I…h@ťě to admit it, but I miss you.”
That brought him back to terrible memories. Ryat had grown up very attached to his Grandad and visited him every chance he got. He aspired to be like the man–who was antisocial, terrorized everyone around him, and intimidated people with his mere existence–he was his idol. And then, on a cold rainy night his life was taken right before his eyes. They were coming back from a local bakery after buying Red Velvet cake, they were walking home with black umbrellas while they wore long leather coats…and then it happened. The images of that night flashed before his eyes. His Granddad sacrificed himself for him, and was brutally, mercilessly, and savagely stabbed to death while he watched from behind a trash can.
After the attackers robbed him and left, Ryat came to the scene and met blood; so much blood. The liquid was all over his Grandad’s body, the ground mixing with dirty rainwater, and on his hands–he felt sick to his stomach. It was his first time seeing the liquid–red had always been his favorite color, just like his mom’s, but he was left scarred and traumatized by what he’d witnessed that night. The scene forever carved into the back of his mind. Ever since then, he’d preferred the color pink to the depressing shade of red that only brought back heartbreaking memories and triggered him. His mother had died wearing a beautiful red dress, too. People may tease him for liking such a color, especially since he’s a guy, but nobody knows him truly and nobody’s knows his past.
He sighed into the frosty air, his breath coming out in a cloud of white mist. He picked up his helmet from off the ground and slipped his head inside, he was strapping it on when he felt an eerie presence. Ryat turned his head around to see what was behind him, lo and behold, his bratty sister who thought his Ďïčk was a snake.
“What are you doing here? Little girls like you should be asleep already,” he sat up straight, one hand on the bike’s handle and one on his thigh.
“I’m not a little girl!” she whined.
“You’re wh@ťěver the f-__-k I say you are.”
“You’re such a big b*lly.”
“Thanks, I’m flattered.”
“Ryat.”
“What do you want? Can’t you see I’m getting the f-__-k outta here because these people gotta be on crack cocaine or some $h|t to believe that I’m actually participating in this horse$h|t,” he turned the key in the bike to get it started then turned the lights on, it shone into the see of twinkling lights in the far distance. “I’m leaving, and this time I’m not coming back. f-__-k this.”
Meira lowered her head sadly. “You won’t come back? Do you mean it?”
“Ain’t no reason why I should. Mom d**d and left over two hundred million dollars in my name which I’ll be able to access when I’m twenty, for now I’m working and I’ve got my own crib thanks to some of my prison links. There’s nothing here for me, Meira, I don’t even belong here,” he placed both hands on the handles. “I’m gonna dip.”
“Can you please take me with you? I’ve never been on a motorcycle before!” Meira didn’t want him to leave, the thought of not having him around was terrifying to her. He made her feel safe, even if he is a mean @zzh0le. Her attachment to her brother was growing stronger as they spoke. “Please? You can drop me off downtown and I’ll call mom to pick me up.”
“I’m not taking your a** anywhere you’re annoyingly unbearable to be around,” he looked her up and down in consideration. She was wearing red joggers and a white cropped hoodie with white sneakers. He suddenly paused and looked closer at her, “Wait a minute, did you purposely dress up and came out here just for me to take you out?”
“What? Who? Me? I don’t even know how I got in these I swear!”
Ryat face-palmed his helmet. Where did they find this girl? No, seriously.
“Fine, get on,” he scooted up a little so she could hold on the bike behind him, before she hopped on he took off his helmet and all his safety gear and gave them to her to wear. “Put ’em on.”
“…I don’t know how. Can you help?” she held up the things and awkwardly smiled.
“I have never wanted the government to legalize m*rder so bad,” he groaned and shut the bike off, he came to Meira and strapped everything on then put the helmet over her head. She’d have to carry her glasses in her hand.
“You wouldn’t k!ll me even if you were being paid to!”
“I don’t need money to k!ll someone, I do it for the thrill, sweetheart,” he knocked on her helmet then walked off. “Now get on, wanna spin back before midnight.”
····
?????????, ?? ?? ????????? ????????…
Kent’s wrists were tied together, he was hung by a hook from the ceiling. His mouth filled with $h|t before the boys in the area taped it shut. Tears were falling from his eyes, they didn’t look like the loansharks that usually come to pester Katniss. So who were they then?
The crowd in the dimly lit abandoned concrete room with paint peeling off the walls, a boy with curly hair and deep-blue eyes walked out with an expression that would make Lucifer pee himself. The others boys in the room were slowly backing away from him, fearful of his unpredictableness.
He walked to Kent and stopped a few feet away, his eyes slicing through his. “What lowlife makes their daughter work her a** off to a debt they had to pay? Oh, that’s right, it’s you,” his foot connected to Kent’s crotch and he folded in pain. “You make me sick. I can hardly resist the urge to vomit as I look at you right now. Bandit, bring the chain to me.”
Bandit came from the entrance, a long chain hanging from his neck. He went to Korpse and handed him the chain the stepped way back like the rest of the people did–no one wanted to be caught in something like that.
“I’m gonna make you pay for ever f-__-king hurting her or her siblings,” by the last word he has around spun the chain and slapped Kent with it. The man’s eyes bulged beyond humanly possible and wriggled like a worm on a hook–which he very much resembled. “Ricco, soak him.”
One of the males emerged with a bucket of water and splashed it all over the man. Immediately–too fast to even predict–Korpse began unleashing absolute hell on the man by whipping him over and over again with the chain. Every time he tried screaming in pain his throat would open this making him swallow feces. He tried escaping, swinging his body on the hook, doing wh@ťěver he can to evade those wicked hits but Korpse was ruthless. After he beat Kent with the chains he dropped them, they were now soaked in his blood. He snapped and another male came out to hand him a machete that was sharpened on both sides.
“Pass me the salt and pepper,” Korpse instructed.
After it being handed to him he poured the two bottles all over Kent which had him moving more violently than ever before. He tossed the empty bottles aside the used the machete to beat him, then chop his skin as if he were chopping pig meat up. The fellow youths in the room with him had witnessed something similar to the countless times and therefore did not have any problems.
By, the room was mostly covered in blood. Kent was no longer moving about, but it didn’t make Korpse stop beating and chopping his body up. The man’s severed arm even fell off, his left leg barely able to hang onto the pieces of flesh it was connected to. Finally, Korpse dropped the machete but he still felt insane bloodlust–in that moment he could k!ll an entire army. Never before in his life had he felt this much anger and hatred towards a human being. He thought of what more to do to the man, then took out a butterfly knife to remove both eyeballs. He slit his stomach open then stuffed it inside, he made Bandit bring him some duck tape and removed the man’s insides then bags of sh!t inside–now he was literally full of sh!t–then taped it shut.
Korpse flashed the blood off his hands, feeling a tiny bit better at the result. “Is the cross ready?”
“Yeah,” Bandit affirmed.
“Let’s go crucify this motherf-__-ker,” he left the scene with the man’s stomach and intestine still on the ground and bl**d running through the dirt.
The guys brought the man out and helped Korpse nail him to a cross then help make it stand. Once it was up, they all laughed and pissed at the foot of the cross. They also poured gasoline all over it, and then, standing from a distance, Korpse stared h@ťěfully at Kent’s lifeless body once more then dropped a flaming lighter. It instantly lit a trail ablaze then made the cross blow up in vivacious flames the could be spotted from miles away.
Revenge was served, and rightfully so.
····
?? ??? ???????? ?????? ???????…
The place was empty except for a lone officer sitting behind the counter. She had her feet up, reading again a magazine while she drank coffee.
The door swung open and she looked up at who walked in. It was young man with a cast on his recently broken arm, bandaged head and eye, two missing fingers and from the other side of the counter you could see one leg was mostly in a cast while the other had its foot casted. She knew him, that was Chris Bailey, a star football player. He did look a lot slimmer though, with dark circles forming around his sunken eyes and his features more prominent that usual.
He definitely didn’t look like his old self.
“What in the name of Dunkin Donuts happened to you?” she dropped her feet and closed the magazine. “You look absolutely terrible. Are you the same Christopher everyone has been crushing over?”
“I don’t have time for this. I came and reported that Hell City Bar was a hangout for gangsters and they often traded drugs and counterfeit goods there. Why hasn’t anything been seized yet?” he asked angrily, but his voice was weak, he sounded as if he was squeaking.
“Well, ya see son, some big shot gangsta just got in town. That’s where he often sells his stuff, he paid off every cop here to not shut the place down or investigate and everybody agreed,” she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.
“You what!?” Chris couldn’t believe his ears.
“It is what it is. Imagine being paid two hundred thousands to mind your own business? Who wouldn’t accept that offer,” she laughed.
“You people here are useless!” he was infuriated. “You need to remove those bastards from this town! Look at what they did to me! They’ve ruined me! I can no longer play football! Look, I have another tip. These five make and transport drugs at a meat shop downtown–”
“Hears some words of advice,” she interrupted him and leaned over. “Shut up. Start minding your f-__-king business. Do you realize where we are? This is Arkville, the most dangerous place on earth second to Falkon City. The gangstas here don’t play. If you keep doing this $h|t we both will get into trouble. Leave the Bloodlust B*st*rds alone, stay out of their way, everyone has been doing that and live in harmony. Try to follow in their footsteps Christopher, or the next time I see you I’ll be scraping your decomposed mangled corpse out of a forest. Focus on living a long happy life. Now get outta here my shift’s over.”
He had to turn and head back to his Ferrari in a state of bewilderment–it seems everyone is afraid of the Heartless Boys, but Chris refuses to give up. He’ll make the pay for what they’d done to him.
That night, he vowed to get rid of the Bloodlust B*st*rds–permanently.
✰
✰
✰
✰
✰
?? ?? ?????????….
Vawulence everywhere ☠️