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Chelsie doesn’t come home that night.
Mom and Dad are frantic as they call the police.
The cops come and ask us questions.
They question me as if I had something to do with her fucking disappearance.
One week later, a jogger stumbles across a chopped up little girl’s body in a plastic bag by the river.
It’s her.
I snarl as I yank open the door to the locker room, stomping inside. Rage pops and sparks behind my forehead, jabbing at my skull. The throbbing pain that’s blazing the inside of my head up with electricity feels similar to when I had a concussion sophomore year. I kept re-injuring myself on accident, turning my head too quickly, or sinking into my pillow too quickly at night which would make me dizzy as fuck. It was a miracle that it healed and I was able to get back onto the field.
Brock shoots me a look. "Tell us if you need a Gatorade."
That’s all I drink now to replenish my electrolytes. No chocolate milk.That reminds me too much of the day my sister vanished.
"If I want a fucking Gatorade, I’ll ask Jacko." I rip my jersey off, then throw my pads on the locker room floor.
Jacko scampers to my side, picking up my gear to hang it in my locker. I kick him out of the way, then roar as I punch a wall.
A hole forms with a crack.
Rook slams his meaty palm on my shoulder. "It’s the anniversary of her disappearance, isn’t it?"
My voice drips with sarcasm. "No. I’m just on my period."
This is too fucking difficult to talk about with my friends. They were there for me after Chelsie’s body was found. They got drunk with me, went on bike rides through the country with me, and brought me girls I could fuck to distract myself. A lot of the girls I had sex with back then hated me afterwards, and said I was too rough with them and didn’t listen when they told me to stop. I couldn’t stop. My sister’s disappearance made me unable to care about anything outside of myself. All I could do was fuck. Slide my dick in a bitch and chase my nut.
I march to the showers, anger fuming inside of me. My teammates know better than to fuck with me right now, so I get the entire shower to myself. Steam rises up around me, surrounding me like I’m a God. Lightning bolts threaten to burst out of my fingertips and light the entire locker room up in flames.
Who took her?
Why haven’t we been able to find out what happened?
How come there was no DNA on her body?
The facts of the case were brutal. Chelsie had been raped ten times, stabbed thirty times, and her attacker slit her throat and then fucked that, too. It wasn’t a simple case of an abduction gone wrong. When I heard what my baby sister went through, I vomited for ten hours straight until I passed out. I woke up, stumbled to the bathroom, then passed out again, cracking the bathroom mirror with my skull.
Late at night, dreams of her death charge through my mind like a herd of feral buffalo. I hear her screams, see her flailing limbs, and picture her trying to ward off her fate. I want to protect her, but there’s nothing I can do. I can’t see who’s hurting her. I can’t rip their body off her.
Brock and Rook join me in the showers. "We’re here for you, Colt."
Darkness.
Death.
Destruction.
These three unforgivable sins churn inside me, refusing to relinquish their grip on me.
My cock hardens as I think of my slut in the fifty-million-dollar penthouse my father rented for her so I can use her to get my rocks off whenever I please.
She’s the only one who can distract me.
Olivia
My soul is black today.
