Flesh and Blood, Sian Rosé [most difficult books to read TXT] 📗

their existence as a wretched, butt-kissing slave to the government?

He’d settle for bleeding out if he ever took a bullet to the wrong artery, over a damned life of bending over for society to fuck him in the arse with a condom made of sandpaper.

“Joe!” he called again, breathing out as he approached the circular gathering of thick trees. It was really rather beautiful, actually, aside from the crap, dried-out grass. He wondered for a moment if his little brother was simply trying to romance Sambuca. Perhaps he’d learned a thing or two from him and was schmoozing the girl. God knows Lloyd could do with getting laid. Zach knew this all too well from spending the last few years often sharing bedrooms with him and regularly drifting off to the sound of his furious masturbation… yes, perhaps Lloyd was merely reciting romantic poetry or carrying out some grand gesture of affection.

But then, Zach knew Lloyd.

“Joe…” Zach shouted again as he pulled aside some low, dangling leaves hanging from branches and lowered himself underneath the greenery. When he got back to his feet, the sight that awaited him in the clearing guarded by trees smacked him straight in the face with a wave of annoyance.

“For fuck’s sake!” snapped Zach, rubbing his temple as he continued moving forwards. “Lloyd, what the fuck?”

Lloyd’s fat, stubby head snapped upwards, his piggy eyes bulging from his face. His thin lips wobbled momentarily, then opened up into a gape of shock. His trousers were down, exposing his fat, stretch-mark stained thighs, and hairy arse. Sambuca lay face down on the grass, her face streaked with black tear stains, her bloodshot eyes staring pleadingly at Zach. Her awful skirt had been hiked up, revealing a holey pair of knickers.

“What the fuck?!” Zach repeated, louder this time, moving forwards quickly, his brow furrowing in dismay. “What the fuck, Lloyd?!”

The teenager scrambled to pull up his trousers, his cheeks flushed red, and his head bowed with shame. Fearfully, Sambuca stared around, then clumsily crawled to her knees. Whimpering, she staggered to her feet, fresh tears leaking from her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Zach,” Lloyd moaned, “I know I fucked up.”

“You’re damn right you fucked up!” retorted Zach, eyes glittering furiously. “Dad is going to flip his shit…” he stopped and glanced at Sambuca, who was static, her knees wobbling as she chewed the skin around her thumb. She breathed loudly, evidently relieved to be saved.

“She might look like a tramp,” said Zach, “but her father will probably skin you alive if he finds out you tried this shit.”

“N-n-n-no….” sobbed Sambuca, swallowing and snivelling. A grotesque trail of snot slid down from her nose, congealing on her upper lip. “I w-w-won’t say a w-w-w-word…”

Zach sighed sadly, then looked up at Sambuca apologetically.

“Sambuca… Sam, may I call you that? It’s just that the name Sambuca really is the second most embarrassing thing about you, first being the fact you look like a fucking crack whore.”

Sambuca’s face fell, then twisted as the realisation dawned on her. Zach savoured the way the hope vanished from her eyes. It was a delicious feeling. The brief few seconds when a person realised that they were completely and utterly fucked.

“Sam, I’m sorry. I apologise for the fact my brother can’t keep his dick in his pants,” said Zach solemnly. “We weren’t going to kill you or your mate,” he paused to take another sigh and rubbed his forehead.

“But thanks to this guy’s epic fuck-up!” he shot Lloyd an accusing stare, “well…” he gave her a sad smile, “we haven’t got a choice.”

The girl squeaked, then suddenly took off running, her skinny legs nimble as they worked quickly to get away. The two brothers exchanged looks. In just a few wide steps, Zach was at the girl’s heels, dragging her backwards by her hair just as she approached the edge of the clearing. Loud, rasping screams projected from the back of her throat, the sound of it bouncing all around the small forest space as she thrashed wildly.

Ignoring her squeals and convulsions, Zach wrapped an arm around her neck and pulled her closer to him in a tight headlock. One-handed, he pinned her to him, and with the other, delved into his coat pocket and withdrew his phone, which he then tossed over to Lloyd.

“Text Flo,” Zach instructed, his nostrils involuntarily wrinkling at the stench of Sambuca’s cheap perfume. “Get her to bring Destiny up here.”

*

Stella could feel her own eyelids start to droop as she finally heard the low rumble of Neil’s breath descend into sleep. She straightened up, her thighs tensing either side of his spotty back where she had straddled him like a mechanical bull. She had to bite down on the inside of her mouth to stifle a chuckle because she knew just how ludicrous she must look, perched there on this grimy couch upon his sweaty love handles.

The girl leaned forwards slightly, tucking her long blonde curtain of hair behind her ear as she paused to listen.

“Neil?” she whispered, softly pressing her forefinger into one of his shoulder blades.

He was still.

With a satisfied smile, Stella slowly got up. Her mother had taught her many, many things over the years, but she was by far the most grateful for everything she’d learned about the human body. Pressure points. The way bones worked; simple yet effective ways that the world’s most intelligent, powerful machine could be manipulated.

Knocked or snuffed out, just like that.

Just like poor Neil.

“Right,” she muttered to herself, glancing searchingly around the murky interior of the room. “Right…” she left the narrow space of the living room and went down a tiny hallway. Her nose wrinkled as she walked, nostrils disturbed by the musty stench of unwashed socks and stale smoke that congealed in the air. The lighting seemed to grow dimmer the further she walked, so she blinked and strained them as she came to the end of the tiny passage to a thin, slightly-ajar door.

Gently, she reached out a hand and