Apt Pupil 2
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Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
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1,347
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Category:
1 through F › Apt Pupil
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
Views:
1,347
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Apt Pupil or any of the characters associated with it. They belong to Stephen King and Brian Singer. No money was made from this wiriting.
Chapter 15
“That fucking bitch said what?” Red faced, Todd’s fists clenched, ready to punch through a wall, or, better yet, Pam’s big-fat mouth. That thought, the thought of Pam’s mouth bleeding, a tooth loosened from its socket, is almost enough to bring the shadow of a smile to his lips. “I’m going to fucking kill her.”
Rick Mathers ran a hand through his shaggy hair. He outweighed Todd by a good hundred pounds, but that knowledge didn’t keep his hands from shaking. The man was scary when he was pissed and Rick didn’t want that anger directed at him; no way, no how, “She said you were one of those fagolas. Man, we told her she was stoned or something. No one’s taking her seriously and Theo said that he’s going to give her a scare that she’ll never forget.”
“Theo’s an asshole.” The hands, knuckles white, clenched impossibly tighter. The scabs on his palms broke, the blood pushing up under his nails. Later, he’ll look at these, disgusted. Now, the pain was a calming sensation, a way to focus on something other than Pamela’s screaming strawberry red slut mouth. “He couldn’t scare a stupid cockroach. I’ll handle Pam.”
Something about the way that he said it brought shivers up Rick’s spine. The room was comfortably warm, but Rick was suddenly very, very cold.
XXX
He waited outside her parent’s home. The window on the second floor was hers; he could almost see her there. He could almost see the Cinderella light fixture, her fluffy pink drapes, even the snow globe on her dresser (a gift from her father when she graduated kindergarten). Pamela was in there. Yeah, a slut like her probably never left her bed unless her parents were home. In fact, Todd was pretty sure that some guy was giving it to her right now. There was no car in the driveway, but anyone could park around the block, or take the bus, much as Todd did himself.
He stared up at her window, looking for lights and finding none. Slowly he walked back to the bus stop, two pairs of pants rubbing against one another (and with one of those pairs being corduroy it was driving him bug shit). The knife he had swiped from the main cafeteria fit snuggly between his waistbands.
Above the street, unaware of her ex-boyfriend’s activities, Pamela slept. Her parents were gone for dinner; her head was pounding too violently to join them. She dreamt of Todd. Todd, with a dark face and a butcher knife, was chasing her through unnamed streets. She woke once, a thin blanket of sweat covering her body, a shallow pool also between her breasts and clinging to her flimsy nightgown. One glance at the alarm clock told her that there wasn’t much point in getting out of bed, so she fell back to sleep. There were no more dreams. By the time she woke up, seven-thirty-ish the next morning, any bad dreams were forgotten completely.
Rick Mathers ran a hand through his shaggy hair. He outweighed Todd by a good hundred pounds, but that knowledge didn’t keep his hands from shaking. The man was scary when he was pissed and Rick didn’t want that anger directed at him; no way, no how, “She said you were one of those fagolas. Man, we told her she was stoned or something. No one’s taking her seriously and Theo said that he’s going to give her a scare that she’ll never forget.”
“Theo’s an asshole.” The hands, knuckles white, clenched impossibly tighter. The scabs on his palms broke, the blood pushing up under his nails. Later, he’ll look at these, disgusted. Now, the pain was a calming sensation, a way to focus on something other than Pamela’s screaming strawberry red slut mouth. “He couldn’t scare a stupid cockroach. I’ll handle Pam.”
Something about the way that he said it brought shivers up Rick’s spine. The room was comfortably warm, but Rick was suddenly very, very cold.
XXX
He waited outside her parent’s home. The window on the second floor was hers; he could almost see her there. He could almost see the Cinderella light fixture, her fluffy pink drapes, even the snow globe on her dresser (a gift from her father when she graduated kindergarten). Pamela was in there. Yeah, a slut like her probably never left her bed unless her parents were home. In fact, Todd was pretty sure that some guy was giving it to her right now. There was no car in the driveway, but anyone could park around the block, or take the bus, much as Todd did himself.
He stared up at her window, looking for lights and finding none. Slowly he walked back to the bus stop, two pairs of pants rubbing against one another (and with one of those pairs being corduroy it was driving him bug shit). The knife he had swiped from the main cafeteria fit snuggly between his waistbands.
Above the street, unaware of her ex-boyfriend’s activities, Pamela slept. Her parents were gone for dinner; her head was pounding too violently to join them. She dreamt of Todd. Todd, with a dark face and a butcher knife, was chasing her through unnamed streets. She woke once, a thin blanket of sweat covering her body, a shallow pool also between her breasts and clinging to her flimsy nightgown. One glance at the alarm clock told her that there wasn’t much point in getting out of bed, so she fell back to sleep. There were no more dreams. By the time she woke up, seven-thirty-ish the next morning, any bad dreams were forgotten completely.