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  • Writer's pictureBrittany

Unfazed The Hazed Series Book Two (Chapter One)

“Calm the fuck down! I can’t understand you!”

I threw the covers back, and planted my feet on the floor, waiting for an explanation. A middle of the night call is never good. Especially when your sister wakes you up, crying hysterically into the phone. At this point, I’m wondering whose ass I’m about to kick.

Just say his name, Lea.

The floor is hard, cold, and… not mine. I twisted around the strange room, finding a pillow of blonde hair behind me. I guess I passed out because that’s a rule I never break: no sleepovers.

A cluster of incoherent words tumbled from Lea’s mouth, followed by, “He thought it was you.”

“Who thought it was me?” I asked, instantly pissed. If Lea was around my friend’s, there would be enough anger to go around.


Sighing, I ran my free hand over my face. “What did that fucker do now?”

H-h-he went into Grandma’s after a few days of being gone,” she said and my blood ran cold.

My little brothers are visiting. I clenched the phone in my hands, bracing for whatever she tells me. I’m not afraid to fight him. I’ve won some and I’ve lost some. I’m positive if he did something to my brothers, I wouldn’t lose that fight.

She fell quiet, and I heard a sob escape from her mouth. “Go on.”

“I was down the hall, I kept hearing him yell for you and it got quiet. I locked my door as you told me to, but I busted out when I heard Chance scream. He thought Chance was you and he… He stabbed him.”

I switched the lamp on beside the bed and rested with my face in my hands. I’m afraid to know the answer, but I have to ask. If I lost him, I would have to live the rest of my life knowing it was my fault. I could’ve defended myself from him, but Chance is helpless. I haven’t left a fight without a battle scar, but I wouldn’t let the dick get near me with a knife.

“Where’s Chance?” I asked, hoping it sounds better than what I’m really asking.

“He’s fine. I brought him to the hospital. They’re stitching him up right now. They’re gonna keep him overnight, but he’s gonna to be okay.”

He’s fine. I rubbed my temples, thinking. I could’ve lived without knowing this, especially every detail.

I spotted my jeans across the room. I kicked them off close to the door, and yet I can still see the clear bag sticking straight out of my front pocket. I grow irritated with Lea. She called me, made it sound like someone was dying, and then said it was my fault.

“That’s all? He’s fine? You woke me up in the middle of the night for this?” I snapped at her.

“I thought you would want to know,” she sniffled.

“Well, I didn’t! And I really didn’t want to hear over and over he thought it was me! It was my damn fault, got it, let me know if anything changes.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, Hayze! I’m worried... He ran off... I just wanted you to know.”

I know I’ve hurt her feelings. It’s the last thing I wanted to do, but she’s always at the brunt of my anger.

“I’m not anywhere he’ll find me, Lea.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said.

I hung up, laughing at her words. She says that constantly. Others may say I love you, but Lea tells me not to do anything stupid. As if it will be her last conversation with me and she can say I warned him.

I glanced over at the blonde asleep to my right. I didn’t know I hooked up with anyone tonight. I don’t even know her name.

I clutched my phone in my hands, staring at the clock in front of me. It’s past two. I consider going after the worthless fucker. It’s one thing for me to deal with his shit, but he brought it on my brothers and sister.

Chance. My head fell in my waiting hands. He’s lying in a hospital bed right now; probably dealing with the worst physical pain he’s ever been in. And the shitty thing about it is, it has nothing on the mental pain that’s about to hit.

I’m sure the family is by his side. They’re probably wondering where I am, I bet half of them think it’s my fault. I should be with him. I should go there. I should look for my dad. I’m the only one that knows what Chance is going through. Involuntarily, the tip of my finger traces over the scar on my brow.

I switch the lamp off, jump up and fumble around the strange room for my jeans. I reach the denim in the dark. Feeling like I just hit the lottery, I empty the pockets and take my bag over to the table. With my phone as a flashlight, I use my debit card to make the white line straight. I lean in, close my left nostril with my thumb and inhale.

With a sigh of relief, I slump into the bed, waiting for it to come. It hasn’t hit yet, but the anxiety floods from my body, knowing the feelings I almost had are leaving. I look at the blonde again and shrugged since I’m here…I tap the girl’s thighs until her eyelids flutter.

“Wake up,” I demand.

She blinks rapidly until her eyes focus on me. My eyes fall on her lips, I remember her now, and I remember what she did with those dick sucking lips tonight.


My lips smash into hers, but only to shut her up. Truth is, I hate kissing, apparently, it's necessary. Something about the contact is personal to chicks, I give them my lips for a minute and they’ll give me anything I want for the night.

When I pull back, she groans in protest. I tug the white tank over her head and grab one of her fake tits. They’re the only thing I’ve found likable about this chick. She lifts her hips from the bed, then shimmied out of her thong.

“I told you I shouldn’t drink tequila. It makes my clothes fall off,” she giggles.

“Baby, the wind blows and your clothes fall off.”

She thinks it’s a joke and laughs harder. Whatever she needs to do to lie to herself.

She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me back to her mouth. “I love it when you call me that.”

You’re the fourth ‘baby’ I’ve had this week. I don’t remember your name, still love it?

She rolls her hips under me. Biting her lip, her hands travel down my back and land on my boxers. I smirk, not like this.

“Up,” I say, jumping from the bed.

With a smile, she rose to her knees and scoots in from of me. I’m standing beside the bed, waiting to bend her over and she still leans in to kiss me.

What’s up with this chick wanting to be in my face?

She needs help, so I twisted her hips and pushed on the small of her back. Finally, her ass is stuck in the air. I rolled on the condom and slide in. I don’t take my time; I have one goal in mind, release, then I’m getting the hell out of this place.

Her moans are low and haunting; as my pace speeds, her hips buck wildly, and her yelps resemble a pornstar. Her walls tense around me with each thrust.

“Almost there,” she yelps, breathlessly.

I tuned her forced cries out, focusing on the pleasure building up. My head is foggy, I only see clips from the night, but I recall her rehearsed striptease when we stumbled through the door. I was cooperative then, alcohol pounded through my veins, I fed into her game, now I’m counting the thrusts I have left.

Just a few more.

When she cries out, her elbows gave out, collapsing her body on the bed. I didn’t know it was possible, but she becomes more useless than she was moments before. Finally, I pump out of her for the last time, slowing my pace as the last of me flows into the latex.

She crawls over to the far side of the bed, with a grin she giggles and whispers something. At this point, I’ve stopped listening to her. That might make me an asshole; she might get pissed, but we’re both consensual adults. She knew what she was getting into.

Her breathing evens out, and I roll the condom off, stick it in the wrapper and shove it in my pocket. It’s fucking disgusting, I know, but some girls are so damn crazy you have to protect yourself from the bunch. I gather my clothes and throw them on. I opened the door and almost make it out before I heard her sit up.

“You were just going to leave without saying anything?”

I slowly ease from the room. Leave without saying anything? I chuckle, what the hell would I say?

“Well?” She urges.

“Thanks for the blow job.”

I slammed the door as something crashes into it and shatters. Luckily, I’ve been in the house before. It was her roommate last weekend. With the front door in sight, I jog to it before her wrath gets the best of me. My mustang is parked on the curb, I slide in and speed away from her house.

I wish everything was as simple as girls. There’s no gray area for me; we’re either friends or fucking. Black or white.

I stomp the accelerator as the last of the stars are engulfed by a dark, menacing cloud. I barely slow down when I approach the road, I turn last minute, sending gravel flying. The drive to the cabin becomes damn near impossible during the rain, but it won’t stop me tonight. The raindrops slap into the dirt, turning the desolate road into mud.

I saw the back bedroom light was on as I ripped my car in park. Despite the rain slamming onto the tin roof, the night is eerily quiet. The animals that usually taunt the forest near the cabin are speechless, the spectators know tonight’s the night I’ll end his life. I trek up the front stairs and the room light shuts off.

The door handle won’t budge. I laugh without humor; does he think that will stop me? I look around the porch, only finding a small flower pot. I tossed it through the window of the door, glass shards explode, leaving the perfect way for me to get in. I reach in, avoiding the glass, unlock the door, and stomp in.

Surprisingly, the worthless fuck is walking down the hall toward me with his hands held in the air. He looks terrified as he approaches me, his eyes beg for mercy. My, how the roles have reversed. The sadistic side of me smiles as I imagine him begging me to stop as I’m sure Chance did with him.

“I swear to God, I didn’t mean it,” he says. He stops, keeping a safe distance from me.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t tie your worthless ass to a brick and throw you in the fucking lake!”

“I thought it was you!”

I laugh once, “Is that any way to talk to someone that wants to kill you?”

He opened his mouth, then snaps it shut, looking for an explanation. I hate seeing him. It was like looking into my future. Not only do we look like twins, but our faults are also matching up.

“I know you were in my stash,” he finally says.

“So, what? You’re gonna kill your own son for borrowing from you?”

I pulled a twenty from my pocket, crumbled it up, and threw it at him. He looked at me as if I’d just insulted him.

“Ungrateful bastard,” he murmurs. “Sorry about the boy, I know he means a lot to you. It’ll do him some good, though. Needs to toughen up anyway.”

I shook my head with anger. “That’s your son! Your sixteen-year-old son,” I say, stressing each word, hoping it’d bring empathy to him.

He shrugs. “Maybe. The kid doesn’t really look like me.”

He’d lashed out on me all my life, but I couldn’t take this. I’d heard I wasn’t good enough, I wasn’t his, he’d regretted me, but hearing it about my brother was different.

With my fist balled at my side, I walk closer to him, but the wailing sirens approaching snap me back to reality. There’s my reason: I don’t have time to properly dispose of him and he isn’t worth a felony.

I flexed my right fist, shaking it at my side, thinking. He looked at me then back to the door, and I knew what he was thinking. Before he could bolt, I slammed my fist into his jaw. The blow jolts him, and he hunches over, cradling his face.

The red and blue flashing lights lit through the windows. I grab the half-empty bottle of whiskey and run out the back door. I twist the top off and chug it. I walk to the tree line and then find an angle I could see them without being seen. I stop in front of a tree, slowly dropping down to the ground. As I bring the rim to my mouth, they drag his worthless ass out of the house.

In a moment I’m every version of myself from the past. It’s always the same, I know he has to go; I hate him, but damn if it doesn’t suck. I always think of what he could’ve been, but he dug himself a hole, now he can lay in it. I rise when the car eases up the driveway, hauling him away for the last time, he’s not getting out this time. He’ll die in there, and our last memory will be me punching him.

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