Phoenix Knight [A Bad Boy Story] - Editing

Chapter Four

We continued to ride for a while longer and then pulled up in front of a quaint two-storey dwelling was built adjacent to a long line of other identical buildings. I immediately recognised the street and then the house. Plot 32. This home was infamous.

I hopped off the seat of the bike and waited for him by the sidewalk.

The small house had a waist-high picket fence that Phoenix jumped over. He walked across a small plot of grass and then pushed down on the handle to a plain, white door.

I followed his exact route but before I entered the house, I stopped by the door and stared up at the building. The red-brown bricks were chipping in some places and weeds were crawling up the sides where Phoenix clearly hadn’t bothered to tame them. It would have been your ordinary house if not for the fact that this was where two friendly human beings had been shot dead by a deadly intruder.

I entered the house and shock spread across my features. The inside of the building could only be described as spotless.

As I stalked further into the house, I noticed that picture frames of wild flowers and farm animals sat straight on the walls. His kitchen was to the left of the hall I walked through and I saw that not a single dirty dish lay in the sink or upon gleaming countertops. The carpet I walked upon was vacuumed and immaculate apart from a few cigarette stains that were hard to get out.

I came out into his living room and continued to stare.

Pillows were neatly arranged and the room was perfectly symmetrical with a bachelor’s flat screen television right at the centre.

If I hadn’t known that someone actually lived here then I wouldn’t have believed it. Let alone someone like Phoenix Knight!

It was almost as if he had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I wouldn’t be surprised. He was already weird enough as it was.

I heard heavy footsteps to my left and spotted Phoenix jumping down the stairs three at a time.

He must have noticed me staring because then he huffed. “You weren’t supposed to come in.”

I chuckled. “You never said I couldn’t.”

“Oh,” he sauntered past me and headed out the open door. “Come on, Barbie,” he shouted from somewhere outside.

I rolled my eyes. Of all of the nicknames in the world, why that one? I don’t even look like Barbie!

I marched out and made sure to slam the door just so that he knew that I didn’t approve of his name for me.

He handed me my bag that I had left outside with the bike – probably not a good idea considering how many thieves there were these days and the fact that I had left my phone in there – and slammed down on the accelerator. I pulled my backpack on, took a seat and wrapped my arms around him. Note to self: leave the backpack next time.

We took several more turns until even the residential buildings were far behind and we were pulling into the more dangerous part of the city. Spray-painted images with meaningful messages and cartoon images littered the surfaces of tall, broken structures.

I thought that we would just ride through the area until we slowed and the keys were pulled out. I cautiously got to my feet and stared at my surroundings. Where the hell were we? “Please don’t tell me you brought me here to gang rape me with a group of your buddies?” I questioned nervously.

He only spared me a glance before striding up to a dilapidated apartment block and pushing open the red door.

This was the moment when I decided on my fate.