Kairos - Blood (MxM) | Book 2 | ✅

14.Bad Dreams

I was squishing bugs with the bottom of an empty beer bottle. A blurry fair-haired guy, early twenties, loomed over me. Mike? Is that Mike the biker?

"What do you want?" I rudely asked.

"Your tongue."

I perked a brow then shrugged. The bottle broke. I used a sharp end on my tongue and began to cut at it, like using a saw.

There was no pain. Only blood. It filled my mouth and dripped to my feet where I squatted. Once I cut off my tongue I offered it up to the blurry guy.

He took it disgusted. "Better than nothing," he said and slipped it into his pocket.

No words came out of my mouth, just the never-ending blood spilling out and threatening to drown me.

"Now I want your fingers," the guy uttered menacingly.

That's going too far.

Not my fingers! How will I type? I need to type stories! I need to remember and the only leads I have come from my twisted stories.

Can't you see, stupid?! Peter and Max are clues to finding out about my past with Jack.

My fingers clenched on the sharp piece of the bottle. It was longer and thinner now and I thrust it without thought.

Swash. An empty sound.

The long glass shard gleamed for a fraction of a second. Then blood gushed out of the guy's chest, covering me head to toe.

Thud. He fell at my feet.

Did I just kill someone?

I gawked down at the sprawled body. That face was...

Dark brown eyes, large and lifeless. Mine. That nose, thin and pointy. Mine. Lips parted, stained with blood, so familiar that my hand shot up to my own mouth. There was blood there too, and the same lips.

Dead Steve?

Shaking, I reached to touch the dead guy's hair. Soft, light-brown like caramel. Identical to mine. Until it flowed, tightening and coiling. The locks turned into rapacious dark tendrils.

No, that's not me. I didn't kill myself. This isn't even a human being.

What kind of monster are you?! I wanted to yell. But I had no tongue.

The tentacles grew and held my arm firmly.

Trapped.

I tried to use shards of glass to cut the tentacles, but unlike my tongue, those black things didn't even scratch.

One look at the monster's chest revealed a long, metallic pen sticking out instead of the bottle piece I had thrust in.

Drip-drip. My mouth moved, but no words left me, only blood drops fell out.

"Stupid. Stop fooling around and get rid of it," a jaded voice echoed around me.

Why was the voice familiar?

"You know how to kill it."

Why was it my voice?

I took out the metallic pen and stabbed Dead Steve's forehead.

No blood. No crack.

The pen got sucked in. Those black tentacles retracted and became hair locks. Dead Steve took in a deep breath and sat up, alive and grinning happily. Revived Steve.