Bury a Friend | Hemlock Grove |

Chapter 8 | Yayo |

"It's not my fault you can't get hard!" The woman in the passenger seat quickly pulls her shirt back on. She gets out of the car.

"You're not even that hot!" Roman yells to her.

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm hot," she snickers then slams the door. Roman slams his fist into the steering wheel.

She was hot, and it wasn't her fault. Roman knew this but he would never admit it. This isn't the first time it's happened. He blamed it on the stress of finding the vargulf. Every week that went by without a death was a blessing to the town. People were terrified, but not terrified enough to stop their normal routines.

A girl dies? The adults go back to work the next day, the kids go to school, the teens throw another party. As apathetic as Roman could be he still was concerned. Being surrounded by death was like a leach.

They hadn't given up. Every full moon Peter was out there, searching for a sent. As Dr. Chasseur dug deeper the more careful they had to be.

When he wasn't concerned about the vargulf he was with Letha. If he was with her she was safe from the vargulf. If he was with her Peter couldn't be.

He tries to remember when this problem started but he can't pinpoint an exact time. Since his.. issue had developed he'd only gotten remotely close to fucking once. It was at the gala and he was already in a bad fucking mood.

Gala's were something someone like Roman should like. He knows that. They're showy, self-indulgent, and most importantly filled with beautiful women. While his mother is over the company, Roman doubts he'll even enjoy them.

Olivia always knows how to ruin anything for her children. She's pissed at him because Emma's not coming. She keeps asking him over, and over, and over again why she's not. Roman has to walk out of the room and return later. Then watching her interactions with Shelley is painful, she'll never let the poor girl live.

The shining light of the whole event is Letha. That light doesn't last long, she throws up all over herself early in the night and has to leave. Roman tries to go with her but Olivia stops him.

He sees her across the dance floor. With her fucking piece of shit husband. He hates his guts and has a mischievous turn of heart for the evening.

She was far below what Roman normally went for, but she was hot in a MILF kinda way. It didn't matter, he saw red and wanted to establish something to her husband. So he takes her upstairs and shares his coke. She goes fucking wild for that shit and he smirks the whole way through.

The woman sucks his dick as soon as the last line is gone. Too easy he thinks. He grabs the razor he had cut the coke with and grips it in his palm until the blood is running through his fingers. Her eyes are closed, she's focused on what she thinks is the best head he's ever received. She's very wrong and he would like to tell her that.

Instead, something better comes to mind. Something better than telling her husband how she got on her knees like a fucking slut the moment he got her alone. He brings the razor to his chest and slices and a giant line into it. It takes a moment but eventually blood drips down to her face. Panic sets in.

Once she's standing face to face with him she stares at his sliced chest and almost gags. "Hey," she doesn't look away from his chest. "Hey!" He grabs her face. "Tell your husband not to fuck with me. Got it?" She nods and runs away as soon as he lets her go. "My father's company is in good hands!"

In retrospect, Roman should have let her finish before doing anything else.

But he didn't, and now he's here sitting alone in his car.