Longest chapter yet
Chapter Sixteen
Rannia had never been fond of hospitals.
As a criminal, being in a government-run building wasn't always the most relaxing thing, but it was also the smell. That sickly pungent smell. Eau d'alcohol, sanitizer, et cleaning products, if you will.
Wheelchairs rolled past in abundance, each accessorized with an old person of choice: greying hair, wrinkles, dotted skin—really, look for anything, and you'd find it. There were so many staircases. There was less security camera coverage in the elevators, so whilst every other functioning group went into the moving boxes of metal, the Amirs and Rannia headed towards the stairs in what seemed to be unspoken understanding.
Or maybe they just thought she was too polite to say anything.
Everyone was there was Mr Amir himself. He couldn't seem to care for his own brother enough to see him, and Rannia's spite for him only grew. Like a twisted black root, gnarly, threatening to snap and tear at the slightest movement. She needed to kill him before Mykel, so he wasn't allowed to name a predessecor...
Rannia's head snapped up as a scream wreaked her ears.
She stopped walked in the drearily lit halls and turned to face an open doorway. A young lady was mourning over what seemed to be the body of her dead father. Her wails filled Rannia's ears until she could hear no else. And then the beeping. The sound of dead. A straight line of noise signalling his end, ironically unending itself.
"Rannia, c'mon," Carter offered, touching her arm for her to follow. She turned to him with a parched brow, pale skin, and parted lips.
"You heard that?" She asked.
"That poor lady? Carter's brows pulled together as he averted his eyes from the scene in the hospital room, swallowing as he held down his lunch. "Yeah, but it's not good to look. Give her some privacy."
He tried dragging her away, as if desperate himself to escape the sounds around them, but Rannia shrugged him off.
"I'll catch up to you guys. I think I'll get a snack first. See you later."
Before the boy could reply, she left him, spliting off into another direction. Trying to ignore the hurt pang in his heart, he turned and rushed after his family.
It was selfish of him to expect Rannia to go see his uncle with him. She didn't even know the man. Anxiety tore through his chest. His fingers starteld wringing together, causing red marks all along his hands. He was such a bad boyfriend. Neglecting her like that, just because he'd lost someone.
After the Amirs headed towards Uncle's room, Rannia headed towards the lounging room. Passing a receptionist on the way there, she'd heard something about an Amir heading out for a short walk. She wanted to find him first. She wanted him dead. So she would find him first. And she found him, he would be dead. It was only a matter of how he'd die.
The knife along her thigh was there for moral support, really. She couldn't very well stab the man and pretend like she hadn't done it.
She felt a little delusional. Maybe it was the bright white lights above her head. Maybe it was the nauseatingly white walls on every corner, unendingly clean and sterilized. Hospitals were for preserving life. All she'd heard so far was the loss of it. More cries sounded out from down the wall, muffled sobs as someone witnessed their loved one in their last moments. Rannia felt pity for them, empathy, even. She left the room sector and found the lounge.
She was whistling a tune when she entered. Her feet stopped themselves before she entered completely. Her eyes found themselves drawn to the limp body of a familiar man. Uncle. Her whistling stopped and she froze, fingers twitching as her eyes raked over his frail body. So vulnerable. He looked so small, so frail. Survival of the fittest was no mundane ideology; it existed in all sectors of life. Those that were weak, died.
Those that were strong, killed.
Ice crept up her neck as the moment neared her. Her pulse flooded to life in her fingers, coating them in a slim film of sweat. Of anticipation.
Rannia neared him with hungerish recognition in her eyes. Uncle stumbled, unsure why a young lady was heading towards him at a fast speed.
"Do I know you?" He attempted, desperately pulling his brows together as he tried to recall her face. Her features reminded him of someone he knew.
Someone he feared.
"Head up," she murmured once she was close enough. Before he could react, her palm gripped his chin and sent him sprawling backwards into the wall. His head bounced off the wall with a thud. A thin trail of blood seeped from where his temple lay. There were no cameras in the lounge.
"Nurse! Nurse!" Rannia cried, terror lining her voice with practiced fragility. She stumbled back as a nurse found her, arms wrapping around herself as she willed tears to her eyes.
"He...he fell. I-I couldn't help him, I—" Rannia managed to choke out a believable sounding sob. When the nurse tried to approach the fallen man and call for help, Rannia jumped forward, hands gripping the nurse's arm as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Please, please, he-he fell. I don't—he's dead, isn't he? Oh god, oh my go—"
It was a flurry of white garbs.
Through her tears, Rannia spotted a boy's figure running towards her down the hall. When he came closer, she recognized the soft hands on her own as Carter's. He was there.
"Rannia? What happened?" His eyes fell to the tears on her cheeks and he pulled her to his chest, caressing her head, petting her hair softly as his own hands trembled. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes from the limp body of his uncle being carried out on a stretcher
This was why he stayed out of their business. He wasn't built for this. This was...this was terrible.
"Rannia, babe," he pulled back to look at her tear stained face. Rannia hiccupped. "Did he..." He paused, unsure as his own tears began to build up. "First Jared, and now...now..."
The world was collapsing around him, and he had all but his pillar, his Rannia. How could he have neglected her when she felt so good to hold? How could he have burrowed himself away into work when her smile was waiting for him, even if nothing else was?
They made quite the pair: one lovesick but lost, the other lust-bound and stuck.
It didn't take much to tell which was which.
A large hand pulled them apart.
"Boy," snapped a commanding voice. "Stop crying."
Carter opened his eyes and blinked his vision clear. There was still a puddle of blood on the floor, but his uncle was gone. He wanted to cry again.
The voice turned, eyes burning pits into the girl by his side.
"You too, girlfriend."
The sniffles came to a stop. Rannia wiped her cheeks and turned to face the man separating Carter from her. His fists were clenched by his sides and his heart beat wildly within the confines of his chest, almost begging to burst and have it all over with.
Ah, Mykel.
"That." The man pointed to the limp body being carried away in a stretcher. "What happened?"
Before Carter would utter a single word, he burst into tears again. Mykel ran a hand through his hair, sliding his other into his pocket to grab a few bills. With a sigh, he shoved them into Carter's hands.
"Go get a juice at the vending machine or something, I don't know," he requested grumpily. "Just stop crying."
He turned away from the boy and faced Rannia, face set and direct. He lifted a single finger and made a come-hither motion. Rannia glared at him and refused to move.
His jaw tightened and he grabbed her arm, dragging her out of the lounge and away from the chaos.
"Let me go, dammit!" Rannia slapped the hand on her arm. He didn't react at all.
"No."
Rannia let out a snarl.
"I just witnessed someone die—"
With a harsh yank to her arm, nearly dislodging the ligament from her body entirely, he pulled her into a nearly vacant room. Two pairs of eyes fell on a younger man lying on his hospital bed, sifting through a magazine.
"Out." Mykel ordered, staring down the poor patient.
"Brat, you can't just—" Rannia started, but a large hand was clamped over her mouth, preventing any more words from leaving her lips.
Fear seemed to settle in the young man's body as he classified Mykel as a threat. He clambered off the bed and grabbed his walker, awkwardly shuffling his way past them. As soon as the patient had dragged his feet out the door, it was slammed shut.
Rannia was against a wall a moment later.
"This is why you leave when I tell you to." He growled. Mykel leaned his head low so his chin was against her shoulder. When he spoke, he spoke what seemed like volumes. His fingers trailed up her body like fire-spitting ivy, curling into her skin with malice and intent. His finger traced under her shirt, eliciting a sharp breath from Rannia. "When you disobey, people die, girlfriend."
Sort of the point, she thought to herself. Instead, she leaned her head back and waited for his lips to reach her neck. When he did, he sucked slowly, gently, and then bit all at once. Rannia let out a breathy gasp, fingers curling in a sick kind of pleasure.
That sadistic craving.
"He tripped," she offered lamely, knowing no show-and-tell of tears would make him think differently of her.
"I know when people are lying," he whispered.
Bumps spread all along her skin.
"I know what tears are real." He lifted a finger and traced the dried line a tear had left, all the way down her cheek to jaw. "Carter is broken, girlfriend, from seeing that. So why aren't you?"
"I don't even know the man," Rannia lied.
Mykel chuckled. He nipped at her skin. One finger slipped under the waistband of her pants, teasing the outer skin of her hip.
"He's Carter's uncle, the man you came to visit. And you don't know him, you say?"
"Never met him."
Mykel pulled away from her neck, turning to look her in the eyes. The pale lighting sifting through the hospital window cast his face into slight shadows. Light reflected off his dark, dark eyes, and they seemed spears of whiteness within the chaos.
"Don't play with me." His finger slipped under the band of her underwear, pulling it up so her thong pressed right into her clit. She felt wetness start to build up in her groin, heating with each second that passed. "Tell me, did you want him to die?"
"No," she lied again.
"I could hurt you," he said next, eyes flickering down to her parted lips. They stayed there for a moment, slanted with a pained lust. "Girlfriend, did you want to hurt him?"
"I said no," she replied. Her eyes stared back into his with that same agonized need. She wanted him in so many ways. Behind her, above her, below her, and dead to her.
"Can I touch you?" He said next, hand dipping from her hip to right above her wet lips.
Her jaw ticked as her mind ran, unsettled with her need to have him touch her, and her want to touch him instead.
His neck, maybe. His heart? Any internal organ would do, really.
"Not like you asked before," she muttered breathlessly against his lips. He let out a grunt when she lifted herself on his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist, landing her core directly above his straining erection.
"Can I touch you like he touches you?"
Mykel's hands shifted away from her burning core, curling around her body in a sort of caress. That which felt similar to one she'd been in with another boy not moments before.
"Is that what you want, brat?" Rannia asked lightly, words floating from her lips. She tried to bite down on them, but she only succeeded in making her lip bleed. Words continued to tumble from them both.
A mess, that's what they were.
"Oh girlfriend." He pressed her further into the wall. They were touching each other, every crevice, every breath, touching. She wanted to move her hips against his cock, to feel relief of something, but she found herself pinned and entirely at his mercy. "I want to do so much more."
Rannia risked brushing her fingers along his strong jaw, feeling along the coarse hairs, stroking each tick of his muscles when she touched him. She was lost in the sight that was him beauty, and she hated every bit of it.
Both of them. They were nothing but monsters.
Rannia kept his heated stare as she let one of her hands drift down between their bodies, causing a rift in their connection. Her hands sunk down, down, down, just until her fingers dwindled right above her lace-covered core.
"Maybe I did trip him," she said, biting her lips as her finger took the final plunge and ran along her engorged clit. She let out a whiney moan. The heat between their bodies was becoming unbearable. Her finger was moving faster, quicker circles, sloppier movements. "And so w-what?" She was breathing heavily now, all sensations tripled tenfold by being in his arms, pleasuring herself as he watched her. Tingles started to spread down her toes, making her body shake a little. She let out moan after moan, riding out the high she was giving herself. THere was barely any room for movement with her finger, but it didn't matter. Not with Mykel's eyes on her.
Her orgasm ripped through her body, shutting down her senses for a moment. There was nothing, and everything, and absolutely everything. That rush. That high
As Rannia came down, her parted breaths slowed. Her hooded eyes fell to Mykel's. They hadn't left her stare the entire time, not once. His look was stern, controlled, but so, so dark. So hungry.
"You didn't really seem to care about him, did you?" She asked quietly.
"No," he replied honestly.
"Hm, heartless." She lifted her finger and pressed it against his lips. The smell of her sex scented the air. "Taste me," she said. He breathed in deeply, eyes fluttering shut only for a moment. He parted his lips for her to slip her finger in. His tongue rolled along her finger as he cleaned every bit of her off, lavishly, obediently. And yet the strong, unrelenting stare of his eyes on her face made her quiver a little.
Rannia found herself a little speechless. The high was almost completely faded, and all that was left was his eyes, his touch, and her mind.
The uncle.
He'd hit his head hard, but with all the technology at the hospital he probably wasn't dead.
"We should go," Rannia said.
Mykel stared at her silently for a moment before letting her down from the wall. Before she left, his hand reached out and touched her arm, stopping her in her tracks.
"You lied to me," he said, tone soft but menacing.
Rannia swallowed, eyes drifting back to him. He looked ready to kill.
"Don't do it again."
Rannia nodded and brushed off his touch, leaving him behind in the room. She told herself that her goal was to find the uncle, but truthfully, it was not to find anything.
It was to escape what she wished she'd left behind.
As she walked, her feet slapped noisily on the ground, hoping that might shake the feeling from her skin. His touch.
It wasn't that it would never leave her, it was that she knew she was an addict, and soon enough she'd need more. She'd want more. And she'd do anything to get more.
(a/n: bro. I didn't edit this chapter at all btw. I had to rewrite it for depression purposes, and that's my way of convincing myself that it doesn't really 'need' it. IF YOU SEE ANY TYPOS OR MISTAKES THAT IS ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT. sorry, it's not. I'm feeling a little unstable. time to write smut ig)