Island In The Sun 3

Chapter 1

Bryce, waking up from his sorrow-induced nap, takes the joint on his dresser, lifts it to his lips, and lights it.

How the fuck can she do this to me? My pride is fucked...I did all that I can. I'm only a man,

he thinks.

I can't be here right now. People smoke stress to de-stress. Lately when I smoke it, it increases the stress. I make the bitch cum, I fuck her real good. Shouldn't that be all she wants, all she needs? I'll be her fucking sex slave for christs-sake. Let her bring home the bread while I supply the jam. Quarts of that shit, all over her body. I'll make her orgasm with the strength of a coursing river...I got lazy I know! I was unaware of my reality. I scolded her for being rich while my parents struggled. My mom feels her bones withering away with each day and sees her hands dissolve into sandpaper with all the cleaning products. Evelyn will understand. I'll make her cum again real soon and then all will be well...

Chapter 2

Earlier that day, Bryce was at Steve's house and saw a conversation between Evelyn and Steve open on a laptop:

Steve:

Hey girl how have you been?

Evelyn:

Not bad just busy working. U?

Steve:

Same. I know it's rough. I actually just got promoted. I'm a project manager at my architectural firm now. We got big things in the plans. I'm taking over this new project at Hudson Yards, they're building a new observation deck right on top of the water. Multi-million dollar deal for my firm. I can't wait to see how it'll turn out.

Evelyn:

Omg that's great! I'm so proud of you!

Steve:

Thank you. I've been so stressed out with all the paperwork. It feels like I haven't left the office in days.

Evelyn:

Yea you really need to get out. All the pressure is not good on your mental.

Steve:

We should hang sometime soon, you can help me destress

;)

Evelyn:

Sure, today I'm at work but you can come over for coffee tomorrow at 10.

Steve:

Sounds good

:)

See you then.

This guy, Steve, is a real cunt. He's built like a truck and ran through girls in the same manner, ransacking their insides, leaving his mark for future lovers to inquire about.

What's that's bruise on your tricep?

That long slash on your ribs?

The bruises on the side of your neck?

Bryce saw the conversation while Steve was in the shower. The last message was from two days ago.

I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch. I'm gonna slice him up like a turkey. I'm going to go Norman Bates on him,

Bryce thought.

But no. Bryce had printed out the conversation and run out of the house. He wasn't gonna make Steve suffer, that would be too cliché. Evelyn was the real perpetrator. The wench that submits to the dick of success.

Bryce had scribbled the words,

whore, bitch, gold-digger

on the print-out. He'd place it in her mailbox! No, he'd staple it to a bag of dog shit and then place it deep underneath her drivers seat!

Taking his dog for a walk, he scooped up a heaping pile of fresh dung, dumped it in a brown paper bag, and stapled it shut with the print-out hanging from the top. He then drove to Evelyn's house deeming the stop signs as option instead of law.

Evelyn was outside talking to her neighbor when he pulled up. She waved at him, an inquiring look on her face.

"Hey babe, I thought you had work today...is everything ok?"

"I called out, I wasn't feeling too hot when I woke up."

"Aw you should have texted me earlier. I could've came by and made you some soup."

"It's fine, I'm already starting to feel better. Just wanted to see how you were doing. Figured I would swing by."

"I'm happy that you came. Come inside, I'll make you some coffee."

I'm drinking cuck's brew,

Bryce thought.

I can fucking taste Steve's lips on the brim of this mug.

Bryce put down the cup and didn't touch it for a while.

"Is everything ok? Is the coffee bad?" Evelyn asked.

"Yea no, it's great, thanks. It's just that I already drank a cup this morning and now I'm getting jitters."

"Oh ok...yea then don't drink it for sure."

"I'm not really feeling so hot. Think I'm gonna go lie down."

"Aw of course babe. Go to my room. I'll come in after I've finished washing the dishes."

Bryce laid in her bed with bipolar thoughts running through his mind.

Maybe her and Steve just hung out and chatted. I'm probably overreacting. She seems normal, her friendly self. I'm still relevant to her. If something did go down there would surely be signs.

But no, it had to happen. "Destress," what the fuck does that mean? Blowing a fat load all on her face, that's what that means.

Evelyn walked inside the room and pounced onto the bed like a lioness.

"How is my baby feeling? Does his head hurt?"

Bryce wrapped his arms around her. "Yea, now that you're here everything is better."

"Babe you're so cute...how's Prince Charles [pet name for Bryce's penis] doing down there? Does he want to come out and play? Or is he also not feeling so well? In that case I will give him a kiss."

Evelyn took out his penis and pecked the foreskin with her lips. Like the frog that turned into a prince, Bryce's penis transformed from a limp noodle into the Washington Monument.

"He's aroused! Now that's the Prince Charles I know and love. Stiff and ready to take charge at a moments notice," Evelyn said.

Bryce took her by her mane and hammered her mouth onto his cock.

"Yes baby, force it on me," she said gasping as Bryce lifted her up for air.

I wonder if Steve's cock went even deeper. He must've been so fucking rough with her...

Nah, that never happened, she's my cock slut, not no one else's.

Bryce got up on his knees, took her by the thighs, ripped the legs out from under her, and drove her backside to his cock. He shoved it inside her without even testing the waters with a touch.

"Baby you're so rough today; what's gotten into you?"

Bryce started smacking her ass and did not let up. He was smacking her cheeks as if there had been a pesky fly shifting from cheek to cheek; every failed connection fueling his anger towards this fly, progressively increasing the hostility of each strike.

And then he saw it. A bruise was peeking out from her side, residing on her ribcage. It was about the size of a human hand.

Bryce then ripped his cock out of her pussy. He smacked Charles's head against her asshole a couple times. Evelyn's body jerked in surprise.

"My asshole isn't stretched properly Bryce. It needs Jeff [name of her favorite toy]."

"Fuck Jeff...baby let's try it," Bryce said.

"Ok, but be gentle. Promise?"

Bryce listened. He slowly slipped his cock into her asshole.

"How's that feel?"

"Good baby, so good. Keep going. I want it deeper."

"Yeah baby you want daddy to go deeper?"

"Yes. Give it to me daddy."

Bryce settled into a more stable position and mounted himself. Like shots from an automatic he blasted his cock into her asshole.

"That's too hard daddy, too hard!"

"You little slut. You're such a whore. How did I end up with such a cum dumpster?"

"Stop Bryce, stop!"

Again, Bryce complied. He came inside of her then removed his cock and watched the semen pour out. Tears formed in his eyes.

"Baby?" Evelyn said.

He retrieved his clothes from the floor then blew through the door and hopped into his car.

Evelyn appeared on her stoop wearing a bathrobe, desperately trying to keep her genitals sealed.

"I'm sorry!" she said now, crying.

Bryce jammed the key into his ignition and took off, tires screeching as he peeled out of the street.

Be a man. Stay strong. She ain't worth it. One day you will be a Steve. You'll have the money. You're gonna make movies. Actresses will fall into your lap after screenings. You will no longer be slave to your emotions; the people, the women, they will be slave to yours.

A pungent odor infected the air.

"Ugh gross, what the fuck?"

He looked over at the passenger seat and saw the brown paper bag. It was now a bit soggy from sitting in the heat while at Evelyn's. He took it and tossed it out the window. It exploded on the side of the highway. A conversation coated in dog shit.

His mom was in the kitchen so he flew inside like a gust of wind, not stopping until the door to his room slammed shut. Mom was peeling carrots, stopping every few minutes to let her arthritis ridden hands recharge, turning around to watch what was on the news. Who got robbed, which murders were premeditated, that's all they ever broadcast.

Bryce took a jug of Tequila from his stash and proceeded to chug it until his throat retorted.

He rolled a joint then fell on his bed, passing out in this numb state of oblivion.

Chapter 3 (Continued from Chap. 1)

I am a man no more. A man can keep his woman in check...perhaps it's just the times we live in. These hoes ain't loyal. Chris Brown said that. But Chris Brown is a Steve no doubt. Women are just opportunists. They walk into a club and the setting gives them temporary amnesia; they forget who they came with. And sometimes even Steve's of the world are victims as well! I don't believe Chris Brown beat Rihanna simply because he lacked a punching bag.

Bryce was nodding off with these thoughts smashing against the walls of his skull. His mom knocked on the door and yelled,

"Is everything ok?"

"Yea it's fine ma, I'm just tired"

"You didn't eat dinner with us today; I left it on the table."

"Thanks Ma."

Bryce wasn't hungry. And the tequila in his stomach was knocking on his throat.

After about a half hour he puked. He hadn't eaten anything all day so it was just a stream of clear liquid.

If only I could unscrew the top of my head, take my brain out, and wring it out like a sponge,

he thought as he was swayed over the toilet, gripping it's sides to stay balanced.

He checked his phone and nothing, not one text or missed call from Evelyn. He dearly wanted the satisfaction of ignoring her. The fact that she seemingly did not give a fuck about his well-being only added to his misery.

Right when he was tethering the line of having an all out deathmatch with the objects in his room, "Ali" lit up on his phone screen. He picked up the phone and without any introduction spilled his troubles into the mic.

"How could she? I am no more of a man than a teddy bear with a strapon!"

"Bryce what the fuck are you saying?...I called because—"

"I think the whole world is going insane, I fill my mind up with liquor and drink away the pain."

"Bryce stop! Just tell me what happened."

"You and Rick are so good together. I sense nothing but trust amongst you two. Do you guys fall asleep together in each others arms? How it must feel to have exclusive, unwavering rights to a pussy!"

"Bryce you're beligerant, did something happen between you and Evelyn?"

"Nah she is straight. She's doing really great for herself. Expanding her knowledge of cockology, taking advanced level courses in dick sucking. She's great."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Let me come through. Rick home?"

"Yea he is here. Are you good to drive? I don't think you're good to drive."

"Girl I'm in my car right now. I'm straight. The road is straight. It's a straight shot on I-95 South."

"How about I come to you? Me and Rick will come."

"I could give a fuck about Rick."

"What do you mean? Bryce please don't drive."

"I'm merging onto the highway right now. Everything is fine."

Bryce left his house, closing the door gently not to wake up his mom. The nighttime air was putrid. God had failed to shut the burner off in his kitchen; even though the flames from the sun were gone, hot, invisible gas remained spewing.

Bryce took the bottle of tequila as passenger. He even strapped it in with the safe belt. Cruising down the I-95, aware of his state, Bryce was playing it safe, at least so he thought. The speed was right but the car was still swerving, knocking against the lane dividing strips like bumpers down a bowling lane. But he made it. Two hours of hardcore rap from the 90's suppressing the malignant voice in his head. 127th street in Harlem, NY. This is where Allison lived. Bryce called her. There was no answer.

Why is she not picking up? She's supposed to look out for me. Her out of all people! Is she fucking Rick and ignoring my calls? Is her pleasure more important than my angst!? Aren't you supposed to omit pleasure when your friends are in need? Is everyone so selfish?

Bryce tossed the phone and began to cry into his hands. The Tequila bottle was now on the floor a quarter of the way full. It slipped out somewhere along the drive. But it mostly slipped down his throat.

Bryce was rolling his neck like a slow fan. It looked as though his head was about to detach from his body.

Two men from across the street noticed Bryce in his intoxicated state. They waited for a while. They stood next to a tree with their deep hooded sweatshirts covering their scalp like Sith Lords. The only part of them visible was their bright yellow, cat-like eyes, which glowed like lightning bugs in the night.

Bryce was parked right under a street lamp. He was sitting in his car under the streetlamp, lit up like a trophy.

The dark figures approached his car. Bryce felt tugging at the door handle. He turned his head toward the drivers side window and found himself showering in glass. The two men pulled him out and tossed him onto the street.

Allison heard the sound of the glass shattering outside and rushed towards the window. There he was. Lying flat on his stomach outside the drivers side door. The only thing missing was his outline in white chalk. She ran to the closet and fumbled around the top shelf in hopes of finding Rick's commissioned pistol. It wasn't there.

Bryce is dead, he's fucking dead and Rick is unconscious. Where the hell does he stash his gun?

Chapter 4

Upon his arrival, while Bryce had called Allison, an unfortunate scene was unfolding in her apartment. Rick was a jealous man. If it were up to him, Allison would be caged up in the apartment until he came home from work. Rick was a cop. A cop that became one for all the wrong reasons, like a man with a small penis that lifts weights expecting muscle mass to topple over his insecurities. Often times he would scold Allison about her relationship with Bryce. To Rick, Allison's reassurance held no greater weight than a prenuptial agreement written on a napkin.

In this particular instance it was late and her worry for Bryce over the phone had fueled a heated argument.

Rick noticed Allison pacing around the apartment.

"What's the problem?" Rick asked, "Everything ok?"

"It's Bryce, somethings wrong, very wrong," she replied, "He's on his way right now."

"It's one in the goddamn morning. He's not staying here. What could he possibly want? He's not staying here. I got work in the morning."

"He is staying...he stays if he needs to. He'll sleep on the couch, I think he's drunk. [now breaking into tears] god I just hope he makes it here ok."

"Either some state trooper will slap a DUI on his wrist or he'll get eaten up by some 18 wheeler."

"Rick what the fuck is your problem. Why would you say that."

"You always fucking think about that dude. Whenever he hits your line you drop everything and reply instantly...when we Netflix, you guys text back and forth like you're still virgins in high school."

"Bryce is sensitive so I worry. He's my best friend, he's

been

my best friend...since first grade. I had no friends. I just came to this country. He reached out while all the others would just tease me about my accent."

"Yea but you're not in first grade anymore. And you have a man now. And he's not in first grade. He's a man now. Or maybe not if he's coming crying to you...what happened anyways? Did his girl cheat on him? [now laughing] Yo his girl definitely cheated on him."

"Rick I'm leaving."

"Where you gonna go babe? He's coming here isn't he? What are you gonna wait outside? On the corner? I think some of your friends might be out there already."

The door wanted to fly open but Rick rejected it. Allison picked up a shoe and struck him. He responded with a smack across her face. Allison managed to slip past him, running into the bedroom. He came over her on the bed as if he was about to fuck her. Evelyn managed to grab a jewelry box on her dresser and drove it down to his head.

Chapter 5 (Continued from Chap. 3)

With time not on her side, Allison was keen to settle for her nephews play gun in the toy bin. Pairing her phone to speakers, she played gunshot sounds while simultaneously sending out false shots into the night sky like an outlaw from a western trying to intimidate potential victims. The thieves immediately halted their treasure hunt and ran into the night.

Allison took Bryce into her hands.

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Oh thank God. You're ok."

"Of course I am. You're here," Bryce said as a smile crept onto his face.

"Let's get you inside. Can you walk?"

"I think so."

As Bryce stood, a sharp pain pierced the middle of his left leg.

"They kicked my left knee in," he said.

Allison slung his arms around her shoulders. She walked him up to the apartment.

"Where's Rick?" Bryce says as Allison puts him down on the couch.

"He's asleep...Stay put. I'll be right back. I'm gonna get you some blankets and a pillow from the bedroom."

"Thank you. I'm not going anywhere," Bryce laughed.

He lied. Driven by the strength of good virtue he wanted to urgently thank Evelyn. Putting too much weight on the door handle made him lose his footing and stumble into the bedroom. As he looked up from the floor he saw two legs unnaturally dangling off the rear of the bed. He looked above the edge of the mattress and saw Rick lying lifeless, a linear gash ran across his forehead.

Allison covered her eyes and continued to cry.

"He hit me and then pinned me down."

"What?...Is he dead?...If not let me finish the job. I'll kill that fuck."

Bryce noticed the tabletop clock laying next to Rick, it's sharp bottom edge freshly caked with blood.

"Oh shit—let me see if he has a pulse." His veins were still pulsing at the neck.

"We need to get him to a hospital," Allison said.

"He'll be ok. His brain will reboot soon enough."

"But he—"

"Listen Allison I'm battered and I'm still pretty drunk, I can't deal with men coming out of screaming vehicles with flashing lights. Rick will be ok—I promise—just please, Ali, stay with me for awhile. I know that Rick doesn't like me but I had nowhere else to run. And why would I want to? I loved you ever since we'd pretend-play Bonnie and Clyde in first third grade. You were my shooter and now I need one more than ever."

"Bryce I'll always be there for you, you know that."

"No you don't get the point...Allison I NEED you. Every day. Every God forsaken day. I jump from one woman to the next as if they were rocks floating in a pool of lava. The rocks seem to be getting smaller and I haven't been able to see land for the longest time. But it's clear to me now. It was there the whole time. Like a horse with eye flaps I could only see what was in front of me and I never cared to turn my head around. Land was there the whole time and I just kept jumping away from it! It was right behind me...an island in the sun."