it sells the same day. Pretty soon, I have a reputation, and people gather around my corner to see my newest works. I don't ever tell them my real name. Never look them in the eye. I go by Nox. I let the darkness take over, the way it was always meant to.
I take their money until I have a small stash in my pocket, the wad of paper notes getting thicker each day. But it's still not enough because most of these people are just watchers. They don't buy shit, just stand around, admiring my shitty work. And as much as I want to smash their faces in, I prevent myself from doing so. Instead, I smile politely and inquire what they like, trying to get in their heads and convince them I'm the next big thing.
Maybe one of these days, one of them will actually fucking buy it.
I'm not selling today. Instead, I’m fighting a hangover from two bottles of cheap wine I had the previous night.
I am not an alcoholic, I tell myself. But there's a certain kind of calmness at the bottom of each bottle. And pretty soon, they are becoming the only way I can fight back the red mist that descends more and more often these days, threatening to take over my life like it did when I lost my little sis.
I'm slumped on the corner I've had to fight for, the wind howling through the streets until it suddenly stops. Time stands still.
On the other side of the road, the one with the fancy shops with expensive things in the display, is a couple strolling by, their laughter soft and sweet, their conversation friendly. But the man's hand on the small of the woman's back suggests there's more to their relationship, especially when his palm wanders downward toward her ass.
The couple is June Wildfox and Kade Miller.
They're walking by only a few feet away from me, not even noticing me. I immediately feel the red mist settling over me, and I spit on the sidewalk, snarling at the sight of them. They made me this way. They sent me here to the prison of the streets, and they're happy without me. The perfect couple, but if I have anything to do with it, not for fucking long.
I get up abruptly, my head pounding. Whether it’s from the hangover or the anger I'm feeling, I can't be too sure, but I already know I won't be able to fight the red mist this time.
They look perfect. He’s in that stupid peacoat he always wears, and his hair is longer, ruffled from every time June runs a hand through it playfully. She's wearing a pretty floral dress and a cardigan, her long hair hanging down her back. She looks fucking beautiful.
An insane desire to sear through her body with my cock consumes me. Whenever I see something beautiful, an inner need wills me to destroy it. And June, my little sis, is the prettiest of them all.
My hands form fists at my sides, and I head toward them. Ready to smash Kade's face in and finally claim June's pussy as my own. The way it was supposed to be from the start.
That's when I see it.
June turns to the side, and I see the faintest hint of her swollen belly. She never looked like that before. My instincts never lie, and now, they're telling me the truth.
June Wildfox is pregnant.
I want to fucking kill Kade. The resolve to finish this once and for all drives me forward. I don't care who fucking sees. I don't give a shit if I go to jail for the rest of my life because of this. I'll be fucking damned if I let him have her and the baby growing inside her.
"Are you the street artist?" someone interrupts my thought process. A body steps in my way, bigger and broader than I am, and my eyes immediately shoot upward, annoyed.
"Get out of my way," I snarl, already moving to get away from him, but he sidesteps me, blocking my way.
"I don't want any trouble," he claims, his hands up in the air, whether to defend himself or appease me, I can't be too sure. Not that I give a fuck.
"You're about to get some," I growl back at him, finally getting a good look at the man. He's about fifty, a silver fox, and clad in a sharp business suit. He certainly doesn't look like he belongs on this