Chapter 1 Nightmare
FORREST
“AHHH.” A deep groan broke from the Night Stalker Club office as I passed by.
Fucktastic!
A loud thud followed, vibrating the door. This was fucking ridiculous. Call me old-fashioned, but they
could do it at home before they came over.
I quickened my pace toward the entrance of the rooftop. Sex noise didn’t surprise me, but considering
my friends were the ones making those noises, it was awkward. I couldn’t listen to that. I couldn’t me
them if they wanted a quick fuck with their wives though. They had the best lives, but ignoring the
stabbing pain settling in my chest was hard.
At the rooftop, the sun just sat down from the horizon. My eyes were steady as I watched the red,
orange, and yellow colors before the twilight beckoning the sky. Those colors reminded me of fire,
passion, danger, energy, happiness, and hope.
I leaned my elbows against the concrete parapet, flicked the ash from my cigarette, and breathed in the
remaining inch I lit up while watching for the sun to set.
The lights started to scintite around me to somehow light up the darkness surrounding the city. I
stubbed the butt till it stopped smoking. Exhaust and city pollution came back to life.
I knew people said cigarette smoking was dangerous to your health, but this thing was a reminder that
life wasn’t fair. People thought I was a weird shit to choose a deadlypanion than a woman—that I
didn’t have a beating organ in my body, that I was an ice king if that even existed. What they didn’t
know was, I was a good guy, that I didn’t even like this another part of me, but it grew inside me
already, and I had to embrace it for some reason.
The thing was, hard life taught me to be prepared.
The only question was, would I ever want to be that person anymore? The old version of myself—when
I felt I was a better version of who I was today?
I walked down and met the nightclub manager, Knd in the locker room. I quickly cleared my mind
and pretended I didn’t hear what happened earlier.
“Bro.” He patted my back.
“Hey.” I wore my ck button-down shirt and rolled each sleeve above my elbows. My tattoo peeked
out. It was an orange me full of anger with ck smoke swirled from my wrists up to my arms.
“How’s your trip?”
“Great. Thanks for arranging my sched.”
“Anytime.”
“Got to go to work. Bills won’t pay itself.” I wore my ck apron with the club logo and walked out.
The former notorious yboy, Pyke Hughes, the club owner didn’t give a damn about the uniform. I
was d he preferred ck.
The main bar had its dimly-lit dived with only yellow lights emzoned from the low ceiling. Monday
was not the busiest, but the customers entered in somewhat rush as soon as the club sign lit open.
The music visualizer from the 3D walls created colorful particles in balls shaped that synchronized to
the beat of the 90’s pop song yed by the DJ from the booth towering the dance floor.
Thedy in a ck dress ordered a dry martini, taking a seat on the dark barstool. Her makeup was
simple as if she just came from long hours of work. She tapped her colorless perfectly manicured nails
against the bar counter leisurely. Based on her dress, she didn’te here to flirt and walk out with a
man wrapping around her slender waist and have a wild night, but she was waiting for someone to
arrive. Perhaps a friend.
I grabbed the cocktail shaker, filling it with ice, gin, and vermouth I took from the back bar. I stirred it for
a few seconds. cing down the martini ss on the counter, I strained the mix and garnished it with
olives. “Here you go, ma’am.”
She gave me a polite smile, muttering thank you.
After working for more than two years as a bartender, I’d learned quite a few, and not only on mixing
drinks but also the different types of people; from rich kids, yboy, bad boy, flirtdies, cheating
husband, horny guys, brokenhearted, dirty business, and sex, but I also developed a good rtionship
with my friends despite cynical behavior.
I ced down the order for table-four.
“I got this.” Dice, my barback took the tray with drinks to the couple at the dark red C shaped lounge
chair with a half-moon-shaped silver table. With only a red light illuminated around the area, it was
perfect for lovers and lonely hearts.
I did my job, and time passed by like a blur. Sometimes, I wanted it that way—it made me forget
something I had in mind for the time being.
“Wanna stay for a while?” Knd asked, opening a bottle of beer.
I shook my head.
Our boss didn’t leave yet either. Pyke settled in front of the bar counter, grabbing the beer that Knd
had just opened. “Thanks, Wright!”
“That’s mine, man.” Knd groaned.
I chuckled inwardly. They were literally brothers-inw now. Pyke married Cam, Knd’s cousin.
“Wanna take it back? Go ahead.” Pyke raised the beer to offer back andughed while Knd was
ring back at him. “Then go grab another one.”
“Can’t take for your own, dude?” Knd scowled.
“What’s gotten into you, Wright? Does your wife not good at giving you orgasms?” Pyke teased.
I had to blink back the thought of what had just happened earlier because if my memory served right,
Pyke was quite clueless of them almost bringing down the door.
“Leave her alone, Hughes!”
They talked about sex quite often when they were both single and might have shared women before. I
had no idea. They quitted the moment they were in their serious rtionship. I guessed people did
change because no one had seen iting that Pyke and Knd stopped their sexual escapades.
“How about you, Wood? When are you going to have sex? What I mean sex, the hardcore kind, kinky,
and dirty. Have you lost your guymen yet?” Pyke smirked at me.
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Knd snorted. “Are you trying to liberate him?”
“Just trying to figure him out, Wright.”
They might have a few thought I didn’t like women or I was into dick, but who gave a shit?
I shrugged it off. “My sexual exploitation is just fine.”
“Really? Do you have a girlfriend? I know you’re not married, but I never saw you going out of the club
with a woman either. Waiting for a perfect girl, huh?” Pyke faced me, piquing his interest.
I shook my head. “No girlfriend. No wife. But I can assure you I have a sex life.”
Knd and Pyke burst intoughter, high-fiving each other.
“Then why do you ask for days off everyst week of the month?” Of course, Pyke would ask.
“I have to travel to see my family.” I only had a long conversation with them when they invited me
during a weekend or if it was not a work-rted topic. I thought they respected my privacy and never
asked personal questions, but I caught Pyke often intently staring at me as if he was studying what was
behind my facade.
“Of course.” He nodded subtly, seemed not to buy my reason.
After bidding goodbye, I walked out of the employee exit to where I parked my Onyx ck 2001 Chevy
Camaro Z28. I checked my phone for a call from someone as soon as I got inside. Zero.
I pressed the music icon on the screen of the GPS. Instantly, Simple Man yed over the Bose
speakers. I pulled out into the driveway, tapping my fingers on the wheel to the beat of the old rock
music.
Not less than an hour, I arrived at my pad. My pad was secured by an advanced security system that I
installed myself. It had a camera on the peephole that no one would even notice. I inserted the key and
pressed my thumb above the door handle with a small ck square for fingerprint scanning. In less
than three seconds, the door clicked unlocked.
I locked the door after double-checking to make sure things were in the right ces. I chose the colors
ording to my preferences—ck, gray, and white. The dark gray curtain was drawn to block the
light from the outside of the floor to ceiling ss window.
Exhaustion took over me. I’d been awake for more than twenty-hours now. I slumped body to my
authentic crocodile skin couch and kicked my shoes off and massaged my temples.
My mind went back to my phone. No call. I hit the number on my speed dial and it was picked up right
away considering the timezone there. “Any update?”
Bill Lioner, my tech geek presented our proposal to the Diabetic Research Center in New York two
months ago about our proposed project, the Advanced Insulin Glucose Monitoring System or AIGMS.
Unfortunately, they turned it down.
As much as I didn’t want to disappoint him, I couldn’t let his hope high. But if he believed in me and this
project, I should at least believe in what we did. I knew Bill and his team worked their asses hard to get
this deal. I just hoped it paid their effort.
“We’re halfway through it. We could use a brain you know—”
“I am busy.” I cut off Bill. His brain was more than enough for the project, and he knew it. “That’s why
everyone is paid handsomely.”
“Right.” I could feel his disappointment even from a hundred miles away. “I’ll email you for the update
after two months.”
“Make it after two weeks. I’ll arrange a video conference.”
“T-That’s impossible,” he stammered.
“I am not in a patient mode right now, Lioner. Make it possible.” My voice came out sharp. Bill even
gasped from the other end of the line, and he was aware that we were almost running out of time
“Absolutely, sir.” I knew how much this project meant for him. If we could make a breakthrough, he
would be the first to get the benefit since he’d been diagnosed with Type II Diabetes back in college.
“Good.” Before I could hang up, something came up my mind. “Bill, I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, sir.
“I actually have an idea. I don’t know if it’s possible.”
“I’m listening. Nothing is impossible, Forrest.”
I couldn’t help but smile when he called my name. “Let’s say you’re right. Is it possible to put the
monitor and the treatment together?”
“You’re saying—”
“I know it sounds crazy—”
“Brilliant! Call me after a week.”
My brow met in confusion. “Okay?” I hung up the call. Instantly, my lids felt heavy.
“Mama! Mama!” I shouted as I ran toward our burning house.
People from our small vige were already in chaos with buckets of water to cease the fire. I bit the
hairy arm who tried to stop me, then ran faster as soon as I freed myself. I mmed the door with my
body and ignored them yelling my name because I knew my mama was trapped inside.
“Mama!” I coughed furiously. My eyes stung, tears streaming down my flushed face. I couldn’t see
anything other than the thick dark smokeing from the kitchen.
“Mama!” I blindly walked and used my hands as my guide.
I opened my eyes slowly the moment I reached the kitchen doorjamb. It was difficult to watch the
scorching of huge me devouring Mama’s cab filled with her Chinaware collections. It was like
watching a starving animal eating its prey with an enormous appetite.
“Mama!” I shouted, running to where my mama was crawling out under our old wooden table, where we
shared many meals. Her swollen eyes were pleading, filled with horror, sadness, and pain.
“G-go, m-my s-sweet boy. S-save yourself,” Mama choked her words out, making me shake to cry.
There was blood everywhere—on her beautiful face, her favorite white blouse, and on her hands as
she pushed me away from her.
“Mama! No, Mama!” I gripped her wrists, dragging her out under the table, but she was too heavy, and
she was pulling her hands out of my grip.
I cried for help, but there were no words came out, instead, I continued coughing as the ck smoke
entered and burned my lungs, making me wheeze and breathe harder. I quickly crawled under the
table, ignoring the unbearable heat against my skin that I felt I was melting under. I covered my mama
with my body, closed my eyes, and took the fate that was written for me.
The me reached the table quickly, to my shirt and licked my skin greedily. The pain was excruciating,
and I was helpless to fight.