2. Max

Stanford University, California – Five months later

" F uck!" The grunts coming from behind me do nothing to turn me on, except cause a quick recoil of the orgasm I might have had. It's the second time this week I've had to put up with his incessant need to fuck me when I'm on all fours… like a dog. Not only does he moan like a chimpanzee, but he has absolutely no clue that I'm as dry as Ghandi's flipflop right now.

Call me a masochist, even a glutton for punishment, I don't give a shit, but right now, Patrick's shaft is doing the opposite of making me come. I stopped caring about sex a long time ago. My reasons, that's nobody's business. After all, who the fuck wants some tarnished chick trauma dumping on them?

"Yes, fuck baby, you feel so… fucking… good!"

I roll my eyes for the fifth time since he started pumping away inside me. What I have available in the chest area of the itty-bitty titty committee, shake back and forth, my nipples rubbing against the Egyptian cotton sheets that are now rucked underneath me.

It's gotten to the stage where sex with Patrick has become… well, to put it bluntly, boring really. There was promise in the beginning, but that all fell through a few weeks ago after I asked him to choke me, maybe slap me around a little bit. You'd have thought I asked him to commit a murder. He looked at me like I was completely insane. Ok, so I like things a little… different in the bedroom. I'm not ashamed to admit it, but Patrick makes me feel like I should be.

Like being chased through the woods with a knife is a bad thing.

"Oh baby… fuck!" Thrusting in and out of me like a man possessed, he sounds like a fucking Orca Whale, like from that show on the discovery channel. What's it called again? With that old guy… Fuck … he has white hair. David something.

"Does that feel good? I bet that feels so good, Maxie, right?"

"Yeah," I sigh, picking at the invisible dirt under my fingernails. "Wonderous."

"That's right it does." Gripping onto my shoulders as he desperately tries to reach orgasm.

His groin slaps torturously at my ass cheeks, and I roll my eyes so fucking hard, yet again, I can see the back of my skull. My mobile pings from the bedside table, lighting up with an email.

The email.

The one I've been waiting for since me and my Med School friends applied last night.

"HOLY SHIT!" I scream.

"YEAH BABY!" He calls out behind me.

Ew .

"No!" I shout, smacking my hand behind me. "Not you," I chuckle. "Move!" Scrambling buck ass naked across the bed to grab my phone, I feel his dick slip out as I reach for it.

"Jesus Christ, Max, really?" He moans more than most girls I know. He should've been one at this rate. Ignoring him, I punch in the code on my iPhone keypad, sliding along to find Outlook. "You're just gonna fucking—"

"Shh!" I wave my hand behind me, hoping, praying, begging that he shuts the fuck up, so I can concentrate.

"Y'know what, I'm out of here. This isn't working for me anymore." I notice him dragging on his boxers and jeans in one swift movement. "You're too distracted with only God knows what, and you don't pay any attention to me anymore and…" He continues speaking but I zone out, biting the skin on the inside of my mouth as I wait for the screen to load.

Please, please, please.

"Do you even care?" Standing in front of me, he drags his sweater from underneath me, the sting of the fabric burning against my thigh.

"Yeah, yeah whatever you need to do." I speak, still not knowing what he just said. "Please, please say yes." I beg, crossing my fingers as I wait. I refresh the email again, and this time, the image on the screen materializes and I stop breathing… This can't be real… "No fucking way."

The whisper falls from my lips at the realization that… we got in. Getting accepted to this kind of thing is like getting struck by lightning. I should know. I've been applying for the past three years to get the free tickets.

A high-pitch scream emanates from my chest, causing my best friend, Sasha, to practically jump out of her skin as she walks into our shared dorm room .

"What the fuck!?" She jumps back, my head snapping up in her direction. Her deep brown eyes—almost as dark as the internal abyss of the solar system—widen in fright.

"Your friend is fucking crazy." Are the last words Patrick says to Sasha, snatching his satchel from the chair beside me and stomping out the room.

"Bye." I wave sardonically. "See you never!" The words sail from my mouth musically.

"What the Hell's his problem?" A delicate snort leaving her lips. "And why are you still naked?" Raising her hand, she covers her eyes. Jumping from the bed, I smack her hand away from her face and hold out my phone to her, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Look!" Covering my mouth, the building excitement running through my body as goosebumps dance on my skin. Her eyes scan the document in front of her.

"You're lying?" she breathes, snatching the phone from me. A light blush filtering over her beautifully smooth, melanin skin. The kind of skin that never has a breakout, that shines perfectly in the summer sun and is smooth as silk. If I was a lesbian, I'd totally get down with Sasha. She's stunning. Her tight curly hair kept nice and short; ‘less to bother with, she tells me constantly when I ask her to grow it.

"The fuck I am!" I counter. "Read it! Out loud!" I demand.

A slow smile spreads across her face as she registers exactly what's going on. Squealing, she jumps on the bed, screaming with excitement, grabbing me, and pulling me up with her. We jump up and down in unison and I can't help the bubble of laughter I release with her. Sasha is the biggest haunted attraction freak, almost as big as me and this has been on our To-Do list for the past year.

It's how we bonded during our first year of Med School together.

She drops to her knees with a bounce, and I follow suit.

"This is the fucking experience of the year!"

"Right! I can't wait to tell the others." I screech, jumping from the bed, rushing over to the door, and grabbing the handle.

"You might want to put some clothes on first!" she calls, stopping me immediately in my tracks. Looking down at myself, then back to her, she's covering her mouth trying desperately to stop herself from laughing as I stand there, door open, as bare as the day my wasted mother bore me.

"Nice rack!" Three football players sing.

"Ew!" I slam the door in their face and burst out laughing along with the love of my life, Sasha.

Another article in the ‘Horror Now Blog' pops up on my screen. Clicking on the link, I shove some cereal into my mouth and scan the page.

The play on words from the word grotesque is criminal, where do they come up with this shit? Footsteps sound behind me and I smell her before I hear her sickening, shrill voice.

"Decapitated," she reads, "both eyeballs missing and cum in the wound of… Jesus Christ Max, what kind of shit are you reading?" Hannah winces from beside me.

"The morning news, bitch," I nudge her roughly with my elbow. I can't stand having her near me. Mainly because her fucking perfume is vomit inducingly disgusting. "You smell like a baby prostitute." Countering, she shoves my shoulder as she rounds the kitchen island, snatching an apple from the fruit bowl and sniggering at me. "I'm also surprised you could read that, considering you're illiterate."

"I'm not fucking illiterate! I'm dyslexic!"

"Google diagnosed," I say around the cereal in my mouth. Hannah and my brother Jamie have been together forever. She got him to commit within the first year of him moving out here to take his PR company up a notch. He signed a million-dollar deal, and she got a ring.

Gold digging bitch.

"Besides, we both know my brother didn't marry you for your brain."

I giggle, making a blowjob action with my fist, and poking my tongue into the side of my mouth. A smack hits the back of my head, knocking my hair over my face. "Ow!" I shout, then realizing its Jamie, continue, "dick!"

"Don't you have something better to do than come to my house and eat my cereal?" He smirks over his shoulder, reaching for the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard and pulling the famous coffee mug I got him for his birthday. Large black letters spelling the word ‘cunt' wrap around the outside of the white mug.

"I'm waiting for Sasha and the guys to get here." I shrug, facing his laptop screen again.

"Oh yeah, that's right, you got that stupid horror maze crap this weekend." He snorts, placing a coffee pod into the machine and closing the lid. The awful gurgling sound screams out into the kitchen, and I close the laptop. I got way too drunk last night with Sasha, and my brain feels like it's tearing itself to pieces.

I love my brother, when everything went to shit seven years ago, he was the only one there to save me and even then, I don't think he really did. I'm far too fucked up mentally. Yet, Jamie and Sasha are the only people who I'd kill myself to save. Everyone else can go fuck themselves.

"First of all, it's not crap—"

"No?" He taps his chin sarcastically because he has the answers for everything. "It's literal fucking torture, Max," he counters, cutting me off before I get a chance to finish. "They're practically allowed to remove body parts."

"Yes, but—"

"Look," he interrupts me, which he knows annoys the fuck out of me. Sure, I'm trying to justify the type of situation I'm putting myself into but damn, let a girl finish first. He flips the switch on the coffee machine, turning to face him with a smirk. "I don't give a fuck what you do, ok? Just ping me the location when you get there."

"Well, you care enough to ask for that." Walking to the sink, I rinse my bowl, placing it on the drainer.

"I don't," he shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. My brother takes hold of my jaw in his hand, squeezing it so my lips purse out. "I'd just like to know where to find the body when I don't hear from you by Monday." Shaking my face in his hand, he jerks me back playfully.

"If she doesn't chicken out first," Hannah chuckles. "We all know how shit your sister's mental health is."

My head whips in her direction and I swear, I've imagined so many times all the ways in which I would kill her. When I say I hate her, I mean it in every sense of the word. She is a vile human being that thinks rape means, ‘ what were you wearing ?'

"Hannah," Jamie scolds her.

"Why don't you join us, Hannah? I'd love to see your eyeballs removed and the sockets fucked."

"I think that's fucking disgusting!" Her face screws up.

"And I don't think women should suck cock for a diamond ring but, oh, here you stand." I tilt my head, the same way in which a curious puppy would. I smirk and mouth the word whore at her.

Jamie stifles a laugh beside me, choking briefly on his coffee before he settles it on the counter, ready for the inevitable. If there's one thing I know about Hannah, she hates, and I mean hates , being called a whore.

"YOU BITCH!" Lunging for me, her nails flick out like a switchblade, just as my brother grabs her by the waist. Her valley girl accent echoing off the white kitchen walls, and I burst out laughing, flipping her off as he drags her from the room.

"I want that location, Maxine!" He calls from the hallway. The car horn sounds from outside, and I grin, the hair on my arms immediately standing on end because I know what's coming in eight hours. The ecstatic feeling deep within my gut making me do a happy dance. My best friends are the only ones who get me, who really see me for who I truly am.

Psychotic .

Running from the kitchen, I yank open the door and watch Sasha, Ben, and Decker start cheering and hollering from the black Range Rover. Windows down, Du Hast by Rammstein blaring from the speakers, and each of their beautiful fucking faces etched with just as much excitement as me.

Raising my hands in the air, I poke my tongue out and death scream with them, before turning back to grab my weekend bags and throwing them over my shoulder. Hannah stands still encased in my brother's grasp. So, to piss them both off further, I smirk, raising a middle finger.

"Later bro," I wink. "Later whore bag!" I laugh, listening to her high-pitched screech as I close the door. I jog over to the car, launching my bag through the back window and hopping in the front seat, dragging the seatbelt over my body.

"Looking good, Maxi Pad!" Decker jokes from behind me.

"Eat my ass, Deck." I raise a finger, flipping him off.

Leaning between us, he smiles. "With fucking pleasure, baby girl." Licking my cheek, dodging my attack on him, and sitting back in his seat.

"Pretty hard to eat her ass with a man's junk constantly shoved in the back of your throat." Ben scoffs behind me. I turn to watch their engagement.

"Jealous it's not yours?" Decker's sexually charged voice sings.

"I'd rather drink bleach than put my cock anywhere near the glory hole that is your mouth," Ben retorts.

"That's not what you said last week when you were—"

"I wasn't fucking drunk we established that!" Ben punches Deck in the arm, and I hear the pop of the connection.

"So, you were sober?" Deck chuckles. Sasha, and I both burst out laughing. Our cackles filling the car as she reverses from the driveway, Ben and Deck still arguing like brothers in the back seat.

"Ready to make the four-and-a-half-hour drive to Redwood Motel?" Sasha shouts over the music. Leaning over, I grab her face, roughly, pressing my lips to hers in an overly adrenalized kiss.

"Let's fucking goooo !" I scream.