CANDY BOYFRIEND

Sour Patch Kids

"Y-you." His voice shook, as he stepped back. Fear shaking his nerves, as he forced himself to look at the tall intimidating man.
"You're the clown from that night, a-aren't you—"

The androgynous man scoffed. His scowl could mentally scar a happy child, if need be.

"I'm telling you all I know!" Grant screams.

Christa waved the book in the air, before tossing it at Grant's face.

"P-please! I—w-we were just following. I promise! I'll leave her alone!" Grant exclaims in a feared frenzy.

Christa approached the cowering young man closer till Grant's nose hits Christa's chest.

Grant whimpered, as Christa pressed both his large hands against Grant's head.
"Do you really...?"

Christa squeezed his beefy hands harder against Grant's head. The young man below him screamed in pain as he felt his own head getting painfully and slowly clamped.

Blood spurted from his eyes and ears, as he continued to scream.
"Think that I'm that clown?"

With one last agonizingly scream, Christa crushed Grant's head with his own bare hands.
Blood, brain, shells of his skull splattered  like a red shower on Christa's ethreal face.

"I'm not."

A muffled buzz took the man's attention. His head and heart pounded with hope. He hopes its you. Texting him if he was alright. If he'd eaten, or if he was still studying, working, or hanging out with his buddies.
The hope was soon shattered as he turned his screen on and was instead greeted with an unknown numbers that texted him.

'I can't believe you cheated on me Harold. Fuck u'

'Congratulations! Your character has achieved "BIG AMERICAN GUN"'

'P. Status: Released at Thursday, 12:14 am.
Good luck bud. Bettin' on ya <3

-J'

'Bro I lost my phone I don't know where it is. Help'

'u think this is funny, Kylie?! Kissing Oliver in the party knowing godamn well that he's my boyfriend?! Ur a slut!!!'

'Monaca, come quick. I'm gonna need u 2 patch a bitch bc Imma hit him again'

'GIRL. I ALMOST FICKED SOMEONE HOLY SHIT PICK ME UP RN RN. HES HOT ND I THINK HE IN DEMONIC SHIT GET ME OUT. ps, pick me up in the pink limousine. It qt nd fits me in the mood.'

'DAD IS THIS U'

'U. R. A. VERY. FUN. RUSSIAN.'

'I can't believe it. Nick's a GIRL'

Christa scoffed, as he shoved his now bloodied phone back to his jean pocket.
More wrong numbers, but no messages from you.

-----

"Fucking fuckity frick frack fuck—" You cursed as the doorbell rang, taking you by surprise. You were invested in your thesis, the suspense, the focus—only to be interupted.

The doorbell rang again, making you groan as you stood up from the chair. Your entire work scattered across the dining table.
You patted your back jean pocket for confirmation of your wallet.
When you felt that familiar bump behind your bum, you walked to the door, opening it.

"Hey—"

"Pizza Hot delivery!" The young man interupted you, making your eye twitch in annoyance.