All Chapters of GOLDEN BOY, BAD BOY: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

ROOM HE SHOULDN'T ENTEREthan saw Jake reaching toward him, but he didn't wait. The moment he turned away from his brother, he just kept walking. He has no idea where he was heading to or what he was going to do when he got ‘there’. But anywhere was fine. As long as it wouldn't have him standing there with his brother, watching him pretend everything was okay. Like he hadn't just walked in with Aaron with blood on his clothes. As he walked deeper into the crowd, the party swallowed him again. Sweaty bodies moved all around him, laughter, shouting and dancing surrounding him. They all acted like nothing in the world mattered and he wished he could feel the same. His grip on his cup tightened, his fingers squeezing the plastic as he tried keeping his head down. But the further he traveled, the more people kept bumping into him. One person slammed into his shoulder and another brushed past him. He was about to address them when someone else suddenly hit him hard enough that his drin

ROOM HE SHOULDN'T ENTER 3 The music from downstairs kept on bleeding through the walls, its rough bass vibrating softly through their feet. The colorful lights from outside skipped through the slits of the curtains, painting the room in bright, quick flashes of blue, red and purpose. But inside Blake's room, everything felt… frozen. And for a moment, nobody moved. Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, his hands digging into the bedsheets and fiddling awkwardly with the fabric. Blake stood near the bathroom door, his hands on his buckle as he stared at Ethan. And the girl behind him adjusted her panties while she just looked between the two boys, clearly sensing the tension she had just walked into. Ethan felt his cheeks heat up so he quickly looked away. He tried so hard not to look embarrassed but he could already feel his freckles firing up. And, fuck, he hated that. He hated that after everything he had seen tonight, after all the insults, mockery that had been throw

THE THINGS WE HEAR The hallway beyond the room was colder than it was supposed to be. Maybe it was because someone messed with the thermostat. Or maybe it was just the chill that came with realizing how messed up his life was. Jake stood there with his back pressed to the door, the plastic cup dangling loosely in his hand. Outside, the sounds of the raging party were shaking the very foundations of the house, but it all felt far away. Like he was under water. All he could hear was what was going on inside the room behind him, and he hated himself for being there, listening to it. His body begged him to run, leave and find Ethan. Or just do whatever to get his mind off of them. But it did not. He just stood there, unable to move, while he stared into space and listened to the sounds going on behind the door. His fingers clenched around the cup–those same hands that had held a gun hours ago and did nothing while he stood and watched life leave a body before him. He placed a

THE THINGS WE HIDE Neither of them moved for a few seconds. Jake sat on the floor, holding onto the rim of the bin with one hand. His head was lowered and breathing was irregular, as he felt Gina's gaze on him. The rest of the hallway was oblivious to what was happening there. Laughter could be heard in the background, the music coming from downstairs shook through the walls, the vibrations reaching their feet. Someone ran by them, shouting about drinking games on the lower floor. The party was still going on and people kept on having fun. But between the two of them, something was different. Like all that noise wasn't reaching them anymore. Finally, Gina took the initiative. "Jake..." The moment she mentioned his name, Jake's eyes shifted away from hers. "I'm fine," he said quickly. Gina observed him for a moment before giving a soft sigh. "You're literally sitting on the floor next to a trash can." "I said I'm fine," he said with a sharpness in his voice.

CHAPTER 56 THE EYES THAT WATCH The first thing commissioner James Hyatt caught when he stepped out of the car was the smell. Blinking lights flashed across the streets in red and blue as policemen rushed here and there around the crime scene. A few feet away, blocking the entrance of the derelict drugstore was the yellow crime tape. But the commissioner paid no attention to any of that. All he locked on to was that smell. The rain had saturated the cracked asphalt while the cold, damp concrete had been impregnated by the city's wet trash stench that lingered after the drizzle. However, beneath those smells, there was one so sharp that it didn't seem to fit there. Blood. The drugstore stood at the end of the deserted street as though it was the last remaining vestige of the past times. The shattered windows once covered with posters and magazine covers now reflected the flashing light from the police cars surrounding the building. The policemen moved around the area–a few