Nothing but a fucking pickle

KIERAN’S POV

"Are you cheating on me, after all I've done for you?!" my mother screamed at the top of her lungs, her shrill voice echoed straight through the thin bedroom door.

I opened my eyes, my vision blurred with exhaustion as I stretched against the mattress, rubbing my face with both palms.

"You're nothing but a useless, pathetic father, Aaron! I regret the day I ever met you!" she shrieked again, her voice cracking under the weight of pure rage.

Rolling onto my side, I shoved my face into the pillow and clamped it tightly over both ears, trying in vain to drown out the noise. They were at it again. For twenty-one years, their constant, toxic fighting had served as my morning alarm. Being an only child meant there was no buffer, no sibling to hide with, just the relentless, suffocating echo of their failing marriage.

"I'm filing for divorce, Aaron! So go enjoy your life with your damn mistress!" her voice echoed down the hallway.

Sighing heavily, I sat up, dragged a hand through my messy hair, and stared at the floorboards. It was always the same hollow threat. I couldn't count how many times they had threatened to split, or how many times draft divorce papers had sat on the kitchen counter, only for them to stay together and repeat the cycle the next morning.

I got out of bed, padded into the bathroom, and quickly brushed my teeth before splashing freezing water over my face. Staring into the mirror, I took in the dark circles beneath my eyes and shook my head. I couldn't breathe in this apartment for another second.

Heading back to my room, I grabbed my duffel bag, threw in a fresh set of clothes, and decided I'd take a shower in the school locker room instead. I slipped out through the back door while their shouting escalated in the living room. Ever since my dad lost his job, he spent his days getting plastered at the local dive bars and coming home stumbling drunk. My mom, forced to work overtime as the sole provider, despised him for it, while he just slept off his hangovers on the couch.

I flagged down a cab at the curb and threw myself into the back seat, letting out a weary breath as the city blurred past the window. My life was a complete disaster. I had parents at each other's throats, a cheating girlfriend, and a body that was decaying from the inside out. My fingers curled into tight fists against my knees as my thoughts drifted back to the party.

If Mason had been able to smell my rotting pheromones through the suppressed air, it meant my medication was losing its potency. A bitter rage boiled in my chest. I wanted payback against Mason, and I intended to deliver it on the hockey rink during our next match.

The taxi pulled up to the main gates of the campus. I paid the driver, slung my bag over one shoulder, and stepped onto the pavement. I lifted my collar to sniff my shirt; there was a smell, but thankfully it wasn't the foul, biological stench of Phenomocytes, just the faint, bitter trace of dried sweat.

It had been two days since I caught Layla with Mason, and the thought of seeing her made my blood run cold. I was genuinely afraid that if she crossed my path, I'd lose control and tear her throat out.

Taking a deep, stabilizing breath, I pushed open the double doors of the sports complex and made my way toward the team locker room. I turned the metal handle, the door opening with a soft creak.

The moment I crossed the threshold, the loud chatter inside died instantly. Every single eye in the room locked onto me. I froze, my jaw tightening as a wave of unease hit my stomach. Did they smell it? Are my suppressors failing entirely? I swallowed hard, searching the faces of my teammates, but their expressions were quiet, tense, and expectant.

"Why is everyone staring?" I asked, my brows drawing together as the silence stretched thin. "Is something wrong?"

"Kieran..." a soft, trembling voice called out from the back of the room.

I turned toward the sound and saw Layla standing near the far benches. Our eyes met, but she instantly dropped her gaze to the floor. Her lower lip was trembling, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying.

Rolling my eyes, I turned my back on her and walked straight toward my tall steel locker, refusing to grant her the satisfaction of an audience.

"Kieran, please, just listen to me!" Layla begged, her footsteps hurrying across the room as her hand reached out to grasp my forearm.

"Don't touch me!" I barked, recoiling instantly as if her touch burned.

My voice reverberated off the metal lockers. Whispers broke out like wildfire among the team as every guy in the room exchanged quiet glances. One by one, my teammates grabbed their gear and slipped out the side door, giving us space to settle it.

"I won't do it again, Kieran. Please, just give me one more chance," Layla sobbed, clasping her trembling hands together as tears spilled down her flushed cheeks. "I promise it was a mistake!"

"That's what you said the last time, Layla, and here we are again," I replied coldly, clenching my jaw as I stared down at her. "You're begging on the floor like it changes anything."

"No, baby, listen to me," she whimpered, rubbing her shaking fingers together, unable to hold my gaze. "I only did it because I needed the money, and I didn't want to burden you with my family's debts!"

I let out a harsh scoff, folding my arms tightly against my chest. "So you sold yourself out because you needed cash?" I demanded, the sting of betrayal burning in my throat. "And out of every guy on this campus, you went down on your knees for my direct rival?"

Layla flinched as if the words physically struck her, her shoulders heaving as she buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry, Kieran... please..."

For a split second, a flicker of pity stirred in my chest. I almost wanted to reach out and pull her in, but the sheer weight of my reality crashed back down. My life was already a timer counting down to zero; I didn't have the capacity to carry her lies too.

"Stop begging, Layla," I said softly, turning my back on her to unlock my locker. "Go home. I'm sure Mason gives you everything you need."

"Oh, she definitely gets what she needs from me," a smooth, arrogant voice drawled from the doorway.

I snapped my head around to see Mason leaning casually against the doorframe, a dark, predatory smirk playing on his lips. "You should hear how loud she moans when I'm buried deep inside her wet little cunt."