Patrick Morton Novels & Stories

David Bryant, he’s friends with Mikali and Kurt. He’s a quick-witted guy, with lots of tattoos and piercings thought in his trooper uniform. He wasn’t wearing any of those piercings, and I could only see a hint of the tattoos on his neck. “An attack?" I furrowed my brow. “I didn’t hear anything,” I shrugged.

As I removed my elbows from the sill to give Malik my attention for a brief moment, I have to fight to keep my mouth closed. He hadn't bothered dressing, as if doing so would be an insult to his body. I couldn't assume what I saw from just seeing muscles through a wet, white dress top. This is something so daunting, and so sickening to my stomach, I found myself struggling to breathe. Decorating the thick muscle across his torso, are heart wrenching scars striking across his chest to his stomach.

The opening of the storm drain was incredibly tight. Wrapped in her bulky, long black puffer coat, she started frantically unzipping it, preparing to jump straight down into the filthy sewer. But before she could even get the sleeves off, a dark shadow flashed in front of her. Mortimer had already ripped off his ridiculously expensive, designer cashmere coat, tossing it carelessly onto the wet, filthy pavement. Standing at six-foot-three and radiating pure, intimidating mass, he didn't even blink. He dropped his high-end frame cleanly into the cramped, dark opening of the sewer.

taking out five dollars in ones I reach out to hand them to him only for him to shack his head no. "What's your name" he asks catching me off guard, here I thought this Adonis of a man was just going to ignore me while we waited. "Harper, Harper Lewis" I hate my name with a passion, I still to this day have no idea why my mom named me Harper. I reach my hand out for him to shake and ask him what his name is. "Nixon Marsh" he shakes my hand and I feel sparks as if he was electrically charged and I pull my hand away quickly.

His eyes lingered on my face for a while, then he nodded, extending his arm for me. I placed my hand in his as we walked towards the front door when a guard approached us and bowed to Clinton. Anger surged through me when I recognized the guy—Maddox, one of the guards who had hit me during the time I was locked in the dungeon. The urge to return all the pain he and his fellows gave me was too strong, but I managed to shove it down under the mask of indifference, keeping my expression neutral even as my fingers itched to strike back.

he mocked. “I don't care! They are all good people!” I shouted and realized that actually I would have found some exceptions from that rule… Okada burst out laughing. “Ms. Kowalsky, you are adorably naïve and stupid… Do you know Marcus Mortimer? Did you know he was a lieutenant in the US Army at the age of 23? He was disciplinary discharged for attempted assault on his superior… but the truth was he actually killed his superior, and thanks to Hiro's powerful influence, and bribes… he still walks and talks freely. Despite of the fact that three expert psychiatrists diagnosed that he was a sociopath…”

“That’s how you got to know Donatello?” “Yes, and no” I said, shaking my head “Donatello and I were classmates at school. The two of us were even good friends. He knew about the abuse my dad inflicted on my mom, and eventually, one day, I asked for his help. He didn’t kill dad, the man is still alive as a rogue, but that doesn’t mean that he didn’t hurt him. Eventually, mom met Vitaly and married him; however, I know for fact that the scars he left are still too great to heal”

“They can’t break what’s already unyielding.” She smiled faintly, even as tears traced the dust on her cheeks. In the darkness of that chamber, in the bowels of a cursed fortress, that sliver of connection between them felt like a flame in a void. Their private moment was shattered when the heavy iron door creaked open and Maeron entered. Dressed in robes of deep midnight blue that shimmered like oil under torchlight, Maeron exuded a terrible kind of grace. His black hair cascaded down his shoulders, his eyes were icy and calculated, and there was a cruel smirk playing at his lips as he looked at the pair.

I could hear a thump and I feel a smile start to appear on my face. Walking inside, I see my cousin Jackson standing over my special guest. Andrew Mack. A cook who works at the Romani's. I had my boys go and pick him up when night when he was walking to his car alone. He's been here for about three days and so far hasn't had anything to drink or eat. His body is getting weaker by the minute and I just want to crush his spirit. I want him to get his hopes up and then kill them. I want to see his face light up and then go pale. I want him to suffer.

Michael asked me still shocked. "I am your brother, I know everything about you, Lincoln," I replied and his anger was slowly replaced with anxiety. I couldn’t help but feel pity for my brother when I saw the pain in his eyes. This is why I don't want to answer his question as to why I hide the truth about our parent's death from him. During Lincoln's last year in the University, after he's done being the football team's waterboy and decided to go back to the locker room, he witnessed the captain of the football team sexually harassing the front girl of their cheerleading squad inside the private locker room for the football team. Lincoln interrupt them and save the girl but the captain wasn