Two Bit Outsiders Novels & Stories

The rest of the day went by in a blur and the last thing I remember was my weird conversations with the ghost, Jem and then there was this mysterious guy named Cyrus. Jem, a ghost that had died at my apartment. Why? I don't have the slightest idea. If he chose to tell his story he will. If he wanted. As for Cyrus, I didn’t know anything about him to trust that he meant any harm to me or anyone else at this moment. How did you know when someone was dangerous? How can you possibly know if someone's intentions are meant for good? I suppose given time their colors would possibly show but until then I will attempt to believe that this Cyrus guy was decent.

No one thought it absurd for a rat to be at the table, nor did they see anything wrong with me being exiled to that distant corner. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and wordlessly dragged my chair back to the cold, shadowy edge. At the table, the discussion ranged from the company Fabio had just acquired, Luca's plan to win gold at next month's competition abroad, and Francesca's upcoming fan meet-and-greet, to some secrets of the underworld. No one spared me a glance. In front of me was a plate of cold, hard spaghetti. The nearest dish was well beyond my reach. I turned my head and looked pleadingly at the household staff standing by in attendance, signaling her with my eyes to help

“Just observe me. I’ll think of something and I’ll get us out of here. I fair require to persuade them by one means or another to take these damn sleeves off me.” “Oh, don’t you worry,” Bitsy said. “They’ll take them off you fair in time to stun you with one of those cattle nudges over there. And by the way,” she inclined closer, “you do realize that the press affliction takes a whereas to wear off, right? You’re not gonna be superwoman as before long as the sleeves are gone. Why the hell do you think we’re still in here?” Her close relative concurred. “If we’re going to elude, we’re going to require exterior help.”

My babies will bite you and eat you alive. Abigail dimly noted that the purring whispers now seemed to be coming from outside her head. She felt a caress on her thigh, hot breath on her neck. She turned her head and was face to face with Lilith. Abigail recoiled, as though electrified; her mind instantly clear, the whispering spell shattered by Lilith's malignant grin. She sprang to her feet, staggering like a drunkard, her head reeling at the bizarre insanity of her position. Lilith's silvery tones rose to strident screams of fury:

"Preston, I'm begging you to help me for the sake of all the years we've loved each other. Are you really going to watch them die?" People had begun to stare at the scene outside my office building. Dad stepped forward and stood in front of me. "You loved him? Where was said love when you nearly beat him to death?" Siphie froze and stayed silent. In the end, I didn't ask for the money back, but on the condition that she never harasses me again. On the drive back, I got a text from an unfamiliar number. I opened it. It was a scanned copy of a loan agreement, bearing the crooked signatures of James and Margaret.

While most of them have fled, there are still a few inside, trying desperately to help others who have been buried. My hand still sizzling, I shake it off and pull it back. About to reach in and pull out some more wires, I stop when I hear Dr. Cho screams. It wasn't her gloating but her being taken by surprise. Looking out, I see the four OutCasts charging toward me. "They sure took their time," I think as I reach in.

Her silence seemed to enrage Anita further. “Do you know how pathetic you are?” Anita continued, her words biting. “thinking that a man like Kelvin will ever fall for an uneducated villager like you. Kelvin can never ever love you. You’re just a stepping stone—a placeholder for what he really wants. And do you know what that is?” She jabbed a finger at her own chest. “Me.” Alice tilted her head slightly, her expression unchanging. “You’re nothing but a village girl trying to fit into a world that doesn’t belong to you,” Anita spat. “And no matter how much you try, you’ll always be out of place. Always.”

And Callum stepped off the last step. They sat on the hood of his car. Side by side, close enough that their arms touched along the full length from shoulder to elbow, the specific unhurried contact of people who had stopped pretending proximity was accidental. Neither of them moved away. The street was quiet. The streetlamp above them was doing the amber October thing and the night was cold enough that being outside required a reason. They both had a reason.

I was a Rogue. I collapsed to my knees and stared into the depths of the forest outside of Nighttide – forests I did not know and were unprotected land. Free rein for any lurkers – other Rogues or whatever other monsters lingered – to do whatever harm they wished to do to survive. Trying to remain calm, I pulled the backpack in front of me and rummaged inside. Mum had left me with essentials for survival for a few days – food, a bottle with water in it, and other necessities to aid me. I was right, there was nothing of mine in the bag, they would’ve taken too much space and would’ve made me miss my former home too much.

The words stab my throat the second they leave my mouth. After the call ends, I return to the couch. The laptop’s still glowing, but I don’t see anything. I stare at my own reflection in the glass. Tara Anasthassia De Carrillo, 25. Architect. Math minor. Independent woman with her own apartment and a decent enough portfolio to pitch to Singapore next year. And still....can’t let go of a man who was never even hers. I set the laptop on the table. Grab the wine. Take another sip.