The Heart System Chapter 2

The bus came to a hissing halt, and I stepped out into the cool evening breeze. The urban aroma was unique in this spot—stale ale, urine, greasy eats from the all-night joint across the road. This marked the town's outskirts, where neon lights buzzed futilely without truly piercing the shadows. A block further on loomed the gas station, its unsteady bulbs emitting a wan yellow light that left you feeling grubbier just from its glow.

Heading toward it, I spotted some motion in the slim alley between a pair of structures. Initially, it seemed like a pair quarreling. Then I peered closer.

They weren't quarreling.

The woman leaned forward against the wall, one palm steadying her on the rough bricks as the other yanked her wrinkled T-shirt above her chest. Her ample breasts, reddened from his firm hold, drew his lips as he suckled one with desperate hunger. She let out a deep moan, curving her spine, while his pelvis thrust into her from the rear, his pants shoved down to his knees.

"Fuck, harder," she gasped, throwing her head backward.

"Yeah? You like that?" His tone came out as a rough grunt, urgent and raw. He plunged deeper into her, one palm squeezing her breast, the other clutching her hip with force enough to bruise.

She let out a sharp cry, strands of hair clinging to her damp face, her breasts jiggling with each powerful drive.

I eased my pace, observing from the pavement. No one else spared them a glance—two fellows strolled by with smokes hanging from their mouths, hardly noting the display before moving along. This district had given up any facade of concern ages ago.

His rhythm turned wild, more brutal. "Shit... I’m close."

He withdrew abruptly, yanking off the condom clumsily, and pumped himself rapidly, growling as he released warm streams onto her lower back and the bunched-up cloth of her trousers. His torso rose and fell heavily, perspiration trickling from his brow.

The woman showed no reaction. She merely breathed out, rising straight, pulling her shirt over her tacky skin. Then she extended her hand, palm up, waiting.

"Two hundred," she stated, as nonchalant as requesting transit change.

He cursed quietly, fished a roll of cash from his pocket, and smacked it into her grasp.

She tallied it swiftly, tucked the bills into her cleavage, and smoothed her shirt as if routine. "Pleasure doing business."

The man fastened his jeans, grumbled a word, and they parted from the alley in opposite ways—fading into the city's throb like specters.

I ignited a fresh cigarette and continued onward, the metropolis thrumming nearby. Neon displays hummed, flashing uncertainly between vivid and faulty.

My gaze returned to that alley where the woman had stood. Once, there was a lady I knew—a young woman with tender flesh and lively gaze who, years back, picked wealth over true connection. My former partner.

I blew out smoke, watching it curl into the chilly dusk. Indeed... cash drove folks to all manner of acts.

The petrol station's unsteady lights appeared, the feeble yellow sheen accentuating the dirt on the sidewalk. Deep in reverie, I tossed the dying spark of my smoke aside, seeing it fizzle out on the fissured tarmac.

The buzz from the ceiling fixtures welcomed me as I entered. The door's glass pane rang softly, signaling my arrival in a chime that clashed with the roughness beyond. I halted briefly, adjusting to the stark fluorescent shine, the odors of fuel, brew, and musty atmosphere enveloping me like an old garment. Yet another evening, yet another watch. Routine as ever.

Ricky lounged at the till, hunched over his device. He glanced up, lids drooping. "You’re late."

"Two minutes," I responded, moving to the register. "Don’t get emotional."

He huffed, snatching his coat from the peg. "Thank fuck. This joint was lifeless, dude. One fellow got fuel, a tipsy lady attempted to relieve herself in the bin—usual crap."

"Sounds lively."

"You can have it." He inserted his card into the stamper, the tone piercing the air. "Try not to die of boredom."

"Thanks for the pep talk."

He grinned slyly, nearly out the entrance. "See you tomorrow, Evan."

And solitude enveloped me.

The refrigerators' drone occupied the quiet, the scent of scorched coffee lingering. I placed my phone on the surface, rested against it, and puffed smoke into the stagnant evening.

Yet another watch. Another dusk observing time inch forward, feigning ignorance of the urban grime seeping through the windows.

The timepiece advanced to midnight, marking my official start.

The initial hours dragged in a monotonous beat. Folks entered and exited: a man snatching smokes, a lady refueling her vehicle and grabbing power beverages, a youth struggling with coins for a fizzy drink. Features merged, some weary, some indifferent, some inebriated beyond awareness. I acknowledged, uttered the standard phrases, rang up purchases, operated the till. No novelty. Nothing noteworthy.

Then the entrance rang once more.

I raised my sight and stiffened. The fellow from the transport—the harasser of that girl—lingered at the threshold. His stare met mine for an extended instant. Two others followed him inside, striding assuredly to join, whispering softly. I released a measured breath, strain tightening my nape.

He neared the counter, acting as if all was normal. "Can I get a pack of these?" he asked, indicating a cigarette type.

I fetched the specified pack and pushed it over the surface.

"You love playing the hero, huh?" he remarked, tossing coins down, the metal rattling. "I get that. You’re still young."

"I love playing a man with common sense," I countered, collecting the coins and depositing them in the drawer. "Would that be all?"

One companion knocked a shelf, toppling an orange juice container to shatter on the ground. I sighed, shaking my head, murmuring, "Of course..."

They laughed softly but departed quickly. The trio exited the station, and I fetched a broom and mop from the storage, grumbling while wiping the mess.

The door tinkled gently anew.

"I’m coming in a second," I shouted, anticipating a patron. "There’s just..."

No. The identical trio returned, faces shadowed, gazes predatory. The lead—the assailant—advanced.

"Play the hero more, cunt," he snarled, spittle landing on my face. "I dare you."

I winced, steeling as the pair charged, crashing me against the counter. The till shook under me, containers rattling on racks. Punches and strikes battered my sides and arms, fierce and unyielding.

"Should’ve kept your mouth shut, kid," one growled amid the blows.

I clenched my jaw, using limbs to shield as much as possible, hacking from the impacts. "Shit... agh..." I uttered, resisting faintly, but their numbers overwhelmed.

Moments—or perhaps instants—passed, and they retreated with smug, icy grins, abandoning me sprawled, sore and wheezing.

Still prone on the ground, torso throbbing, skull throbbing from the assault, the entrance chimed afresh.

A figure entered—a young woman, though the counter hid her features. Her aura struck oddly, nearly otherworldly. She rested lightly on the pane, tone steady, composed.

"Can I get a mint cigarette?"

I moaned, clutching my ribs. "I’m... kinda beaten up right now."

She curved her lips. "I expect service when I enter here. Don’t let your little injuries get in the way."

I breathed out harshly, hauling myself upright. My limbs trembled, yet I seized a stool, pulled it after the counter, and slumped into it. Agony stabbed my flank as I aligned, revealing her—golden locks cascading smoothly, azure eyes softening the severe bulbs, complexion so flawless it stung to behold.

"Wait... I saw you on the bus," I uttered, eyes widening. "Then you... disappeared."

"Minted cigarettes," she insisted, voice edged, playfully sharp.

I hacked, flinching at the rib pain, then paused. Her appearance... she seemed extraordinarily youthful. "Uh... can I... see an ID?" I mumbled sheepishly, as if to the air.

She arched a brow, unamused, and delved into her pocket. "Fine," she replied, passing it along.

I accepted, peering closely while voicing it.

"Karamine. Goddess of Lust?" I whispered hoarsely. "What kind of a name is—"

Before words ended, a palm lunged at my visage. I recoiled on reflex, but her digits seized my left orb with unnatural strength. I shrieked, thrashing, sensing a searing tear within as she extracted. Agony burst, total and sightless.

Fuck! She ripped out my eyeball that easily.

And then... she consumed it.

"Delicious," she noted, nearly offhand.

"OH GOD! OH GOD OH GOD!"

Then torment peaked, and blackness engulfed all.

Was I... dead?

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