Read Project: Killer (Project Series Book 1) Online
Authors: J.L. Beck
Project: Killer (Project Series Book 1)
PROJECT:
k i l l e r
j.l. beck
Copyright 2015 by Josi Beck
PROJECT: Killer
Cover Design By Louisa Maggio at
LM CREATIONS
Editing & Formatting by
Rogena Mitchell Jones Manuscript Service
Proofread by Ami Hadley of RMJ Manuscript Service
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means- except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews- without written permission of its publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
If you’re reading this book without buying it, then that is stealing and that isn’t okay. Please return this book to wherever you found it and buy your own copy.
Copyright 2015 by Josi Beck
All rights reserved.
contents for project: killer — if you dare
To my entire support team, beta team, and fans—writing books wouldn’t be possible without you.
killer
It all started
with a
kiss
.
It wasn’t one of those sappy ass ones, either. You know, where there is affection with electricity flowing through your body and you just fucking know they’re the one for you. No, this was a different kind of kiss. It wasn’t a spark, but a mere touch of one’s skin against another. I would like to think that somehow the simple gesture had triggered something into motion. Like that one kiss changed the world around us, tilting the perpetual axis. Like somehow that one kiss had signified our entire being of life—it didn’t.
That kiss meant nothing, and the feelings that formed from within because of it meant nothing. Every time I thought of Maggie, the way her brown hair billowed in the wind, the way her small hands clasped mine, it reminded me of the illness, the death that plagued me. It reminded me of the clock that slowly ticked inside of me.
I was dying, and there was nothing anyone could do. There was no cure, no miracle for someone like me. After all, millions of people lost their loved ones, so what would one more loss be? What would me not dying do for the world?
Nothing.
Eventually, I would be replaced. The school would get a new student, the teachers would forget I ever existed and Maggie... sweet little Maggie would move on and find someone new. My parents would have another child and life would be normal.
Normal, for everyone but me.
See, I wouldn’t get to live such a lavish life. No, the life I would live would make me wish the cancer had killed me. That it had eaten away at everything that made me who I was. Why, you ask? Simply because the person I was morphing into, the man they were creating me to become—was anything less than death. He was ruthless, angry, and hateful. He thought of no one but himself. He was careless, his needs only being met with sex and violence.
His memories would be wiped away, yet a small girl with red cheeks and brown hair would still find her way into his dreams. He would grow to hate that little girl for not being able to remember the memories of her while driving himself insane wondering where she came from.
He would eventually become one of the world’s best-trained fighters. Genetically mutated to the government’s liking. Turned into something he never wanted—something he never should’ve been.
Now, you see, his legacy, or the memories of who he was, would never be remembered because there was nothing to remember about a twelve-year-old boy who should be dead. No family, friends, or loved ones to care.
He was a killer—and I am he.
maggie—the past
I hated when
the other kids laughed at him. They would push and shove him, not even caring he was sick. Sometimes, I wanted to push them back or scream for them to leave him alone. Except I knew no one would listen to me. They never did. Instead, I sat in the background waiting for the moment I could swoop in and care for him.
He was taller than the other kids were—even at the age of sixteen—and just as cute. It didn’t matter to me how his skin was almost always ghostly white or how, instead of jeans, he would much rather be wearing something that didn’t cling to his body. To me, he was perfect.
“What’s a matter, Diesel…? Maggie not make you your breakfast this morning?” Roger, one of the biggest bullies of them all, mocked Diesel. This was a regular occurrence on the bus. Every morning this same conversation would take place. I was starting to wonder, when would it stop? Diesel ignored him like always and stared out the window. I watched from the seat across from him as Roger sat behind him and shoved his knees into the back of his seat.
Fury grew deep within me, raging like a burning fire. Oh, how I hated what was going on. Diesel had told me many times how me sticking up for him just made things worse for him, and for me. That there was nothing like a girl sticking up for a boy. It was against the rules. Lucky for him and me, I didn’t play by the rules. One would say I was a rule breaker.
“Knock it off, Roger,” I murmured. Diesel’s steel blue eyes turned to mine shooting daggers at me. I could tell by his one single look that I had angered him.
“Awe, what was that you said, Maggie? I couldn’t quite hear you, but then again, most of us never do.” He belittled me, laughing as his friends joined in the mockery.
“Just leave her alone,” Diesel exclaimed giving them the satisfaction they wanted. They wanted him to talk, to stick up for me—for anything—simply because it showed he had a weakness for something… for someone.
“You guys hear this? He wants us to leave Maggie alone.” Roger mocked some more, and I did whatever I could not to turn toward Diesel to take in his expression.
You’re a weakness to him. They will use you to get to him. I repeated the same words over and over again in my mind.
I became momentarily distracted as I talked myself out of sticking up for him again. So much so, I hadn’t noticed Roger had slipped into my seat. I turned, staring into his eyes. They were a dark brown that had most of the girls in the school falling at his feet. All except me. I knew the meanness lingered just under the surface. He was a monster in disguise.
“Maggie…” he hissed as one of his fingers gripped a lock of my hair. A tingle of pain radiated through my scalp as a soft yelp left my lips.
“Leave me alone, Roger.” I kept my voice stern and strong not wanting him to think his hair pulling had gotten the best of me.
“Leave you alone…?” he mocked, a sick smile forming on his face. If Roger weren’t such a dog, one would consider him cute. He had that beautiful sandy brown hair, and he was tall and played all kinds of sports. His parents could afford it, unlike Diesel’s or mine. He was perfect in the eyes of everyone around us, and that’s what set him apart. No one expected his behavior.
“Roger, this is taking it a little far.” Diesel tried to hide the panic in his voice, but you could tell what Roger was doing was getting to him. It was times like these that even if he had said we weren’t friends
—
because a dying person couldn’t make friends with someone in such a short amount of time—I knew I meant something to him.
“Does it bother you when I touch her, Diesel? Are you jealous?” Roger taunted, his hand slipping onto my leg. I was wearing a skirt, which was an unfortunate wardrobe choice for the day. I swatted his hand away, only for him to bring it back and grip my thigh hard.
“Let go of me,” I growled, growing angrier with every passing second. Roger had never taken it this far. He had never touched me in a physical nature before.
“Roger, let go of her.” There was vengeance in Diesel’s eyes, and his voice was stronger than I had ever heard it. He moved to the edge of his seat and leaned over gripping Roger by the shoulder.
“Get your hand the hell off me, cripple…” Roger rolled his shoulders, forcing Diesel’s hand to fall away. He lifted his hand forming a fist as if he were going to hit him. I knew I couldn’t allow that to happen, so I tried to distract him. I grabbed Roger’s wrist, prying his touch from my thigh, as I watched him lower his raised fist.
“If you ever get done playing with the crippled boy…” Roger gazed at Diesel out of the corner of his eye as if to send a warning. “You know where to find me,” he whispered the ending of his sentence into my ear causing my hair to stir. I could feel the heat from his breath against my skin, and it made me skin itch. I wanted to sneer at him, tell him I would never give into him, I would never be like one of the many girls I went to school with.
Instead, I turned my attention to the window, clenching my fists while counting to ten. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him watch me for a mere second, his eyes eating away at my body. Then he slipped from my seat and into his regular seat a ways back.
I released the breath I was holding, allowing fresh oxygen to filter into my lungs. Roger was a monster, the living, breathing kind your parents forgot to tell you about. The kind that had the power to make your life a living hell, day in and day out—and he did just that.
“I told you not to stick up for me.” Diesel’s voice was right next to me, and as I turned around to see where he was, I came face to face with him. His dark hair was long and slung back in a ponytail. He was looking at me with anger in his eyes, anger I had never seen in him before. A shudder ran through me as I bit my lip unsure of what I should say.
“Well, I told you I wouldn’t let them pick on you anymore. They don’t know what they’re saying. They’re dumb.” They looked at Diesel as an outcast because he didn’t talk to others. But what they didn’t realize was him not talking to others had to do with the cancer that surged through his veins. They didn’t understand, in Diesel’s eyes, there was no point in making memories he may not be here for tomorrow.
“They know what they’re saying, Maggie.” He scoffed, his attention going back toward the front of the bus as if to make it seem like he wasn’t paying an ounce of attention to me.
“You always try to see the good in people; you always try to protect the weak. What you don’t understand is I don’t need protecting.” He turned back toward me, his eyes boring into mine, willing me to understand what he was saying. The problem was I didn’t want to understand—I just wanted to help. I could feel emotions I had never felt before finding their way to the surface.
“You can’t save everything. You can’t save me,” he hissed out. My gaze slid down to his clenched fists and over his body, which was built tightly like a rubber band ready to snap, like a man filled with aggression. I understood his pain though. His anger was evident. I knew he didn’t want to be protected, he didn’t want even one friend if there was a chance he would die—and there was. Every day since his diagnosis was an extra day given. Friends meant when you died, you would leave someone behind. You would have a reason to feel guilty about your death. He didn’t want that.
“I don’t want to save you, Diesel,” I murmured staring intensely into his eyes. His attention shifted to me, the look in his eyes reminding me of waves crashing against the sand on the beach.
“Yes, yes, you do. You. The doctors. My parents. They all want to save me. Everyone wants me to live—except me.” There was so much agony in the words he was saying. It was as if he knew his fate and fighting it was inevitable.
“That isn’t true—” My words cut off, as his hand landed on my knee gripping it. He wasn’t hurting me, but he easily could have. Even if he was sick, he still held strength behind his touch, behind his words.
“It is true. Believe me when I say it’s true. I know what you all think. I know you assume sticking up for me makes it better, maybe you even think if you’re nice to me, when I die, God will grant you something special.” He was sneering now, his words forced out between his teeth.
“That’s not the p—” My words were cut off again as he squeezed my knee. The pain radiated up my leg, and I bit my lip to stifle the cry that wanted to escape my mouth.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Maggie. I don’t want to do anything to ruin you, but whatever you think is going on between us, isn’t. Whatever help you think you can offer me, you can’t. In the end, you’re only going to hurt yourself and bring more attention to me. The attention I have no need to seek.”
My mind was blank. Like a chalkboard that had been wiped clean. I had nothing to say—at least, nothing that would be worth saying. He didn’t care. He didn’t want support. Even though it broke my heart to see others beat him with their words and hands, there was nothing I could do to save someone who didn’t want to be saved. He was right… I was putting my nose somewhere it wasn’t needed.
I had been for the past six months now. Since the day when his parents came out and told everyone he had been battling cancer the last four years. We all knew there was something going on. He was missing school all the time, losing weight, and his demeanor had taken a major hit. He hated everyone and everything.
“Do you understand me?” he asked softly. His voice caressed my body in a blanket of warmth. He didn’t realize the good he could produce, the good he had the chance to bestow upon others.
I nodded my head, willing away the tears that were on the verge of slipping from my eyes. Be strong. Give him what he wants.
“Good,” he said satisfied with the conversation. His hand slipped from my knee, as I had to force myself not to rub it from the pain.
The rest of the bus ride consisted of me sitting in the far corner of my seat staring out the window pretending his body heat wasn’t what I was feeling next to me. I forced myself not to lash out and say something to him—something that would only push him further away.
As we pulled up to the school, and the bus came to a stop, my heart felt as if it were going to beat out of my chest.
“Remember what I said, Maggie.” His voice was a whisper in the wind as he got out of the seat and pushed in line to get off the bus.
He said nothing more to me, and even as he looked at me now, I knew he wouldn’t. At least not after this conversation. The words he had said would be the last he would ever speak to me unless I provoked him.
I couldn’t force myself to move. It was as if I had lost all control of my body.
Eventually, I found my bearings and slipped into the back of the line, my mind drifting to Diesel’s words. I can’t be saved…
Maybe he didn’t think he could be saved. Maybe he didn’t think he was worth it, but I did. I saw it when I looked into his eyes. I felt it whenever he would touch me, and somewhere in the depths of his soul, even though he was telling me he couldn’t be saved… in his soul, he was screaming for someone to save him.
Diesel was worth saving—he just didn’t know it yet.
