Purgatory

by Hayley Smyth

  Without another word, punch after punch to my face, to my stomach, rained down on me, and with each one, the farther away I flew. The pain was indescribable, and I thought, for sure, he’d kill me this time.

  Blood poured from wounds I couldn’t see, bones cracked, my lip burst as his fist and feet connected with me. Over and over again. Neither of us made a noise; the only thing I could hear was the blood in my ears.

  Kill me; just kill me.

  At one point, the blows stopped. I had no clue where I was or what was happening. Vlad’s voice was a distorted growl as he prepared for the final blow.

  His foot, still clad in shoes, pressed down on my hand, crunching my fingers in one. I screamed, praying that I’d just die already. “You will never see her again, Ella, do you understand?”

  I wanted to nod, to give him something, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move.

  And so, my lack of answer angered him again, and through my bloodied eyes, I saw him raise his fist, now holding some large, some metal, and one moment I was bracing myself, the next, everything went black.

  Again.

  Chapter Seven

  Jax.

  Sunday night arrived, far too quickly for my liking. Tomorrow was the day I’d say goodbye to my family. I was leaving behind the home I’d had for nearly ten years. Anxiety gnawed at my fucking gut. I’d try to rid the feelings of trepidation with alcohol, but I’d needed more.

  That’s how I’d arrived at Vixen’s, on its quietest business day of the week. Instead of the hundreds of people that usually flowed through the space, there were only five men, including myself, sat around the stage, sipping our drinks, admiring the two girls dancing.

  I didn’t recognize the other guys, and we didn’t feel the need to talk. It was apparent that all of us were there because we were battling something or other.

  I wasn’t scared to join Vlad, no, I felt something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. A mixture of acceptance and grief. It was fucking weird, and I sure as hell didn’t like it.

  After the meeting had ended, my father and I had hung back, sitting in a silence filled with anger. My dad was pissed, and he didn’t know what the fuck he could do about any of it. Besides, I’d made up my mind; no way was I going to be the reason Carter never got any closure from the nightmare he’d been living.

  Vlad had used Amy’s death in the worst way possible, but it sure as shit ensured we’d keep in line. The Murdoch’s were only feared and respected on the streets. No-one fucked with Vlad.

  A statuesque blonde crawled across the stage, making a beeline for me. She was cute as hell, button nose, and the palest pink fucking lips that matched her nipples. Her hips sashayed from side to side, her eyes drinking me.

  Once within arms reach, she stood on her knees and hooked her thumbs into the pink panties, panties that gave me a glorious fucking view of her bare pussy beneath them. Needing something to do with my hands, I held my tumbler between them and threw Blondie a crooked smile.

  She spun around and slowly fell forwards, resting on her forearms, and her ass alone nearly had me coming in my fucking pants. Jesus. I needed to get laid.

  Her baby blues looked at me from over her shoulder as she shook her ass, her fingers running over her milky flesh, and I was just about to drag her from the stage, bury myself in her unknown pussy when a pair of hands slapped my shoulders.

  I looked up at Luca before he dragged a chair to my lone table and sat down.

  “Hey, buddy. Wasn’t expecting you here tonight.” He said, clicking his fingers for the bartender to bring his choice of poison.

  “You’ve heard then?” I replied, knocking back the last of my scotch, my eyes still fixated on the blonde who was now wrapping her long legs around the pole.

  I saw Luca nod in my periphery, “Yeah, man. Shit. I thought your dad had an arrangement with that prick?”

  “We thought so too. It seems the man of his goddamn word is one big bullshitter. But hey, what can I do about it now?”

  Luca was quiet for a moment, his eyes following the staff member as she placed a bottle of whiskey and a glass on the table. He poured himself a generous amount before pulling a baggie out of his pocket. I turned my head, watching him cut a few lines. “Jax, man, you know we’ve all got your back if you want to do something about it.”

  I frowned, “Start a war on the fucking Chrobak’s?” I laughed. “I appreciate that, but it’s not happening. I’ll do my time, serve like the Murdoch’s before me did.”

  He was quiet again, rolling up a fifty. I watched, distracted when he snorted up three lines. “How’s Carter doing, man? Any idea who killed her?”

  I shook my head. “No fucking clue. I’ll put a grand on them cunts being involved, though.”

  “The Chro’s?” Luca asked lines marred his forehead.

  A brief glimpse of worry crossed over my friend’s face, he’d thought he’d been quick enough wiping it off, but I saw, and I didn’t fucking like it. “What? What’s that face for, man?”

  He rolled the powdery fifty between his fingers, weighing up whether he should open up or not. “I dunno, Jax. My Ma always told me not to speak ill of the dead, you know?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Spit it out, Luca.”

  “Okay. But two things, yeah? Don’t shoot the messenger, and don’t take this as gospel, alright?”

  Annoyed, I growled, “Yes. Whatever.”

  He took a long slug of his drink, leaning forward to make sure no-one was eavesdropping. “I heard from a guy who done deliveries and all that shit, that Amy was pissed at Carter, more often than not. She was sick of him leaving her all the time, you know?”

  My face screwed up. “What the fuck? Amy had never even been to Vladimir’s fucking place. So, how the hell did anyone hear that?” It was true. Women of the Murdoch’s were kept as far away as possible from even the slightest bit of fucking danger. We did what we could to look after the women. And Amy had most definitely not been there. No fucking way.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Just telling you what I’d heard, man. This delivery guy had seen her on the arm of some big prick up at The Mansion, looking quite cozy and shit.”

  “What fucking delivery guy?”

  Luca thought for a moment, the wicked cocaine now flowing through his veins. “Hank? Anyways, like I said, just a rumor, man. But it may help. Maybe she wasn’t as happy as everyone thought.”

  I scoffed, pushing back from my chair as I tried to wrap my tired brain around all this shit. “Luca, man, I appreciate you telling me, but no. Fucking. Way. They fought like every other goddamn couple on the planet, but there’s no way in hell she’d have done that to Carter. They were in it for the long run, man. Tell your guy to keep shit like that to himself, before someone else ends up killed.”

  Zipping up my jacket, Luca stood to shake my hand, nodding that he understood.

  “You’re gonna be missed here, man.”

  I gripped his forearm and returned the nod. “Look after my Mindy for me, alright?”

  I left Vixen’s, the place that had been the crutch for me for so many years. I walked through its doors, and it was seconds before I missed it all.

  My alarm was the first thing I heard Monday morning. Its wails brought me back to the land of the living, my head hazy with alcohol, and for a moment, I’d forgotten what lie ahead. The skies outside were uncharacteristically bleak, and that’s what prompted my memory.

  Groaning out loud, I sunk back under the confines of my bedsheets.

  The last time I’d seen my dad was Saturday afternoon. My mother and sister were still in Arizona, some fashion week thing, and I’d received a distressed call from my mom.

  “I’m going to kill your father!” She’d screeched down the phone. “No, I’ll divorce him, and then I’ll kill him!”

  “Mom, stop screaming for a damn minute and listen to me. I have to go, you know this, right? I’d never forgive myself if Carter wasn’t allowed to bury Amy.” I placated, but it fell on deaf
ears.

  Mom wanted pops’ blood. “Sending my only boy to his death!” She had cried before my sister took the phone from her.

  “Jax, you there?” Kendra’s voice warmed me to the fucking bone.

  Rubbing my temples to try and soother the pounding my mother had caused, I replied, “Hey Kend, calm her the fuck down, will you?”

  Kendra laughed, “You know what she’s like.”

  Yeah, batshit crazy, I thought.

  “I can’t believe you’re going. Why aren’t you putting up a fight, Jax? There must be something we can do?”

  Sighing, I suddenly wondered if ending the Chrobak’s once and for all wasn’t such a bad idea. “It’s not that easy, sis.”

  She held back a sob. “I’m gonna miss you, big bro. You keep in touch, don’t just disappear.”

  “Of course,” I smiled, “Besides, you still owe me a beer. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

  “Love you, Jax.”

  We hung up the phone, and my dad blew out a breath, his suit jacket crumpled from spending hours pacing back and forth, sitting then standing, like a man with a gun up his ass.

  The old man was struggling to come to terms with my leaving, and it was up to me to keep him sane. Well, as rational as I could, given the circumstances.

  We drunk beer and discussed our options, there were none, and then his train of thought became nostalgic, speaking for hours about yesteryear and reminding me of silly childhood moments.

  All too soon, though, my father had to leave, and after we’d said an emotional goodbye, I made my way to Vixen’s.

  Carter was sleeping most of the days, only emerging to grab more alcohol, and the weekend had passed by in a blur of packing my shit and spending a couple of hours watching that sugar-sweet blonde shake her ass.

  And now, the day was here. Its ugly head was leering at me, and its sharp claws were keeping me from falling back to sleep.

  I threw the sheets back and eyed the small bag sat in the corner of my room. It contained everything I was allowed to take with me—one fucking bag. My guitar rested on the wall beside it.

  My phone vibrated on the bedside table, and I read the message with one eye open.

  I will miss you, baby. Don’t let that Slovak pig grind you down. Until next time, Jaxon Murdoch.

  I threw my phone to the end of the bed and forced my legs to swing over the edge.

  I stood, grabbing my clean clothes from my wardrobe before heading to the bathroom. I didn’t have long until I needed to leave.

  As I pushed open the bathroom door, there was a knock from behind me. Turning, I saw my friend up, dressed and showered for the first time since last Friday.

  He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the door frame.

  “Hey, everything okay?” I asked.

  Carter nodded and cleared his throat. “When do you leave?”

  “Today. This morning. Soon,” I stammered.

  “And you can’t refuse?”

  Shit, if only he knew why I couldn’t. “Afraid not. I’ll be alright. You concentrate on yourself, buddy. My pops will be picking you up soon.”

  Carter closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, I could see what he wanted to ask of me.

  Walking over to him, I gripped his stubble-covered jaw in my hands and held him, blue eyes to black. “I’ll find who done this, Cart, I fucking swear it.” Yanking him to my chest, a place he had spent a lot of time the past few days, I held my best friend, feeling his pounding heart, the sweat already wetting his clean shirt.

  Perhaps the Chro’s weren’t involved, but if they were? Well, shit, I’d not rest on this earth until I got some answers.

  Chapter Eight

  Ella.

  The thing about living with a monster as volatile as Vladimir Chrobak was never knowing when it was going to strike.

  The photograph left for me had incited a new kind of rage within the man who called himself my husband. Creeping out the bed, away from his snoring, sleeping body, I tiptoed across the floor, standing inches from the mirror and inspected the mess he’d created.

  It was Monday morning, and my face wasn’t looking any better. My stomach was covered in different shades of blacks and blues, finished off with an outline of the bottom of one expensive Italian shoe.

  My finger brushed along my swollen lips, the puffy skin underneath my eyes, and each movement sent shockwaves of fresh pain through me. Blinking, I tried to rid my eyes from the blur that was still present; I wondered if going blind would make this hell easier to live in, for the first time since the attack, I would be allowed to roam The Mansion once more.

  Today was the day, after all. The Murdoch would be arriving, and it seemed Vladimir’s lust for my agony and suffering had finally come to an end.

  Once I’d soaked my weary bones, tender muscles, and aching soul in the bath for an hour, I got out and had to do a double take of my naked body. My hip bones stuck out in a manner I’d never seen before, my ribs prominent below my breasts, the hot water had seemed to highlight each flaw I possessed.

  Never before had my reflection sickened me.

  Vladimir was stirring as I entered the bedroom.

  Locating a fake, insincere smile, I reserved for him, and I greeted him. “Good morning, husband,” I said, picking up my dressing gown from the floor.

  Vladimir sat up and stretched his arms above his head, not returning my good morning. “What time is it?” he asked.

  I glanced towards the clock. “Just coming up to seven.”

  He jumped from the bed as though it were on fire, grabbing his clothes from the floor. “Fuck! The fucking Murdoch will be here shortly,” he yelled, shoving his stumpy legs into his boxers.

  “Woman, I’ll have Marnie bring you some make-up. I want you looking your fucking best, so cover those bruises and wear something nice. I’ll expect you downstairs while we initiate this fucker.”

  I nodded, sagging with relief as Vlad stormed from the room in a flurry of clothes and limbs.

  Men’s voices from outside the open window caught my attention, and I walked over to my window, tying the rope of my bathrobe tight around my waist.

  My bedroom overlooked the main doors to The Mansion; from up here, I could see several of Vlad’s associates beginning to arrive. The hiring of a new man took up most of the day, lots of meetings, showing the newbie around and how things worked.

  After I’d arrived at Vlad’s, a couple of weeks or so after meeting Jozef for the first time, I had been on the cusp of puberty, boobs sprouting from no-where, and he had hired a woman who would soon become a weird type of mother figure.

  At the time, Edith had only been in her late forties, and she helped show me how sanitary products worked, what the blood meant, measured me for my first bra, and often cleaned my wounds inflicted by the men.

  I didn’t know much about her, even now, I still couldn’t tell you a personal thing about her. She was a shadow, always there when the sun was out, and disappeared into the darkness when it went down, only appearing again when I needed some light.

  If I wanted to find her, she’d be in the kitchen, gray hair pinned into a neat bun, apron tied around her waist. She’d be kneading dough, scrubbing the floors, folding sheets. I reckoned she’d talk to me and comfort me with words if I ever had asked. But I never did, never daring to speak of the horrors out loud, cementing them farther into my reality. For thirteen years, I had kept my feelings buried as far down in my soul as I could manage.

  I watched the activity unfold below me, noticing a man I didn’t recognize. He was huge, in both width and height, and his short, clipped blond hair screamed military. Vlad was donning his gray suit, and he shook the man’s hand, patting him on the back. Was that the Murdoch?

  The opening door behind me made me turn my back on the outside world, and I smiled, wincing as the cuts across my face groaned.

  “Good morning-” Marnie had started to say, coming to a halt in her tracks, seeing my
beaten, bloodied face. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She threw the bag of cosmetics she was carrying on top of the dresser, and rushed me, grabbing my hands. “Are you okay? What the fuck happened?”

  I shrugged her off. “Don’t worry about that, just worry about whether you can help hide this or not. Vladimir will be angry if I go down there looking like this.”

  Chewing on her lip, that told me that mission make-Ella-presentable was going to be a challenge. “I’ll do my best, babe, of course, but he’s done a number on ya.” She released my hands to tip my chin back and forth, blue eyes weighing up the situation that was my stupid face. “I could fucking kill him,” she muttered, pulling me over to the dressing table, shoving my shoulders to make me sit.

  Marnie pulled tubes of creams, pallets of what I imagined were blusher, concealers of different shades from her little bag of magic, and got to quick work on my face.

  But no amount of concealer would hide the truth. No amount of concealer would hide what went on behind closed doors at night.

  It was nearly eight in the morning by the time Marnie had finished her work with me, and she’d done her best, my face smothered in products I didn’t know the names of, but there was no hiding the bruises underneath my eyes.

  My red hair tumbled in shocking waves down my spine, the ends reaching my butt, the smokey eye distracted you from the marks, and the dress Vladimir had left for me had given me back the curves I usually had.

  Leaving the bedroom, the many voices from downstairs infiltrated my ears, and my heart thumped against my ribcage. God, I felt sick. I didn’t understand why Vlad needed me for this; I found myself wishing to be locked up once more. Away from judgmental eyes and wandering hands of old men.

  Marnie would be fine, though.

  She always was.

  She may have arrived a year after I had, but she’d settled into this new, scary world far easier than I had. Perhaps her home life had been so bad it made this new one seem okay, and I had no clue, either way, I prayed for her strength to get through the day without upsetting Vlad, or falling on my face.