by Forgy, M. N.
“This will make everything right,” I whisper to myself. Weed drowns out the bullshit the world has to offer. “Shut up and hit this.” I offer him the joint, and he takes it graciously.
Chapter 3
Raven
Waking up, my body is stiff and my stomach cramps from hunger. Soft fabric claims my chest and shoulders, and I look down finding a black distressed Sin City Outlaws shirt covering my body. It’s much too big for me and is like a nightgown. It smells of a man, a certain man in particular. Machete.
Old leather, spice, and the slight scent of sweat.
My head whips up in the direction of the door, curious if Machete put it on me while I was sleeping. My brows furrow from the caring act. Maybe there’s more to him than he lets on. I know a little of his story about his wife, and I also know that little piece of hell made him the man he is today. So I shouldn’t start thinking he’s some gentleman because he’s the craziest Outlaw of them yet.
My eyes widen as remember I swiped a tool from the torture wall on my way in here when Machete wasn’t looking. I skid to the floor and search for it, my hand blindly searching about in the darkness. It looked like some kind of a screwdriver sharpened to a point at the end.
My hands stumble in the dark as I feel around on the floor. When I attacked him it fell from my hands and dropped down here somewhere. I can’t believe Machete didn’t even notice I had it. Dumbass.
Swiping my hands under the shitty bed my fingertips come into contact with a sharp metal point and my eyes perk. I found it!
Fisting it, I pull it out from under the bed and hold it close to my chest. I feel safer having it. I climb on the bed, my heart beating in my chest violently. Should I use it to try and unscrew this cuff around my ankle or use it on Machete? Maybe both?
I lick my dry lips, debating on what I want to do with it.
Glancing around the room, it’s so dark I can’t see even a shadow. Fear strikes heavy in my chest. I hate the dark, it brings back memories of me being locked in that cage. My bottom lip trembles as the need to slide off the bed is unbearable. To hide from what cannot be seen in the shadows. Much like the monsters in the books children read nowadays.
Only I am the monster and I only feel safe in the darkness a single bed has to offer. I’d rather creep in the shadows with unexplainable creatures than be seen with the ordinary. Hiding from my creator and from Alessandra is what I’ve done most my life.
Clutching the soft shirt, I pull my knees up to my chest and think about giving Machete what he wants.
Cross.
Biting my bottom lip, I think about how Cross took away everything from me, and Alessandra filled me with a grudge so powerful I forget to breathe sometimes. Cross tore me from my family, friends, a normal life, and exchanged it for nothing but anger and suffering. I tried to be normal but I couldn’t cope with the fear of Cross being out there somewhere. Coming back to him I thought I would finally feel like I belonged again, running to my terror instead of away from it.
Walking across the lawn of the college I pull my backpack tight and keep my head down as I head to my shitty apartment. It’s not much, but it’s something. It’s not a cage in the ground.
“Hey sexy!” a frat boy whistles my way, and my fingers white knuckle the straps of my bag as I pick my pace up. I’m not like the kids around here. I don’t care to party or to have a boyfriend. I want a degree and a chance at a normal life. Only they don’t teach you how to do that here, they can’t make me normal.
I was kidnapped when I was a child and made into a weapon, taught to kill or be killed. When I was finally free from that hell, I discovered another hell. Life. I’m afraid of everything and trying to be normal is more of a challenge than anything. Trying to smile when I don’t want to smile. Sitting next to people, and pretending to care when someone tells a sad story about their life. There is a darkness in me that whispers into my ear every night to give up and accept what I am. Savage. It’s easier to be bad and live life as a sinner.
I know where my parents are, but they had another kid and they look happy. Normal. I can’t just walk up to their door and knock on it, bringing the baggage that I am.
I’m not that bouncy little girl they remember. If I ever was, I don’t remember who I was before.
She’s gone, and I’m what’s left of her. It’s better that they mourn their little girl than see what she’s become.
Pulling my keys out of my pocket I unlock my door and quickly shut it, and turn the table lamp on. I drop my bag to the floor and toss my keys on the wooden table next to the door.
“Raven, your father has missed you.” My spine stiffens, the hairs on my neck standing on end as I slowly turn to face the man I’ve been running from since I was rescued from him. The same man I can’t forget. He’s practically my father, one I hate to want to be in his company.
Cross.
He is sitting on my couch that came with the apartment that smells like cats. He’s wearing a black suit and shiny shoes that the light of the lamp shines off of. His leg is crossed casually over his knee, and his beady eyes seek me out like a fucking snake.
“What are you doing here?” I ask with a trembling voice. I knew he’d come for me one day, and I was right. Not paranoid, but fucking right!
“I’ve been watching you for a while now, and I must say… You’re struggling,” he suggests, and I look down in knowing.
“I’m going to school now, working at the video store on the weekends. I’m… I’m okay,” I shrug, lying. I can’t tell you how many times I want to stab my pencil in my professor’s neck just to see it soak the papers on his desk. To slice the neck of an angry customer with the DVD that he claims is scratched and my fault.
Normal is not working, and it’s killing me slowly.
“It’s time that you return home, finish what we started,” he informs, knowing I’m lying.
“I… I don’t know,” I reply meekly, not wanting to go back. Things that happened to me under his watch haunt me to this day.
He stands, walking my way. He takes up my small living room, the smell of his cologne strong and stirring up memories that I can’t ignore.
“You’re not normal, you’re much more than that,” he whispers into my ear. Tears fill my eyes. I know I’m not normal. I seek pain rather than fun, I’m scared of human contact. I’m an animal that should be caged.
“I know,” I cry.
“Come home, Black A,” he implores, calling me my nickname. “Together we will take down Brown 5, who is now named Alessandra. She’s the one that really hurt you. Do you remember her? How she hurt you every day, wouldn’t even let you win once to have a meal.”
Clenching my eyes, I grit my teeth. How could I ever forget Brown 5. Every time I sit down to eat a meal I feel the phantom pain of her fist in my face. “You’re stronger now, you can take her and make her remember what you haven’t forgotten.”
I want to say no, but my soul doesn’t know anything else but the grudge in my heart towards the little girl that broke me. Cross is the only thing that feels… familiar. His words grounding me into submission. His cold hand clasps around my neck, reminding me of his power, and that if I don’t agree, I’ll probably die here in this shitty apartment.
“I’ll protect you, teach you the ways of being on top,” he continues. His words soothing and comforting. The ways of life he taught me more familiar than what I’m trying to achieve right now.
“Okay,” I whisper as a tear slips down my cheek. Maybe if I take down Brown 5 for once and for all, I will be able to live my life. Maybe then… my terror will release the demons that live inside my heart.
Shaking the memories that feel like just yesterday, I take a ragged breath.
It was that or be killed that day, which I pondered for a brief second. Trading this life for one six-feet-under sounded ideal. When Cross took me in a second time it was then that I realized I belonged to him. That I would never feel safe away from him, his soul was torn from the Devil himself, much l
ike mine. I was a tool in his reality and though I show a hard exterior... I’m frightened of him more than I ever was of Alessandra. Hurting, suffering, giving Cross everything I had, and it was never enough because I was never enough for him. I was the debris in the storm he was willing to destruct to save himself.
It just took me seeing myself in that cage with Alessandra to realize it. I had the power to end Alessandra but it wasn’t snuffing the pain in my heart. It was misplaced.
I need to destroy that shadow Cross projects, only then will that sliver of hope that there is something more out there for me will grow into something other than darkness and hurt.
Flicking my gaze to the door, I grit my teeth. The poison running through my veins will only be remedied by taking the source of which it came.
I won’t be giving up Cross because I’m getting out of here… and I’m killing him myself.
The lights turn on, and the sound of metal unlocking the door can be heard. My spine goes stiff and I hold the shank behind my back. Looks like I’m breaking free today.
Machete steps into the room, his arms crossed and eyes boring down at me with that same ol’ intimidating look.
“Looks like you’re awake,” he observes. I say nothing.
Stepping closer he rubs at his forehead that displays a small cut where I head-butted him. I still have a fucking headache from that.
Hunching down to my level, he flicks a brow at me. “Why are you down here on the ground?”
My eyes peek behind my fallen hair.
“This is where I belong,” I mutter in a low voice. His eyes widening from my tone. He knows something is up.
Screaming, I jerk the screwdriver out from behind my back and swing it in his direction. He falls back, the sharp tip just skimming his neck.
His bloodshot eyes go wide, his nostrils flaring with rage as he looks at me like he wants to kill me. Jumping to my feet I run at him, and a boot to my chest throws me back against the wall. I slide down to my knees, my chest burning as I drown for air. Machete suddenly appears at my side, and slowly his boot steps on my hand holding the weapon.
“You are one smart bitch,” he growls, pressing his weight into my knuckles. I close my eyes breathing through the pain, trying to hold on to the handle of the shank as long as I can. He bends down and plucks the tool from my fingers, a guttural growl vibrates my chest as my fingers are pried away from my only weapon.
“If you wanted to play with my toys, you should have just said so,” he chuckles, before pulling his foot off my sore hand.
Jumping back against the wall, I hold my bruised palm against my chest and glare at the monster before me.
“Fuck you!” I sneer.
His head is tipped down, red hair falling in his face as beautiful green eyes hit me where I sit.
“The way you intrigue me… that is a possibility, Black Beauty,” he smiles wolfishly, tucking the tool in his back pocket.
My nipples perk on their own accord hearing his infatuation. Quickly I avert my gaze and look at the chipped wall. His heated eyes too much for me to look right at.
I can’t believe I missed my target when I attacked him. I’m either really out of practice or I meant to miss him…
* * *
Sitting in the darkness, I begin to sing to keep myself company, to keep my mind off the dark. Machete bangs on the door.
“Shut up in there.”
I roll my eyes and continue to sing.
The door whips open, the harsh light blinding me.
Machete struts over to me, hovering over me like a lumberjack.
“I said shut up,” he repeats.
Tilting my head back, I pinch my brows together and continue to sing. I may sound like shit, but he’s going to have to gag me if he wants me to shut up. He flinches, and my words fade from the odd look on his face.
“How the hell are you bleeding?” Machete asks with a heated tone. I look down my arms, my body, and then notice red tingeing my panties. Fuck.
“It’s my period,” I mutter, looking between my legs. My panties are stained and the floor has droplets of dark blood. A tingling sensation starts at the back of my neck and across my face until my cheeks flush. This can’t be happening.
Machete palms his face and turns around pulling his phone out.
“Hey, we gotta a problem, brother.” He looks over his shoulder at me, then back around. I shake my head, keeping my knees together.
“She started her period and we ain’t got shit for that down here,” he informs, and my cheeks flush humiliated. Thanks, mother nature. I close my thighs trying to conceal the blood, but it’s all over my legs and bottom. Being in the dark I didn’t notice or I would have tried to clean it up myself.
Machete turns toward me, tucking his phone in his pocket.
“Do you want a rag or something?” he asks, his politeness taking me aback. It’s like he’s scared of me now or something.
“A rag?” I can’t help but laugh. What does he expect me to do with that, shove it up my vagina?
My eyes fall back down at the mess all over me and I can’t help but sigh. “I could use another shower,” I inform, looking the other way. How much more embarrassing can this get?
“We can do that,” he agrees. His tone softer than I’ve ever heard it.
Unclipping my chain from the bed, he jerks it and I follow. He stops and stands in front of the wall of pain as we pass, guarding it with an arrogant look on his.
“Just in case you get any more stupid ideas,” he smirks. I roll my eyes and head into the bathroom. He and I both know that wasn’t a stupid idea. He was just too stupid to think I wouldn’t do it.
He clips my chain to the heater again and stands tall.
“How long does this shit last?” He drifts his finger toward my bloody panties and I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Um, a few of days,” I inform with a shrug. I forgot I was even getting close to starting, not that I could have been prepared or anything.
“Terrific,” he mumbles under his breath before walking out.
I pull my stained panties off and try and wash them in hot water. I keep looking over my shoulder, nervous Machete will be standing there and see my naked ass. I grab the apple shampoo hoping it will dilute some of the blood on the crotch, but it’s not doing that great of a job. Shit.
Giving up on them, I hang them on a loose screw on the wall hoping they will dry some before I am done cleaning up.
Using my hand, I swirl the soap in my palm and start caressing my thighs to wash the blood off. It looks like a scene from Carrie, I swear. Only this could happen to me.
Machete
The main door opens and Mac walks in with two Walmart bags. I grab them from him and look inside. Two boxes of tampons, pads, some wipes, and… what the fuck is this? Feminine fresh powder? I flick a brow at him.
“What? I didn’t know what to get,” he shrugs. “So I just started grabbing crap.”
I pull out the purple pads and look them over. They’re as thick as a goddamn pillow, and they’re as long as one of Raven’s fucking legs.
“Jesus Christ, Mac,” I shake my head. You can tell we don’t have girlfriends or daughters. We are so out of our league here. Even when my ex-wife had her period, she kept that shit to herself.
“What, man, I asked a woman that was standing next to me what her flow was, she looked about the same size as Raven, and she looked at me like some kind of a pervert! I had to fucking guess!” he explains, his arms stretched out toward the bags and I have to keep from laughing.
“I’m sure something in there will work,” he huffs, before sitting down on the couch.
“Did you get ahold of Alessandra yet?” I ask, shoving everything back in the bag.
“Not yet, as soon as I got to the club, you sent me a code red call,” he jokes.
Walking into the bathroom I hand Raven the bags and she snatches them from me.
“Something in there should work,” I state. I notice th
e shower is off, and she has the towel I brought in here earlier for me to shower with, wrapped around her.
I unclip her from the heater and push her in front of me, making sure to watch her hands when walking past the table. Sneaky little bitch.
“I’m hungry,” she mumbles, as she walks past.
“Are you asking me for something?” I sneer. I’d love to play a game with her. You give me everything, and I’ll give you bread. Maybe.
“I’ll get her some toast or something,” Mac informs walking over to the counter. My eyes widen at how quickly he gave in. What the fuck? He is such a sucker for a bitch with a sexy ass.
She looks at me knowingly, as if she knew I would fuck with her but Mac is her prince fucking charming. It pisses me off, I am in control of what she has, and doesn’t have.