by A. R. Breck
This is what I live for.
Reaching behind me, I grab onto my knife from the back of my pants and bring it into his line of sight. His eyes go wide with horror and desperation. He starts mouthing off words that I can’t hear.
Is he praying?
Pointing the tip of the knife into his pointer finger, I say, “One finger for overpricing.”
I go to his middle finger. “And one for undersupplying.”
I press the blade down on both fingers, slicing through skin and bone. He screams like a banshee, bellowing out incoherent words. I’m lucky I’m in a bad spot of town. No one will be coming for him.
Leaning down, I whisper in his ear. “Quit fucking around. Next time, I take the whole hand. You got me?” I pull his hair up so our eyes are level. His foggy eyes are filled with tears, but he can see me.
He nods.
I slam his forehead into the pavement and watch as his tense body relaxes with unconsciousness. Wiping the blood on his shirt, I slip it back into its holder, pick up severed fingers, and stand up.
He’ll wake up in a while and his cries for help will eventually alert someone. They’ll come, call and ambulance, and he’ll be carted to the hospital. He’ll be patched up and won’t speak a word. Maybe he’ll trash his drugs and wallet into the dumpster so that he can make it seem like a mugging.
He won’t speak a word.
Hopping in Easton’s truck, I make my way over to the warehouse. My plan is to report to Hugo and Rich about the job, then head over to The Pit just in time to watch Easton fight. The severed fingers in my pocket wrapped in fast food napkins are just an extra touch and souvenir for the both of them.
Once I get into the city, I stop at a nearest gas station to get gas. It’s really time I get my own license and see about getting a car. Easton and Rose have been sharing her car more often so I can get places, but it’s not the most convenient when he has to pawn off his truck to me all the time.
As I pump, I glance at my surroundings. I might not be as known as Easton or Rich, but I’m still known enough that we have enemies I have to watch out for. That, and the area by The Pit gets pretty shady.
Across the street is a small strip mall, and it’s like a spotlight shines on the small baby store, illuminating the rows of cribs and baby gear in the front window. Without a second thought, I put the pump back and hop into the truck, speeding across the street to the baby store. Shifting into park, I head out and enter the store, immediately tensing up at the bright colors and soft music playing.
Shit. I do not belong here.
But there’s another part of me that feels a twinge in my hardened heart at the tiny clothes and the baby blankets. I haven’t really looked at baby stuff since Wren. It gives me whiplash. I do a double take at just about every item in the store.
Holy fuck. I’m really having a baby.
I wander in, eyes glowing with wonder and nerves as I walk straight for the baby boy section. Blues and yellows and greens spread out in front of me in all different sizes. I can barely remember a baby being as small as some of these clothes are. Is my baby going to be this small?
Is it going to have blonde hair, like Logan’s?
Or dark hair, like mine?
Unease hits me on the baby coming out with blue eyes and blonde hair, a baby version of my best friend staring back at me.
Would I be able to take care of it?
I want to say yes, but when the moment comes, I’m afraid I won’t be able to.
“Hi, can I help you with something?” I whip around at the dainty voice, seeing a shocked looking saleswoman standing behind me. She cowers at my scowl, fear dripping into her gaze. “S-sorry. Is there something I can help you with?”
I stare at her for so long I can see a bubble of sweat appear on her temple. She wipes it away. “O-okay. I’ll be over there if you need anything.” She points over her shoulder and scurries behind the register. I can feel her eyes on me, boring into me. Like she’s worried I’ll rob the place. Maybe kidnap her and sell her into a trafficking ring.
I can feel her on her toes, ready to bolt if need be.
I go back to my browsing. I don’t even notice I’ve got an arm full of clothing until my phone rings. I go to pull my phone out of my pocket and run into a mountain of clothes.
“What the… what the fuck?” I look down, shocked at how many things I’ve grabbed. I shift it around to one arm and grab my phone, seeing Easton’s name flash on the screen.
“Sssssshit.” I accept the call and put it up to my ear. “Yeah?”
“Where are you? I’m going to up there soon.” Loud noises drown his voice out, and I know I’m seriously fucking late.
“Shit. I just… lost track of time. Is Cara and Rose there?”
“Yeah, where are you?” He asks again. I look around. No fucking way I’m telling him I’m shopping for baby shit.
“I’m on my way to the office. I’ll be a little late, but I’ll be right there.”
“Hurry… Cara looks pissed.”
I groan as I hang up. Glancing up, I see the tiny saleswoman still staring at me in fear, and I raise my arm to tell her to come over here. She flinches all the way across the store.
Seriously, she flinches.
I lift my eyebrows, waving her over again.
That gets her going. She snaps out of her haze of fear, walking around the register and speeding my way. “Yes?” Her shaky voice almost makes me crack a smile. Almost.
“Here.” I dump the pile of clothes into her arms. “I’ll be back for these in a few hours.”
“Um, okay…” She struggles to hold onto everything in her tiny arms.
“Can you also get a crib, car seat, and whatever else a baby needs? I need to go, but I’ll be back to pick everything up soon.” I start walking towards the door without another word.
“Wait!” I turn around. “I don’t know what you want. What kind of crib? What kind of car seat?”
I sigh. I didn’t think of that. I bet there’s at least a hundred brands to choose from. “The safest one you got.”
Her eyes soften a bit at that, and I take that as my cue and head out.
Arriving at the warehouse, I park right in the front and head straight for Rich’s office. Knocking on the door, I hear Hugo’s voice grumble moments before the door opens. “How’d it go?” He says, opening the door for me to come in.
Rich sits behind his desk, and he looks me over when I walk in. “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry. I was sidetracked. Everything went well, though.” I reach into my pocket for the napkin covered fingers.
Shit, if only the saleswoman would have known I had severed fingers in my pocket. I bet she would have loved that.
I set them on Rich’s desk, and he reaches over, peeling back the napkin and seeing the bloodied fingers.
“Very good.” Rich says. “He’s still alive?”
“Was when I left him.”
Rich picks up the napkin and hands it to Hugo.
“I’m glad you pulled through tonight, Jackson. I see your determination to succeed in this business. I’m proud of you.”
I freeze. My breathing picks up as I stare at Rich. I’ve never in my entire life been told someone is proud of me. It’s a weird feeling. A warmness spreads through my chest and reddens my cheeks.I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. It makes me uncomfortable, being appraised and accepted for being me and doing what I enjoy.
“I’ve got to go.” I finally get out after a few awkward moments of silence.
“Jackson.” Rich barks my name as I’m halfway out the door.
I turn around with my eyebrows raised.
“Have you seen your father lately?”
My brow furrows. “No.” Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him all week. I don’t think he’s been home at all, but I figured he might be out of town for work or something.
Rich frowns. “Let me know if get ahold of him, would you?”
“Yes,
sir.” I nod my head at him and head out.
Easton is going to kill me.
25
Jackson
When I arrive at the pit, I swear under my breath when I see the fight has just ended. People are screaming as Easton stands over the other fighter, unconscious and laying on his stomach. Blood is splattered on his face as he looks over the crowd, his gaze eventually ending on Rose. He looks just as much of a Reaper as people make him out to be.
He’s a savage.
I look for Cara, and spot her standing beside Rose with an unhappy expression on her face. She looks pissed, actually. Dressed in a Nike hoodie and black leggings, she looks like the sexiest woman in the entire place. Even with her messy ponytail and makeup free face, she’s every bit of tomboy that she’s always been.
She’s fuckin’ bangin’.
The crowd starts disbursing, some of them leaving all together while others head over to the bar. I wait for Rose and Cara to get into view and then make my way towards them.
When Cara spots me, she scowls. “Where have you been?”
“I was tied up at work. Sorry.” I grab onto her wrist and haul her to me. “Don’t be mad.”
“I am mad. You told me you were going to be here.” Even with her being mad, she still burrows into me.
I squeeze her, apologizing without saying the words.
When I hear girls start screaming, I immediately know Easton is on his way out. “There you are.” He says as he approaches. “How did it go?”
I release Cara and watch as her and Rose go over to our usual spot.
“Fine. He’s a pisser.” My lip tips up at the corner, and I almost laugh when Easton chest shakes with laughter.
“Shit. Wish I could’ve been there.”
“Nah. It was good. Good to do one on my own.”
Easton pulls a joint out of his pocket. “I rolled this up before the fight. Let’s go smoke and chill out a bit. It’s been a fucking long time since we’ve all been here.”
Hell yes. A smoke is just what I need right now.
We walk over to the girls and sit down in the lounge chair, sparking up the J and spending the next few hours relaxing.
It’s easier when the crowd thins out. When people stop buzzing around Easton and wanting a chance to be with the Reaper. You think it would’ve calmed down a bit when he and Rose started getting serious, but if anything, they’ve gotten crazier. Seeing him tied down and attached to someone, they want it. They want him.
Shit’s annoying, mostly when the brazen slutty girls start flaunting their shit at us. We used to be into that, but not so much anymore.
“Jackson, can you take me home now?” Cara says from the chair next to me, feet propped up on my lap. She’s curled on her side, hands cupped together and used as a pillow under her head. She’s falling asleep, which I’m not surprised of. She’s been going to sleep so early these last few months because of the pregnancy.
“Yeah, I’ll take you.” I pick up her feet and set them on the floor. Standing up, I stretch and look over at Easton. “You guys going to head out?”
“Yeah, we’re going to go. Why don’t me and Rose go get the cars. I need to get some shit from the backseat of the truck.”
“Cool.” I reach into my pocket and toss the keys to Easton. He grabs them, and him and Rose head out to get the cars.
I walk over to Cara and bend down. “How are you feeling?”
She shrugs. “Really uncomfortable today. I think it’s because I’m moving so much. I want to go home and lay down.”
“Did you think about what I said the other night? About the baby?” I lay my hand on my stomach, and warmth spreads into my fingers, up my arm, and throughout my body.
Cara looks up at me. “I did, and—”
The door bangs open and I whip my head around, surprise moving through me when I see my dad walk in. No, not walk. Stumble.
“Jackson!” He roars, laying his eyes on me. Embarrassment fills me at his slurring tone. Is he drunk?
Cara sits up straight, looking over at me with wide eyes.
“Stay here.” I growl.
Walking off, I start walking down the back hallway. Away from Cara. Away from the remaining people who were too drunk to notice him walk in, but not enough to watch on as stuff goes down.
And by the tension filling the room, I can tell something’s about to happen.
I can hear him stumbling behind me. Getting closer. Mumbling under his breath. It feels like I’m being constricted from the inside. Anxiety slithers in like a snake and wraps around my throat. A vice constricting everything inside of me and squeezing tight.
When we’re around the corner, I turn around and face him. My dad. “What’re you doing here, Dad?”
He sneers at me, alcohol on his breath, but the way his body is trembling makes me think there’s something else running through his body, too.
“What have you been doin’, boy? Livin’ your regular old life, huh? You don’t give a shit that your mom died, do ya?”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re a murderer. I should’ve told everyone when we moved here about you. You kill your momma, and you kill your sister. You make me sick.” He spits at my feet, and my face flames red.
“I didn’t kill Mom.” I seethe. If he only could realize that he was the reason for their deaths. For both of their deaths.
He comes toe to toe with me, spittle flying out the corners of his mouth. “You are a stupid piece of shit. I should’ve left you in the closet to rot with the piss covered carpets.”
I take a step back from him. I’m not scared of him, I just don’t want to kill him. And the rage that’s filling up in me is like a bucket ready to be tipped over.
“Go home, old man. Go the fuck home.”
“You better watch your tone with me, boy. You think now that you’re an adult you get to order me around? You better think again.”
I bite my lip, sinking into the skin and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. “I’m outta here.” He can belittle me and try to fuck with me all he wants at home. Here, in front of Cara and in the place where I feel safest, I’m not going to let him get to me. He can fuck right off.
I walk around him, ignoring his threats and ramblings of bullshit.
Then a lancing pain shoots through my skull. I fall into the wall, my hand going up to my skull. I turn around and see my dad standing there with the butt of his knife raised to my head.
“Don’t walk away from me, boy. I’m not done talking to you!” His face turns purple in rage.
“I’m not doing this shit here. Go home!” I roar.
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!” He sends the butt of the knife into my forehead. Darkness flashes in my gaze. My vision goes in and out. I can feel the warm drip of blood trailing down my temple, and my chest seizes.
He’s lost his mind.
“You’re a murderer!” He bellows.
This time he uses his fist, doing his classic punch in my side.
Oomph.
“Stop, you fucking bastard!” I shout, shoving him out of my way. He stumbles back into the other wall, almost tripping over his own feet. Righting himself, he stands up straight and points his knife towards me.
“I wish your mother would have aborted you! You’re a waste of a human!”
He uses his knife, blade out, and tries to get my face. I lean back, but the blade still swipes my face. Stinging pain shoots through my cheek and I look at him with wide eyes.
This motherfucker is trying to kill me.
26
Cara
When I hear a shout coming from the direction Jackson and his dad went, I nearly jump out of my skin. I look around, hoping for Easton or anyone of the regulars that I know who can go back there to make sure everything is okay.
No one.
On shaky, exhausted legs, I come to a stand. I hesitate for a moment, but when I hear another noise, I know I can’t wait any longer.
Something in the deep part of my gut is telling me Jackson needs me right now.
As quietly as possible, I walk down the hall. The sounds get louder the closer I get. Sounds of shuffling and grunting signal just what I was afraid of.
They’re fighting.
When they come into view, I see Jackson on the ground with his dad laying over him, brutally attacking him. Fist after fist.
I gasp audibly because there’s blood on the floor and I’m worried that it’s Jackson’s.
His dad is on top of him in a worn white shirt and dirty jeans, like he’s been wearing the same clothes for the last week.
I’ve never seen him this… worn.
His dad doesn’t notice me, but Jackson does. His swollen face which has only recently healed from the last altercation, is covered in bruises and blood trails down his face.
There’s fear in his eyes, and I’m not sure if it’s directed at me or if he’s worried about himself. I hear a scrape and look down, seeing Jackson’s knife in front of me.
My heart stops. What am I supposed to do with this?
The pleading in Jackson’s eyes gives me courage, and I bend down to pick up the knife with shaky hands.
I can’t do this.
His dad grunts as he keeps hitting him, so zoned in with hurting his son—absolutely destroying him—that he doesn’t notice someone right in front of him.
When his dad does a particularly hard swing, Jackson’s head flies to the side. A tooth flies out of his mouth, and blood splats to the ground like oversized rain drops.
My stomach turns, but I rush forward with the knife.
His dad notices me at the last second, but it’s too late. I plunge the knife into his chest, as deep as it can go. It feels weird, the knife sinking through skin and muscle. Unlike anything you can imagine it would be like.
His eyes go wide, then fill with anger.
“S-slut.” He grunts. “You’ll have a bastard baby, just like his father.” Then the worst possible pain in my lower belly. Throbbing, sharp pain makes me gasp and curl over. My eyes fly down, and I see Jackson’s dad falling backwards, the knife plunged into my stomach sliding out with his fall. It feels like this is all happening in slow motion.