“Hey,” Jax calls from behind me. Reaching up, he grasps my arm, spinning me on the spot. His other arm encases me tightly as he pulls my body close to his.
“It’s only polite to say goodbye, you know.” The corner of his mouth lifts until he smiles sexily at me.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” I smile apologetically.
Leaning down, he places a soft lingering kiss on my lips, and I can’t help but feel elated and horrified all at the same time. I’m standing in the middle of the parking lot, being held up by one of the most notorious twins in town, and honestly, that scares the shit out of me. I pull back, suddenly wondering what I got myself in to.
“I’m not sure that was such a good idea,” I whisper, tracing my finger against my lip where his had been.
“Why… what does that mean?” he asks; his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed.
“People ask questions, Jax. People talk.”
“Oh, so you’re worried what people are going to say to you. About me?”
“No, not just about you. They are going to want to know how the hell I suddenly know the Blackheart twins. I was hoping to keep my change in circumstances on the down low if you get me?”
“Too much, too soon?” he asks, loosening his grip and taking a small step back.
“A little.” I tear my eyes away from him, letting them drop to the ground as I shuffle one foot against the wet ground.
“Go. Have a great day at school.” He rubs the top of my arm tenderly. My eyes drift back up to him, folding my lips between my teeth before mouthing my apology to him.
“Kailee,” Cady shouts once more, and I snap my head in her direction, offering a small wave.
“See you later,” I say awkwardly before turning and rushing toward Cady and Lina. They’re standing under a tree for shelter from the rain. I dash over, throwing my bag over my shoulder, and link my arms through theirs.
“What the hell, Kailee?” Lina’s eyes bug out, and her mouth is slack.
“Let’s get inside.” I blink down, trying to clear the rain from my eyes. We speed up our pace, quickly making our way inside. I shake off the excess rainwater as we make our way down the hallway.
“That was a really bad idea.” Lina leans into me, whispering in my ear.
“Tell me about it. I had this crazy idea he’d just drop me off. I had no idea he was going to get out and kiss me.”
“Uh-huh, totally bad idea,” she repeats. “But I have to say, Kay, he’s freaking hot. And that body. Even though he had clothes on, my mind was totally picturing him without.”
“Oh god,” I say, laughing. “Stop.”
“I mean this whole situation is the pits, but let’s face it, Kay, that is one tiny little cherry to stick on top of your shit sandwich. If anything can make the shitty situation you’re in better, it’s that guy,” she says suggestively with a lift of her brow.
I laugh at Lina. She’s always been the ditzy joker of our little trio. I walk over to my locker, opening it and grabbing what I need for the classes I have this morning.
I close the locker door, dropping my back against it. “But what if people saw?” I let out a huge sigh.
“Oh, people most definitely saw. You can’t just rock up with a Blackheart and expect no one to notice. I think the whole damn swim team saw. Oh, and that bitch Carman and her whole cheerleading squad. I swear their mouths hung so wide open.”
“Oh god,” I whine. “Of all the people.” Carman is the most popular girl at our entire school. Her family is filthy rich; she’s beautiful and annoyingly intelligent. She’s the sort of girl you hate but admire at the same time. She oozes confidence, something I’ve never had a great deal of. And she’s not afraid to flaunt it—to use people’s weaknesses against them—all to make her look better than everyone else.
“It will be fine,” Cady interjects, throwing her arm loosely around my shoulders. “I’d be surprised if she has the balls to say anything. She probably fears the backlash from the twins.”
“I guess.” I turn sideways, giving her what is an attempt at a smile.
“Let’s get to class. But you have to promise me something…” Her words trail off.
“What’s that?” I ask, tilting my head.
“That you are going to tell me all the juicy details about that freaking hottie,” she whispers, and a low chuckle escapes her.
Jax
“How’s the arm?”
Ryder narrows his eyes at me. “Quit asking about my fucking arm,” he grumbles.
“Okay, how're the ribs?”
“Oh, fuck off, Jax. I’m good to go. You know I need this fight.”
“You don’t need this fight, Ryder. Mom does.” I glare at him; the hatred I have for my mother runs deep.
“I’m not just going to sit back and let the goddamn bills build up. She needs medical care, Jax.”
He speaks like he’s pleading with me. The truth is I don’t understand my brother’s loyalty to the bitch who stood back and let my father do so many despicable things to me. To us. She gave us pathetic excuses about being so scared she couldn’t leave him. But isn’t that what parents do? Care for and protect their babies no matter what? Put their children before their own selfish needs.
“She’s dying, Jax. I really think it would be a good move to have Kailee there with her. I’m scared something is going to happen to her, and I won’t be there.”
But I don’t care. In my mind, she’s getting everything she deserves. Every bit of pain inflicted on us, she’s feeling. And it gives me some sense of satisfaction.
I can’t say it out loud. For as much as I don’t understand my brother’s fucked-up love for that woman, I don’t want to hurt him or cause a rift between us.
If it wasn’t for Ryder, I’d be dead now.
He saved me.
He stopped the abuse and torture. Just at the right time.
Eleven years earlier –
We’re not like the kids at school. I’ve been with Ryder all afternoon at the gym; Dad’s trainer has been working with Ry, getting him ready to fight. Big bucks are in it for Dad if Ryder fights in this illegal under-eighteen fight, and Ryder is pumped. I train with him, but I have no passion for fighting; that passion is all Ryder’s. He’s the crazy fist boy, not me. I fight when I need to—as a necessity—and not because I get enjoyment from it. And I just know I’m a disappointment to Dad. He tells me often enough.
Ryder has always been the favorite, the one who never disappoints.
We pull up outside, stepping out of the car, gym bags in hand. As we walk up the small driveway, I can hear Mom screaming and my father’s voice as he yells, his words a slur.
“Great. Dad’s drunk, again.” I put my hand on Ryder’s arm, pulling him to an eventual stop.
“I can’t do this,” I say; my voice wavers, and I’m petrified to enter. I just know he will make a beeline for me. It’s gotten worse, and I’m not sure I can take anymore. I don’t want to admit to Ryder how fucking scared I feel, how ferociously my heart pounds as the fear soars through me. He’s always so strong; Ryder doesn’t seem to fear Dad in the same way I do. He doesn’t bear the same scars.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he says in a low voice. “Show him you’re not scared. Fight back, Jax.”
But I am scared. Yeah, we’ve done some crazy shit as kids, but the one person who has that control over me, the one person who never fails to scare me is him.
Dad.
I skulk in behind Ryder, hoping that Dad will be too drunk to notice me and that Ryder will be the distraction I need to get away from him today.
“Here he is.” Dad throws out his wavering arm, welcoming Ryder. “How did the training go, my boy?” He tries to speak clearly, but despite his attempts, his words slur.
“Good, Dad. It was good,” Ryder answers, his voice upbeat, and Dad seems pleased.
“And what about you, Jax? Have you grown a pair yet? Got that pussy ass of yours into the ring yet?”
He laughs menacingly, and the rage boils inside me. My eyes flit up to Ryder. He shakes his head subtly, and I know not to answer.
“Ryder looked good today, Dad.” I try to smile. “I was helping him train.”
“Helping him how?” His face hardens, and he scowls at me, the lines in his forehead deepening.
“Dad,” Ryder intervenes, “Jax did good today. He helps me focus. Gives me encouragement.”
Dad's attention switches to Ryder, so I slide past him, walking into the living area. I need to get away.
“Well, that fucking pussy you call your brother needs to get his ass into the ring and earn money. Fucking pussy,” he roars at me. Within a second, he’s on my heel, and I freeze to the spot. Before I can comprehend what is happening, his hand lands on my throat, and my body is thrust back against the wall. I can hear voices yelling, my mother screeching something so loud, but I can’t make out what she says. My vision blurs and my head bangs as his hand around my neck tightens. Even as drunk as he is, he overpowers me easily.
“Dad, let go,” I hear Ryder roar as his hand lands around Dad’s to try to loosen his grip.
Dad swings at Ryder, connecting with his nose and knocking him to the ground.
“We will make a man of you yet, you goddamn motherfucking pussy.” He removes his hand from around my neck, and I instantly place mine there, trying to breathe deeply. It felt like he crushed my windpipe. His hands land on the back of my shirt, and I’m somehow moving; I’m being dragged. I hit Dad’s arm to get him to let go, in an attempt to escape. But I can’t. I’m weak and still struggling to breathe. My hits are weak attempts at best, and Dad snarls at me.
“You even hit like a fucking girl.”
“Stop,” I try to shout, but it sounds more like a screech.
“Is that the best ya got? Stop, Daddy, please no,” he mocks with an evil grin.
I’m at the top of the stairs being pushed into Mom and Dad’s room, a room where we’ve never been allowed. A room that, until now, has always been off-limits.
“Sit there.” He throws me on the bed, turning and slamming the door shut. He reaches up, flipping the latch and locking the door from the inside.
I sit on the end of the messy bed; all the covers are messed up like someone just stepped out of it. My whole body shakes, my shoulders slump, and my hands cradle my neck. I will my breathing to steady, to return to normal. But it doesn’t. It’s not working. I feel sick, so sick to the pit of my stomach.
“You’ve fucked girls, right?” he asks, standing in front of me, grabbing a handful of my hair roughly and tilting my head back.
I shrug my shoulders, not sure what he wants me to say. Whether yes is the right answer or if he wants me to say no.
“I-I-I…” My words come out all a stutter.
“Well, fucking answer me. Have you or haven’t you?”
“No,” I cry out.
“But you like to be touched, don’t you?” His voice has become a whisper; his hand rubs over my limp cock, and I thrust out my hands in an attempt to get him away. I shudder as the bile stings the back of my throat.
He falls to the floor, and I scramble back up the bed; the adrenaline pounds through my body, but the fear makes me weak. Every part of me shakes. Dad’s hands land on the end of the bed, and he pulls himself up from the floor. He turns his back to me, grabbing the remote; he flicks on the old-style television. He reaches up to the wooden shelf, grabbing an old VHS, and pushes it into the VCR.
“You need to learn an important lesson, boy. It’s time to become a man.” My eyes flit to the door, and I almost contemplate jumping down and racing over. But I know I won’t make it in time. He opens the drawer, reaching inside. He turns to me, my eyes widening at the sight of the Glock in his hand. He points it at me, walking slowly around the bed.
“Take them off,” he whispers. His voice is quiet, but I know it’s not a request.
“No fucking way,” I yell, finally finding my voice.
He steps closer, pressing the end of the gun against my temple. “Fucking do it,” he growls.
Tears sting my eyes and anger fills me. I am the fucking pussy he says I am. Sitting here, I can’t seem to control my ragged emotions. My chest heaves as my hand shakily reaches for the band of my sweatpants. Dad presses the gun harder against my head.
“Hurry the fuck up,” he snaps. I jump at his growl, quickly pushing down my sweatpants, taking my underwear with them.
“Better.” He grins, his eyes traveling from my face down to my dick.
“We need to work on that.” He nods toward my limp dick. He turns, making his way back over to the TV. Clicking the remote, the room suddenly fills with ear piercing moans. The porn on the screen plays out noisily. I snap my eyes away in embarrassment.
“Masturbate,” he snarls. “I need you hard.”
“Dad, please. I can’t.” I find myself begging, pleading with him not to make me do this.
“You can’t touch your own dick. What? You need me to do that for you too?”
“No. It’s just this. It’s not right,” I say nervously, my voice trembling.
“No, it’s not right. It’s not right that my sixteen-year-old son acts more like a fucking girl than he does a boy. You need to do as I say for once in your damn life.” He thrusts the gun toward my face again, this time holding it against my forehead. “Go on… touch yourself.” He applies more pressure to my forehead. “Now.” His eyes widen, and I’m sure I see a glint of excitement.
Sick fuck.
I close my eyes, desperately fighting back the tears that I know would make this situation worse. I allow my head to drop back, trying to block him out and focus on the noises coming from the television set.
I start to stroke, pleasuring myself, imagining naked girls touching themselves. It’s my go-to place when I feel like getting off. The more I stroke, the more I imagine the girls, and the more turned on I get. My cock stiffens in my hands.
Dad whispers something, but I’m working so hard to block him out that I don’t register his words. My eyes fly open at the feel of his hand suddenly wrapped around mine.
“No fucking way,” I yell. I use every ounce of energy I have to push him away. Standing up from the bed, I pull up my pants. “Don’t you fucking touch me.” I scream so loud the force stings the back of my throat.
“You’ll do as I fucking say, pussy boy.” He stands opposite me, on the other side of the bed, pointing the gun at me.
A loud bang at the door interrupts us. “Jax, are you in there?” calls Ryder, pounding his fist against the door over and over.
“This does not concern you,” Dad warns, charging at me and grabbing me by the hair.
“I didn’t say we were done yet, motherfucker,” he growls in my ear before throwing me back on the bed.
“Get off! Get away from me,” I scream as loud as possible. He has me pinned to the bed with one hand while the other tugs at my pants. I notice the gun on the bed beside him. I try to fight him of and reach my foot down, hoping to get the gun.
But I don’t.
The banging on the door continues.
My head feels like it’s about to explode.
Dad's hands are on me, and I can’t fight him off.
The bangs against the door intensify, and the door flies open. My eyes meet Ryder’s. They appear to change from emerald green to the darkest color imaginable.
“Get your fucking hands off him,” Ryder snarls at Dad.
Dad turns his head slowly, an evil grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“What’s wrong Ryder… jealous?”
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare…” he says. Charging toward him, he knocks him flying from the bed onto the floor. They roll around, and Ryder’s hands grip tightly around his throat. I jump from the bed and grab the gun, which has fallen to the floor in the scuffle. I pick it up; my shaking hand struggles to grip it, and it shakes as I hold it in both hands. I race around, not sure what I’m going to
do with this damn gun, but I sure as hell have to do something. I can’t let Dad hurt Ryder. No fucking way. I stop in my tracks, watching Ryder thrust Dad’s head against the floor.
“You sick fucking motherfucker. How can you do that to him? How?” he screams, and the veins in his throat swell.
“Get… off… me,” Dad struggles out.
“I’m going to kill you. I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done. But most of all, I’m going to make you suffer.”
Dad suddenly struggles for breath. Ryder slows his rhythm, and Dad clutches his chest.
“My… chest… can’t breathe…” His words trail off. Dad starts to writhe, and his face contorts with pain.
“Pass me the gun,” Ryder instructs, holding out his hand. I lean forward, offering him the gun. “I want to make sure this isn’t some sort of game the sick fuck is playing.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, watching as Ryder releases his hold on my father, stepping up and standing beside me. “What’s happening to him?” I ask, confused as hell.
Ryders stance changes. His muscles relax, and I’m pretty sure he has a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Heart attack,” Ryder answers, the faint smile spreads slowly across his face. He crosses his arms, his eyes glued to my dad.
“Should we do something?” I ask with concern. I’m not sure how I feel about just standing here, not doing anything.
“Yeah, we should.”
“What?” I reply quickly.
“Shut the fuck up and watch nature do its thing.”
So we do.
And I like it. I like seeing the life being sucked out of the man who made my whole childhood a fucking living nightmare.
We stand there, emotionless, watching our father take his final breaths.
I snap from my thoughts, from the memories that never leave my mind.
I owe Ryder my life.
Kailee
The edge of life: Official cover - coming soon Page 11