The Broken Puppet

by Amo Jones

  “I won’t fucking hurt you!”

  “Lies!” he yells back. “I know when you’re lying, because you add a ‘fucking’ in the middle. Tell me the truth!”

  Exhaling in defeat, I open my mouth, just about to surrender, when I see my bathroom door open. Grinning, I slowly step backward. “Okay, I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?” Silently, I step into the bathroom, slide over to his door, and twist the handle open. It’s unlocked. Grinning from my cleverness, I pull the door open, but my face falls instantly.

  “Going somewhere?” Bishop is standing in front of me, shirtless with those ripped jeans on. He basically just walked right out of my dream. Life is not fair and the universe obviously fucking hates me.

  “I-uh…” I look around the room, hitching my thumb over my shoulder. “…am just going to go.” I spin around and start to run back toward my room, but Bishop hooks his arm around my waist, lifting me off the ground and throwing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.

  “Bishop!” I yell. “Put me the fuck down!”

  “Ah, see… you put a ‘fuck’ in there. You must be mad.” He slaps my ass cheek, the sting vibrating over my skin. “Calm yourself, woman!”

  “I hate you!” I shriek, just as he throws me onto my bed. The morning sun glaring through my porch windows catches his messy bed hair. The chestnut brown color sets off the contrast of his tanned skin.

  His eyes turn almost black. “Yeah? Well, I don’t give a fuck. You’ve hated me for so long now.”

  “This is different!” I shout back, suddenly angry at him.

  “What?” He matches my level of loud. Spreading his arms out, he smirks. “How? How is this different?”

  “You let Saint fuck me and Nate go down on me!” I scream, tears suddenly slipping down my cheeks. Jesus. When did I become such a girl? I make a mental note to check the dates, because I must be due for Mother Nature’s visit. There’s no way I’m this much of a pussy-ass bitch.

  Bishop stops. His eyes look straight into mine, commanding the entire room while summoning my fucking soul. Because that’s what he does. When his stance changes to this one—one I’ve only seen twice now—he stares into my eyes and summons my soul. But with my soul come my demons, and I think that’s the part he’s only just figuring out.

  “Come again,” he growls softly. Too softly.

  I shiver in fear, because I should be fucking scared. Every survival instinct the human body has is on high alert within me right now. Run. I should run. But I can’t, because he’s fucking summoned me. Because—

  “Madison,” he repeats in the same tone, cocks his head a little, and slowly walks toward the foot of my bed. “Repeat what you just said, and think very carefully about your next words, because my fingers are twitching to snap some necks…” He pauses, breaking our eye contact and glaring right at my throat. “…and yours is looking rather snapable too.”

  Oh shit.

  “Okay, hang on.” I stand up from the bed, feeling more confident on my feet. “I meant that—” He pushes me back down onto the bed. “Bishop!” I yell, propping myself up on my elbows and looking up at him.

  “Did any of them touch you?”

  “Bishop—”

  He grips onto my leg and pushes me up my bed, stepping between my thighs. “Don’t, Madison. Don’t fuck with this.”

  “I meant it was—”

  He presses his lips to the crook of my neck and bites down on it roughly.

  “Was what?” he asks, his voice vibrating against my skin as his other hand comes up to my throat. His thumb caresses my jawline gently as he kisses and licks all over my neck. Biting down on my bottom lip to fight a moan, I close my eyes, but then he presses his dick into me, and I lose it.

  “Was a fucking dream!” I yell, still slightly angry at him.

  He stops, pauses, and settles his face into my neck. Seconds pass when I feel his body jerking on top of me.

  Narrowing my eyes, I slap him in the ribs. “Are you fucking laughing?”

  Then he bursts into fits of laughter, rolling onto his back while clutching his stomach. “Fuck.”

  I’m staring at him, confused and annoyed, and just when I’m about to hit him again, I realize this is the first time I’ve ever seen Bishop laugh. Or even smile this big. Or just smile without there being an ulterior motive behind it.

  Before I can stop myself, I giggle. “Stop laughing. It’s not funny.”

  He slams his mouth closed as he tries to contain his fit, and then he looks to me, his eyes dancing with humor. “Sorry, babe. But that’s fucking hilarious. You getting mad at me over a dream.”

  “Stop. It was more than that, and it felt like….”

  He hooks his arm around my waist, lifts me up, and puts me on top of him so I’m straddling his waist. Placing his arms behind his head, he stares at me, so I look away, scared he’ll summon some more of my soul and never give it back. “Hey,” he whispers. “Look at me.”

  I shake my head. “I sort of don’t want to.”

  “Why?” he whispers again, and I know in his tone that he’s being honest.

  “Because.”

  “Because why, Madison?”

  “Because you steal some of my soul every time you do that thing with your eyes.”

  He slams his mouth closed again, his stomach jerking beneath me.

  Oh no he is—

  “Are you laughing at me again?” My eyes snap to his and he bursts out laughing once more. I go to get off him when he grabs me around the waist again and pulls me down so my lips are within an inch of his. “Hey,” he repeats, his warm breath falling over my lips. “Look at me.”

  Knowing he will never let up, I look at him. I mean, eyes a little crossed, front row seating, soul clenching, really look at him, and my heart launches in my chest. That’s what needs to get summoned… right the fuck out of my body.

  “What?” I meant for my tone to be harsher than what it is when it comes out.

  “I’d never fucking share you. Period. Yes, we fuck around a bit, but the boys know there’s a line when it comes to you, and if any of them cross it, I have no problem being a King short.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. He can’t mean that. We fight so much; he’s never told me how he’s felt—only maybe once before, outside my house—but I never know when he’s being truly sincere, because everything is always a game. And I usually always lose. This, though, the way he’s looking at me and how he’s talking to me, it’s putting dents in my solid plan to get revenge.

  “I know what you’re doing.” His fingers dig into my hips.

  “Oh?” I ask, pushing off his chest so I’m sitting on him properly. “And what exactly is that?”

  He smirks. “You wanted to get revenge on me. On all of us. Hell, I knew that a long time ago. Why do you think I never came to get you back from overseas when I could have?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you think I didn’t know you were in New Zealand? That you used to sit at that little black table and draw for the tattoo artist, Jesse? That you started having a little thing for him? I knew everything, Madison. There wasn’t a second when you weren’t under my protection.”

  I blink, and try to gather enough coherent thoughts to ask some questions.

  “How? But why didn’t you get me then?”

  “There was stuff going on here that needed to be cleaned up, and you needed to calm down. I would’ve rather had you out of the US while everything was getting sorted.”

  “Did it get sorted?” I ask, wiggling up his body so I’m away from his dick.

  “No.” He pushes me back down so now I’m directly on top of it.

  Shit.

  “So why did you bring me back?” I try to shuffle off, annoyed at how horny it makes me with him pressed against me like that. And aside from the fact I am angry about that dream, it turned me on the same.

  He pulls down on me, hard enough for me to hiss. Narrowing his eyes, his other hand comes up, and he h
ooks his finger under my chin, tilting my head up. “Someone touched what is mine. That’s what the fuck happened.”

  “You say that, yet you don’t tell me what ‘we’ are, or anything.”

  “A label? You want a label?”

  “No!” I shake my head. Exhaling, I get off his lap, and he lets me. “I don’t know what I want, but I know I want you.”

  “Well fuck the rest of it. That’s all that matters.”

  “But what does this mean?” I ask, gesturing between the two of us, my girl brain ticking at a hundred miles an hour.

  “It means you’re mine. That’s all that means.”

  “And… what about you?” I laugh sarcastically. “If you think I’m going to watch as you go around—”

  “Have you ever seen me be a slut?”

  “I’ve seen you touch one,” I mutter under my breath, remembering him and Ally. My tone is 100 percent salty and not a single fuck is given.

  He doesn’t reply, so I look up at him. He’s standing in front of me, his knees leaning against the mattress of my bed. Bending down, he spreads my legs open and steps between them. Leaning down, he runs his lips over mine. “And she’s dead. So I’ll ask you again, have you seen me be a slut?”

  The way he talks about Ally being dead—and the fact he’s the one who killed her—should upset me, but it doesn’t. I don’t know why he did it. Hell, I don’t even understand what Ally could have done to deserve being knocked off. But for some crazy reason, I don’t care.

  “No.” I shake my head slowly, and he leans down again, pressing a kiss against my lips. My bedroom door swings open. “So, that was—” Nate stops, and Bishop smiles against my lips before stepping backward. “Did I interrupt something?”

  “Go away. Please go away,” I laugh at Nate.

  “Well now, you’ve just made it more exciting for me to stay.” He walks in and sits beside me on my bed, a Cheshire grin on his face.

  “Motherfucker.”

  His grin deepens.

  “I’ve got shit to sort anyway. I’ll see you at school,” Bishop announces, looking at me briefly before walking out the door, back into Nate’s room.

  “Put a shirt on!” I yell toward his retreating back, and he chuckles slightly, closing the door behind him.

  “So!” Nate turns to me, putting his hands together like a little girl excited that she just got invited to a sleepover. “Tell me all the goss’!”

  “Fuck you.” I roll my eyes and get off the bed.

  His shoulders sag. “You’re no fun.”

  I walk into my closet and flick the light on. “Let’s just say,” I murmur, scanning through my skinny jeans, “he’s finally claimed me.” I settle for the black ones with rips in the knees. Pulling down a tight, V-neck, long-sleeved shirt, I turn to face Nate when he’s silent.

  He’s smiling. Like I knew he would be. “He claimed you that first day you walked into Riverside, Kitty. You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

  Removing my clothes, I tug on my jeans… then tug some more, because apparently I’ve put on weight, and then button them up. “No, but it’s… I don’t know… different now. There’s so many layers to Bishop. I never know when he’s actually being truthful.” Throwing on my shirt, I pull my hair out of the back and fluff it up.

  “Well…” Nate begins, standing from the bed and walking toward me. “When it comes to real shit, I mean shit he cares about—which is pretty much nothing, aside from you—you’re safe. I can vouch for that, Kitty.” He pulls some loose strands out from under my shirt. “He won’t hurt you.”

  “Promise?” I ask, looking into his eyes.

  Nate nods. “I promise.”

  UNLOCKING MY TRUCK, I SLIDE into the driver seat, as Nate gets into the passenger, deciding he doesn’t want to drive today. “How’s Daemon?” he asks, pushing buttons on the radio.

  “He’s okay. Katsia wants him back and is demanding a meeting with him, but I want to be there.”

  Nate looks straight at me. “You’re not going anywhere without the Kings, and you damn well know that.”

  “No, look, I need to handle this on my own. I read a bit about the Lost Boys last night, and I just…. I have questions I need answered, and I know if you guys are there, she’s less inclined to give me those answers. So please.” I look to him, putting the car in drive. “Just let me handle this on my own.”

  He doesn’t fight, just shrugs and hits Play on Kendrick Lamar’s “Humble.”

  I laugh, shaking my head as I pull out of our driveway. “I swear you were living in the hood in your past life.”

  “Tsk tsk.” Nate shakes his head. “Don’t stereotype.” He starts bobbing his head to the beat and raps out the chorus. Laughing, he waves his hand. “Come on… rap it with me….”

  Shaking my head, I turn onto the main highway that leads to school. “No thanks.”

  School is boring, and I truly feel like I’m over it. “At least this is our last year,” I mutter to Tatum.

  “True!” she agrees, shoving books into her locker. I pause, thinking about the order Katsia spoke about in the book. So if we’re all leaving for college, then that means there’s a new group of Kings that are going to be starting next year. I need to call Daemon. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I shut my locker and press Call on his name. He picks up almost instantly, his voice soothing like hot chocolate on a cool winter day.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, curt, straightforward, and blunt, but it’s Daemon, and from how short I’ve known him, you don’t usually get any other tone.

  “Yes, but hey, I need to talk to you about something. Are you home?”

  “I am.”

  “Okay, be ready and I’ll pick you up.”

  “See you then,” he replies with the same tenor, hanging up.

  “Jeez,” Tatum murmurs beside me. “His tone? Does he hate the world?”

  Her assumption annoys me. Daemon is a lot of things, some things not even I completely know yet. “No,” I snap. “He’s just… different.”

  She shrugs, and we both start walking toward the elevator. “Different, as in Ted Bundy and Jack the Ripper different, or different, as in ‘I draw naked in the moonlight’ different?”

  I roll my eyes, pushing the button to take us down. “Probably more on the Jack the Ripper side, I’m guessing,” I murmur, and she looks at me.

  “No way.”

  “I said probably, not definitely. Anyway, keep your paws off him.”

  “Hey!” She throws her hands up, and we step into the car. “I don’t want to be another victim. I’ll stay away.”

  She won’t stay away.

  We get into the truck and I put it into reverse. “I’ll drop you off. I just need to have this conversation with Daemon alone.”

  “Are you going to tell me what is going on?” she asks. She didn’t ask in an entitled tone. It was more in a way as if she’s worried and wants to know everything is okay. Which is Tatum. She’s outgoing, blunt, a little flirty, and a lot sassy, but she’s real. She’s always kept it real with me, and she will forever be my best friend.

  I exhale. “I am. Just… give me some time?” I look at her briefly as I pull out onto the main road.

  “Okay,” she nods, “I can do time.”

  Driving up to my house, I beep the horn, deciding to wait in the car for Daemon. He comes walking out in a dark suit, buttoned up at the front.

  “Huh!” I look at him as he slides into the passenger seat. “You go shopping?”

  He looks down at his clothes and then back to me, his eyes expressionless. “Yes.”

  Pulling out of the driveway, I turn to him slightly. “This talk, can we do it in English?”

  He nods. “Yes. I might be little slow, but yes.”

  I smile and turn the radio on. “Jungle” by Tash Sultana starts playing, and I hit it up a notch. I love this artist. She’s from Australia and completely underground, but her voice is soulful and her music touches you deeply.

>   “Are you okay?” I ask Daemon when he doesn’t say anything.

  He nods, unbuttoning his jacket. “Yes. What do you want to talk about?”

  I shuffle around in my seat. “Katsia, mainly, and the Lost Boys. And also, the next generation of Kings. Is that going to be okay for you?”

  He nods again. “That’s fine. The next generation of Kings isn’t so easy to…” He pauses, looking for the word he wants to use. “…explain. They are…” He looks to me again. “…hidden. Unknown as to what the next move is or if they are starting.”

  Well, that makes entirely no sense, but we continue driving until I come to the turn off to the forest we went through on Halloween. Pulling down the long stretch of road—the road that is so much less scary than it is at night—and follow it right to the end.

  “I know this place,” Daemon announces, a little sketchy.

  “You do?” I answer, turning into the little parking lot.

  “Yes.” He looks at me, confused. “How do you know this place?”

  “Well, long story short, a friend threw a party here.”

  “A party?” he asks again.

  I pause with my hand on the door handle. “Yes, you know….” I gesture up to my mouth as in drinking, and then boogie in my seat as in dancing.

  He looks at me, bored, not catching any of my hints.

  “Well this is going to be a long chat then,” I mutter, getting out of the car. He follows, shutting the door, and I lock it.

  I’m just about to walk toward the clearing, when he grabs onto my arm, tugging me back. I look down at his grip and then back to his face. “What’s wrong?”

  Shaking his head, he whispers, “You should not have been here, Madison. This isn’t your place.”

  “My place?” I step toward him. “What do you mean? It’s beautiful here.”

  “Something is wrong.” He searches the forest and then looks back to me. “Get back in the car and do it slowly.”

  “What?” I look around the area but don’t move my head—making it less obvious. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t ask questions. Just do it.”

  Searching his eyes, I can see him pleading with me. “Okay.” Slowly, I sidestep and walk toward the driver door, beeping the alarm system and sliding in. Daemon stays in the same spot, his shoulders square and his stance in fighting mode. It sends chills down my spine, and my fear kicks up to inhumane levels. Pulling the door open, I’m about to slide in when it hits. A sharp sting stabs me right in the head, and I’m falling.