Chained: A Bad Boy Romance

by Holt, Leah

  I used to tell myself that there would be a time that he would take me seriously. He would finally see I knew what I was talking about. I'd thrown myself into harms way a multitude of times for the only one I ever truly felt connected to. The amount of dedication I had to him was numbing.

  I'd held him high above me and ignored the voice inside my head.

  Look where that got me. Who's here for me now? Not a soul.

  As I sat alone in the dark, realization sank in that I'd been my worst enemy. I was blind to those around me and their motives.

  How could I have been so fucking stupid?

  I should have never gone that night.

  My instincts had been right, they usually are.

  I lifted my arms up and grabbed my head, clutching my temples between each forearm. To know things didn't have to end up this way was hard to swallow.

  My arms tried to squeeze this regret from my mind. I pressed against my skull, wishing the thought would burst out.

  The shittiest part was knowing that I had been left behind by someone who I thought would always stand by me.

  The pit in my stomach felt as empty as the room I was confined to.

  I told him things didn't feel right.

  I'd wanted him to change his mind, but...

  My brother refused.

  Brice had fucking refused.

  He was dead set on going forward with the plan. I should have just gone home, but I couldn't leave him there. I'd always put him first above anything else.

  Even above myself.

  I'd thought I would always have him there for me, that we stood on the same pedestal together as equals.

  What did I get for standing by my brother? This, this fucking life behind bars.

  Abandoned by the one I'd set out to help. Nothing could cut deeper.

  I knew I'd made some awful decisions in my life, I'd chosen the road that led me here, but I didn't have to. I'd had options!

  Why didn't I take them?

  When I first got into the prison, I'd made endless calls to him. I wrote letters constantly, but never got one in return. He hadn't even attempted to pick up the phone. There was no effort on his part.

  Shock had hit me first. Depression set in when I acknowledged that the one person who said they would always have my back had turned against me.

  There's no other pain like betrayal by your own blood.

  I brushed the sweaty strands of hair away from my face. My freedom had been taken, my life has been altered forever, I thought morbidly.

  The walls seemed to engulf me, the quiet was maddening. You have to really enjoy being your only company to survive this kind of hell. Otherwise, you'll be the death of your own soul.

  I was going to go crazy in here. At least out there I had things to keep me busy.

  Charlie had become my new hobby.

  Even though I was blind, the image of her face was bright. I wanted to focus on her, push the other thoughts away. I didn't want to think about my brother anymore.

  I pictured myself softly touching her hair, the silkiness sliding through my fingertips. My eyes closed as I rested my head against the cool, damp wall. Trying to soak up her silhouette, I squeezed my eyes tighter.

  Stay there, stay right there. Don't fade into the wickedness of this place.

  I knew that wouldn't be completely possible. The never ending absence of light brought the worst images to my mind. I wanted to think about her, but I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried to keep her curvy figure in my eyes, his deception replaced it easily.

  He was my brother. My kin. The one and only person I'd ever been able to rely on.

  Apparently, in this fucked up world, you can't even trust your own blood.

  If he would've just listened to me for once in his life! I grunted loudly, slamming my foot against the dirty concrete floor. He failed me, he left me here... left me to rot while he continues to live on the outside.

  That night, there wasn't even supposed to be anyone there. I gritted my teeth in anger, a screeching noise filling my ears. Brice had told me the security would be gone before we arrived. He'd assured me that no one would be inside.

  I trusted him.

  Like countless times before, I let him lead me into the belly of the beast.

  I never thought he would have been ungrateful for what I did. If I could go back and change things I would. I've had dreams about that, being in that place and asserting myself. Not asking him, just making him leave.

  In the surrounding abyss I heard muffles of voices outside the door. A shuffle of feet scurried by as I watched the light dim and reemerge from the crack.

  A web brush against the back of my neck. Quickly I swatted it away, I hated spiders. Nothing creeped me out more than the thought of a gross, hairy eight-legged creature crawling over me.

  My body shivered with disgust. I shifted uncomfortably to try and move away from it. I wasn't even sure if it was a spider, but I wanted to be as far from that feeling as possible.

  When I was eight, my brother and myself had decided to camp in our backyard. We only had our sleeping bags, no tent. It was just the two of us, as it had been my whole my life.

  I woke up to a burning feeling running through my entire body, an immense pain that I had never experienced before.

  During the night a large recluse spider had crawled into my sleeping bag. It had bit me several times and my entire left leg swelled. The scream I let out was gut wrenching. Brice picked me up and carried me into our house.

  His face was plagued with worry and concern. He had been the only person to ever show me that. To show me true care and love.

  Our dad was passed out and despite how much Brice tried to wake him, he was dead to the world. Finally, my brother called the ambulance and got the help I needed.

  He had saved me.

  I had to spend a week in the hospital from that. I've hated spiders ever since. Beyond that, the way I looked at my older brother was never the same. He became my role model, a hero in my eyes. I would have done anything for him.

  I did do anything.

  I gave my life, my freedom, my world to get approval from him.

  And here I am, trapped in this place. Why didn't I do things different?

  I had spent hours thinking about that single question. When you're young you never think about how your choices can affect your life. The impact that one single decision can have on your entire existence is mind blowing.

  I curled up against the corner on the floor. I couldn't see around me; there was no bed, no seat. The only other item was a filthy toilet.

  I had never been in confinement this long. I had spent three days in here my first month because of Ricardo. And here I am again because of him. I hate that fucking bastard.

  I had no idea how long it had been. Time blended together with the lack of light. I had thought about keeping track, trying to figure out a way to tell how much time had gone by.

  My attempts were useless. The food came once a day, all three meals at once. There was no rhyme or reason to when it was delivered. It came when they wanted to bring it.

  I tried to listen to footsteps, see if I could tell shift changes or breaks. It was no good.

  Growling, I punched the wall in frustration. The roughness of the cement split my knuckles open. Warm blood trickled down my hand, I shook it as the throbbing sensation set in. My hand beat as if it was a heart, the pain surging through my arm.

  I'm a fucking idiot. I can't let my anger get the best me. It won't help.

  I knew I wasn't really angry about being in the hole. I was angry at Brice. It pissed me off that after everything we had been through, he'd stayed away from me.

  I'd thought that I was doing the right thing. For once, I could pay him back for how he'd saved me.

  Brice was money hungry and greedy, he ran with the wrong crowd, but in the mess of our lives he had always been my brother. A great brother, even with all his faults. In the grand scheme of things I felt he deserve
d my homage to him.

  I can't do this to myself anymore. Why should I care so much about that? I made my choice for a good reason. I gave him a second chance. I just hope he used it wisely.

  I wanted to think about Charlie. I thought if I could just fill myself with her, then he would disappear.

  She had beautiful wide green eyes. Their gem like resemblance was alluring. Could she be thinking about me being down here? Stuck like a lab rat in a maze, no way of escape as I slowly crack?

  That's what this place was for. The hole was meant to break people, bog those of us down who they deemed a threat. I knew the warden didn't want me to be set free. No one wanted me to walk the streets.

  Everyone fears me and who they think I am. I understood the feelings behind their fear.

  To those on the outside, I was a killer.

  I wondered if Brice had seen my trial on television. Did he regret his choice? Does he wish he could change things?

  Brice was five years older than me. Early on, he'd become a figure of authority when our father showed he could care less about us. Brice shifted, taking on the responsibility and struggling to keep me from feeling like no one cared about me.

  He was protective, smart and sly. As I got older I tried to follow in his footsteps.

  What a mistake that was.

  I should have walked outside the path he'd taken and made my own route. But I hadn't, and here I was.

  The look in his eyes that night showed me he never truly cared. I saw an emptiness in them that I had never let myself see before.

  I hated replaying that night in my head. The subtleties of his mannerisms should have shown me his motives. “No Owen, it's fine. Don't be a fucking pussy. Get the fuck out of the car and let's go!” he'd yelled at me when we got there.

  It wasn't until I was cornered in the back vault that I realized he had no plan. It was a horrible feeling to have, even now; to know that your brother had led you into the flames.

  A split second was all I had to think, to act, to give back to him.

  All for nothing.

  The throbbing in my hand had lessened, but my fingers had swelled. I tried to open and close them but it hurt too much. I hated when I lost control and my rage took over, I saw red sometimes, and that was terrifying. It had been a challenge to keep myself in check. I knew I had a short fuse. The biggest issue was thinking about my past. With those thoughts, the rage would grow.

  The breathing techniques and the counting exercises I had been shown were a crock of shit. The only thing I found that actually worked was pushing all those feelings and thoughts deep down. I'd locked them inside and struggled to forget about them.

  The doctors all said I needed to deal with it, then move past it. But I couldn't deal with it.

  I needed to forget it.

  How could I listen to their advice when none of them understood me? No one took the time to truly see what happened.

  They called me a murderer.

  I wanted to laugh in their faces, and a few times, I did. I couldn't help myself. To have a guy in a white lab coat try and break down who and what they thought I was? Who wouldn't find it funny!

  Yup. Sure, it was my defiant testosterone that got me here. Fucking quacks. I cracked up inside with that shit.

  A tickle emerged across my arm. Without thinking, I slapped my hand down and killed the spider. A sharp pain shot through my hand. I dismissed the ache and slowly opened my palm to brush the bits to the floor.

  If only it was so easy to wipe away my hurt and betrayal.

  My brother was never a hero.

  And, even worse...

  He never once said thank you for saving him.

  Chapter Seven

  Charlie

  My nerves had been running wild all morning. The bowl of cereal I had poured turned soggy as I just sat and stared at it. I found myself scooping the mush, only to drop it back down into the thick milk that resided below it.

  I'd decided to toss my breakfast, I couldn't eat. Even if I tried I wouldn't be able to hold down any food.

  It was time for my first meeting with Owen since he'd gotten dragged to the hole. It seemed like ages since my eyes had graced his face. I couldn't wait for him to walk through my door.

  I was ready to feel his presence. The days between seemed never ending.

  I missed him.

  I couldn't believe that crossed my mind. I shouldn't feel this way. Missing him was crazy.

  My stomach felt like it was in my throat. There were so many questions to ask. I wondered if he thought about me while he was in there. Could he feel me thinking about him?

  I can't believe I'm this nervous. What the hell, Charlie? Get a grip! I thought as I stared at the door waiting for Owen.

  A heavy breath escaped my lungs as I tried to gain some self-control. I began to rub my hands against my skirt to erase the sweat that had formed. I felt foolish over the way my body had been reacting.

  This is crazy! Settle down.

  I glanced up at the clock, there were twenty minutes left before he would be here. I had been given a longer session with him today, an extra half hour. I was excited to know I had more time with him than usual.

  The parole board wanted me to extend our meeting after his little stunt in the community room. With it being so close to his release they wanted to make sure he didn't take any more risks.

  They needed to know he understood that what he did was wrong and it could really mess up his release. The hearing had been delayed a week already because of that fight.

  I knew he had helped someone in need, but they wouldn't hear what I had to say. I was just told to save it and put it all in my report. I was getting really fed up with everyone around here not listening to what I had to say.

  My report was going to lay it all out for them, I knew what I was doing.

  I was really turned off by the fact that everyone was so dismissive of his actions in that room. They wanted to know nothing. All they cared about was that he fought someone, that was it. The reason was unimportant.

  It seemed everyone around here was aiming for his failure. I looked at the facts and tried to find the truth. He intrigued me to the point of obsession. I hadn't been able to get him out of mind since day one.

  I needed to see him, hear him, talk to him. I knew that time would be soon and I was ready. I watched the second hand tick by on the clock, I glared at it, wishing it to move faster.

  I leaned back in my seat, fiddling my pen between my fingers in anticipation. My whole body felt wired just waiting for him.

  The lock on my door rang as it jetted back from its security. It opened, and in my mind it seemed like slow motion.

  In the doorway I was faced by the outline of his figure. His mass blocked the hall lighting, it shielded his face in a shadow. I could feel my breathing getting heavier before Owen even stepped into the room.

  Here we go. My legs trembled like they were cold. I sat up straight and crossed one ankle over the other, hoping it would ease the shaking.

  His face gleamed under the florescent lights of the ceiling as he entered. The aura he emitted over took me. Our eyes locked on each other, Owen's appeared brighter than I remembered. The hair that usually draped across his forehead had been combed back tightly.

  Wow, he looks refreshed. Not as worn as I expected.

  There were two guards with him today.

  Huh, that's strange, normally there's only one. I bet it's because they see him as a threat now. Or maybe they just want him to feel even more powerless in their grasp.

  His eyes were fixated on me as the larger guard secured his thick wrists in their place at the table, the other fastening his ankles to the floor.

  A smile tried to spread across my face. I used all my effort to keep my lips retracted. An outpouring of butterflies filled my stomach. Look away. Just look at something else, don't get pulled into him. I quickly glanced down and brushed my hair behind my ear.

  The two guards turned and walked t
owards the door, but only one of them exited.

  The other remained.

  “Thank you, I'm all set here,” I said. I didn't understand why he was standing inside, positioned like a soldier at the gate of a castle.

  He glanced my way. “I was told by Warden Lynch to keep an eye on the prisoner, I'm supposed to stand in today.”

  What the hell is the warden doing? Is he trying to screw up his therapy? Having that guy in here won't work. I'm done letting Lynch try to rule every aspect of this place. Out there they were his. In here, they are mine.

  “First, the prisoner has a name, it's Owen, and no. That's not how this works. I have patient doctor confidentiality. You can't be here.”

  “I have orders to...”

  My eyes narrowed as I cut him off. “I don't care what you have, you need to leave. If Warden Lynch has a problem with that then he can come talk to me.” I couldn't do my job if I had another set of ears in the room.

  I'm done biting my tongue. I'm sick of the warden trying to snake his control into my office. Enough is enough.

  I never would have stood for this at my old job. I was done playing nice.

  Regardless of Owen's reason for being here, despite the fact he was killer, he was my patient. I was committed to that first and foremost.

  A deep chuckle filled the room. I glanced over to find Owen laughing while shooing the man out with his hands.

  The guard stood, dumb founded; he didn't know what to do. I walked over to the door and opened it. “Go, I don't need you here.”

  He was hesitant at first, but he stepped into the hall. I closed the door and for the first time locked the emergency latch. It was there for my safety if there was ever an issue inside the prison.

  It was necessary for our meeting today. I had no idea if the warden would try to send any guards back in, or end the session because I'd defied him.

  I didn't care, I had a job to do.

  My heart beat rapidly inside my chest. I couldn't slow it down. I knew Owen was watching me, his eyes following each stride I took. I loved the rush he gave me. This was exactly what I had wanted.

  “Long time no see,” he said, winking. It was his calling card, that single flirtatious wink.