Unbound (the TORQUED trilogy Book 3)

by Shey Stahl

  “I’m so sick of your shit!” I punch his shoulder, attempting to provoke him. Just like me, I know how to piss him off. It was my life’s mission as a kid to piss my older brother off.

  Red takes a calming breath, but I can tell by the shaking of his fists, he’s nearly at that point. “You push me again, you little fucking asshole, and I’m gonna fuckin’ deck you.”

  I want him to.

  “Go ahead! Do it! You know you want to!” I scream in his face. “All you’ve done is look down on me and tell me how to live my life, and I’m fucking sick of it. You’re not perfect. Just because Dad left you the business doesn’t mean you’re Dad. You never gave a shit about me before. Why do you care what I’m doing now?” My voice carries through the yard. “I get it. You’re the good guy. The honorable one everyone looks up to and Raven”—I flick my wrist Raven’s direction—“she’s the brains. Going to college like Mom and Dad wanted. You both have it all figured out. Then there’s me.” Turning around, I raise my hands up over my head. “The fuck up!” I yell so loudly my throat aches.

  I know everyone is watching my nonsensical rant, but I don’t give a fuck. I knew the breakdown was coming, my empty meaningless words spewed on unforgiving souls.

  My lips part, intent on saying more, but then it passes and I don’t even remember what it was I was going to say. I look at the shirt, Sophie, my mom, Red, every faceless fucker standing in the backyard. I throw my hands up in the air, my shoulders shaking. I’m fucking losing it, right here, right now. It’s the end. They say don’t burn your bridges, but I’m destroying the motherfuckers. My hands fall to my head, clasping around the back of my neck and I turn around to face the crowd.

  They’re waiting on the finale. There’s one thing I can do well. Give a show.

  I toss my arms up. “None of you know a goddamn thing! None of you know what my days are like or what I’m going through!” Tears I’d give anything to stop shake my words, shake my fucking life. “Every day I’m judged on everything, but no one takes the time to help me. They just tell me what I’m doing wrong. All I’ve ever been is the youngest Walker boy, the fuck up. You know what, fuck you for thinking you know a goddamn thing, and ignoring it.” Lost inside the words screaming from me, I react, my anger built-up so much it has nowhere to go but out. Taking the cooler next to me, I pick it up and throw it across the yard. “Fuck all of you!” I scream at the top of my lungs, my body begging to give out. I can’t stop crying, and now everyone here knows it. All I can do is cry, cry for everything I’m losing and for everything I once had that was taken from me. I’ve never felt more alone than I do right now. Unloved, isolated in demons even I don’t understand.

  Between heavy breaths, it’s a little girl with chocolate curls who guts me. The one afraid of her uncle for the first time in her life. “Most of all, fuck me.”

  I’m unattached, relentless and uncontrollable. They stare at me as I struggle to breathe, adrenaline coursing through me, my hands shaking.

  Do they see what she does to me?

  Do they see how much this hurts to be this way because of her?

  Do they see that everything comes back to her?

  They’re waiting on my reaction, and I don’t know what to give them besides what I am. I have no answer for what I’ve done. I don’t even know who I am in the presence of Sophie Cunning anymore besides a fucking lunatic. I’m anything she pushes me to be, like this, fighting to prove myself.

  Drawing in ragged breathes, I wipe tears from my face. I’m at the gate when Sophie grabs my hand, her jaw quivering.

  I look at her, and our eyes lock; she’s crying. Mine squeeze shut and then I can’t help but find her gaze again, knowing she’s still looking at me, waiting to see what I’m going to do next.

  It’s her tears, her fucking tears falling that break me apart. I’m so lost there’s no way I can come back from this.

  Why her?

  Why can’t I just walk away and leave this alone?

  “Rawley, please don’t do this,” she begs me, holding on to my hand, her mascara streaking down her face. Eyes that were once drowning seem to be suffocating now. I don’t know why she’s begging after what I’ve said, but maybe me breaking apart in front of everyone like I just did is causing her to try and stop me from leaving.

  I want to say something. I want to take away the pain I’ve caused, but I’m rooted in place knowing nothing I say or do changes anything.

  My hand drops from hers while my frame shakes, uneven and broken like my life. I’m a shattered sheet of glass with sharp edges and tiny slivers that get caught in your skin. Unseen to the eye, I’m there, waiting to infect the lives of everyone around me. They see it. She finally will.

  I shake my head, biting the corner of my lip, tears falling hopelessly. “Sophie, this is what I do. I fuck up and I leave. You should know this by now.”

  Despondent eyes fail to find what they’re looking for and she turns away.

  It’s not fair I can’t have her, but I know one thing, I can’t do this to her anymore. To any of them.

  Beck draws in a deep breath, clouds of smoke between us swirling in the darkness. “C’mon, man, I ain’t sittin’ here all night.”

  I stare into the darkness. The orange-yellow tinge above her door flickering in the night. We’ve got plans to leave tonight but I can’t just yet. And after this morning, and tonight, I don’t know why I’m here.

  “You goin’ in or what?” Beck asks for about the fourth time in the last hour. “I thought we were leavin’ tonight. Stop fuckin’ around with her and lets go.”

  I don’t answer him and take one last drag from the joint in my hand, chest and head full of smoke. I hand it over to him and reach for the handle. The door creaks in the night, the only sound for miles in this too slow town in the too dark night. I don’t hear anything other than my pulse and my shoes against the pavement.

  I want numbness. I want escape. I want… her to fucking hate me. The kind of hate where love will never return.

  I know she’s in there. I watched her walk in an hour ago, rushed steps and a rigid posture.

  My problem is, I can’t leave just yet. I’m not done. I need her to truly hate me before I’m gone completely.

  I knock, twice, three times with no answer.

  My face presses into her doorframe as I repeatedly pound my fist against it, my bloody knuckles leave crimson red smears. I debate, I plead, telling myself to walk away, but I don’t and yell, “Open the goddamn door, Sophie.” My warning can’t be missed. “I swear to fucking God—”

  “No,” she says from behind the door. I know she’s standing there, crying, wishing I wasn’t me, this guy, this fucking wreck she loves and can’t let go of. “And don’t you dare fuck up my door because I’ll have to pay for it.”

  My smile twists my lips and I don’t know why. I have absolutely nothing to smile about.

  My lashes lift, just barely, a gust of wind hitting the side of my face. Turning my head to the right, I see Beck sitting in the car, waiting for me. He knows what a fuck up I am too, yet he’s here. I might never understand why he hangs out with me.

  Turning, I face the door again, my voice a distant version of anything I used to be to the hopeless girl behind this metal door. “I’ll set this fucking building on fire if you don’t open the door. You know I will. Let. Me. In!” My fist hits the door, again, my forehead pressing into the wooden frame. I can’t keep from shaking. It’s bone deep, a shiver coming up from the very depths of my soul, rattling my bones.

  Silence. That’s all she gives me. All I hear is the rapid beat of my own heart, as if the blood pumping through my veins is rushing wild.

  She doesn’t respond to my threat. I knew she wouldn’t. Not right away at least. But I know if I stand here long enough, she’ll give in because the truth is Sophie wants answers she thinks I’m going to give. If she opens the door, she might get them. Probably not, but she doesn’t know that.

  When the door finally o
pens, I step in, not waiting for her invite. My shoulder knocks hers.

  “What are you doing here?” Her voice is hushed as she reaches to close the door behind me.

  Make her hate you.

  Coming closer, my breath hits her face and I raise an eyebrow at her, but I don’t look up, I can’t. The thump in my chest is louder now. Her proximity is suffocating, and it’s my body’s natural reaction. We don’t touch as I speak. “Back at the party… you practically begged me not to leave and now… you don’t want me here?”

  Her face, broken and confused, tells me to leave but I don’t listen.

  I never do. Not until I finally get some truth out of her.

  I’m depending on the words she doesn’t say. They’re the reason why, contrary to all the warning signs, she lets me in once more. We both battle these unsaid words. It’s the reason I keep coming back. Because the truth is, my unsaid words tell me I’m nothing without her.

  There’s a big part of me that’s afraid of what I’ll become if she ever truly lets go. I know what it’s doing to her and for three years, I’ve let it. She lets it. She can’t fucking let go either.

  Her mind says, “Let him go,” while her heart begs, “Hold on.”

  “You’re high.” It’s an assessment for the most part. But in truth, it’s the only way I get through the day anymore.

  “And? What the fuck does it matter anyway? We both know you’re the reason. I get high to forget the pain you cause.”

  “It’s always my fault and not a goddamn thing you’ve done. Jesus Christ, Rawley!” Her pain bleeds anger, raging waves crashing against the shores. Spinning around, she grabs a glass from the counter and throws it against the wall near my head. It shatters upon impact. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Stop doing this to me. Stop blaming me for your problems. Yes, I cheated on you. Once. It was the biggest fucking mistake of my life and if I could, I’d take it back. I never meant to hurt you, but what you’re doing, purposely hurting me night after night, it’s just fucking cruel, Rawley. It’s fucking cruel. If you don’t love me, why can’t you just let me go?” Digging her fingers into my chest, she shoves me back against the wall. My back hits hard, my breath blowing out with the action.

  The smug set of my lips pisses her off. “Do you fucking hate me now?”

  “Why do you keep asking me that? You sound like a stupid kid when you say it. Will you stop acting like a selfish asshole?” she screams in infuriation, refusing to answer my question. “You have so much goddamn talent and people around you who love you, but you can’t see that.”

  I stare at her and ask, “You mean you? Or figuratively? Because you loved me enough to fucking cheat on me. That’s about it.”

  “Fuck you.” Without looking at me, she shakes her head, as if she can’t or won’t do this with me. But she is, she always does. “You have no idea how much I love you and how much you continue to hurt me.”

  I watch her for a second, my stomach rolling, black eyes wandering over sad lies.

  “What about now? Do you hate me?” I keep asking her because I want her to say yes, and I want to believe her.

  I take a step in her direction, causing her to back away until she is flush against the wall. When I look at her, I notice she’s wearing one of my old T-shirts that comes up just above her knees. It’s one she stole from me years ago. “I hated you long before tonight, Rawley.”

  You hate me but you’re wearing my clothes.

  I snort at my thoughts, turning, and smack my palm against the wall above her. The problem is, she’s incapable of really hating me and that’s where our problem lies. If she doesn’t hate me, I’ll keep coming back for more.

  “You don’t know shit.” My posture stiffens and I take a step back, needing to distance myself. Lost eyes remain focused, staring her down. Licking my lips, I gauge her reaction, her actions that don’t come.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Her stare levels with mine. “I don’t. Because of you. Because of this fucking game you keep playing. Stop doing this to me.”

  “It’s not all me.” She knows what I mean by that.

  “Goddamn you, Rawley. Why can’t you just grow the fuck up! Why can’t you actually take on some responsibility for your actions for once in your life?”

  She’s like a broken record.

  “Because you won’t fucking admit the truth to me!” I scream back at her. The sound of my fist going into the wall beside her causes her to flinch, her hands jump to her ears. She spins around, moving to the side so she’s not trapped against the wall.

  I blow out two shallow breaths and I have to take a step forward. I need to be near her.

  Her hands fly to my chest, stopping me. “Don’t touch me,” her shaking voice warns.

  She’s ignoring my statement. She knows why I’m here. But this is what we do. We torment, torture and use each other until there’s not a shred of purity left.

  “Don’t touch you?” I roll my eyes, looking at the wall, then to the glass on the floor, and then back to her. “Okay.” I nod.

  “Why are you here?” she asks, her words, her face, everything about her completely drained as if she can’t take being near me any longer.

  I don’t answer.

  Instead, I sniff because I don’t fucking know why I’m here. All I do know is I have to be here. I have to make her hate me right now, forever. I’ll destroy her until she’s nothing but a crumbled mess at my feet.

  I take two steps toward her, only to have her back up right in the direction I want her to.

  She lets out the heaviest of sighs but yet, she doesn’t push me out. “What the hell were you thinking tonight?” she asks, as if I should have an answer. “Why did you have to ruin your mom’s party? Honestly, do you ever think of anyone but yourself before you cause a scene?”

  I don’t answer her question and instead, ask one of my own.

  “Tell me some truth.”

  Her laugh holds no humor. “What truth? Do you even know what that means anymore?”

  “No. But you don’t either.” I shake my head. Everything’s out of focus when I blink. “Tell me what happened in Mexico.”

  Her sore red-soaked eyes linger on mine. “I told you.”

  I shake my head. “No, you didn’t. You told me lies.” My words are acid, eating flesh in its wake, like a razor dragged down skin.

  “No, I didn’t. It was an accident, Rawley.” Her voice is tired; she’s done explaining.

  “Sophie…” Her name leaves my lips in a rush. “…an accident is me slamming my truck into a tree at eighty miles an hour, and me being pissed it didn’t kill me.”

  She won’t look at me now. Maybe she can’t because her eyes are on my chest, the place I used to hold only for her. Who am I kidding, it’s still only hers.

  Silence fills the room and every space in my head. For once, I hear nothing around me. No beat, no blood, no screams… just her and the moment she’s going to decide to break me completely. It’s coming. I can sense the change in the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

  She swallows hard, darting her eyes to the door. She wants to tell me to get the fuck out, but she knows I’ll keep coming back until she finally gives me what I’m looking for.

  A truth.

  I count the seconds.

  Each excruciatingly long one.

  Until she breaths out, “I lied….”

  And there it is, right here, it finally happens. Confusion and lies flood my mind, the smoke rising and rising until I’m sure I’m about to choke on them.

  Our eyes collide, the fires of hell in mine, cold winter in hers. She’s looking at me without a hint of realization as to what this means. I swallow back the pain.

  My heart stumbles, trips over what I can’t say.

  I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. She’s silent, staring back at me with troubled eyes.

  She’s waiting for something, but I don’t think she knows what.

  I stare. Waiting. My gaze drops, losing th
e battle, wilting under her heat like roses in the desert. It’s more than I lied. It’s deception and hollow holes I’ve hidden myself in. It’s me wanting truth but hating that it’s coming, finally, after so long. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.

  “That night… in Mexico….”

  She starts to cry, tears, so many tears….

  “I uh….” Her hands tremble and she covers her face.

  Like always, she can’t look at me, her shoulders forward.

  I stare and wait for what I know is going to tear me apart and leave me weaker than ever before.

  I shake. Because I knew, I fucking knew she’d lied. Someone like her doesn’t just accidently fuck another guy and not make the conscious decision to do so.

  “I was scared. Before I left, you told me you wanted to marry me someday. And I wanted that, God did I want that, Rawley. I did. But… I didn’t want to have any regrets. I didn’t… I wanted to have sex with someone else. I wanted to know what it was like to be with someone else. I’m not trying to blame it on my parents, but after what happened to them, I didn’t want that to happen to us. I knew, I just knew I would end up with you, forever. It’s what I wanted, but I was eighteen… all I’d ever known was being Rawley Walker’s girl. The football player’s cheerleader… and I wanted to know I wasn’t making a mistake by wanting to be with you for the rest of my life. So I had sex with someone else.”

  The sharpness of what’s coming, the pain inside me, it cuts deep. My heart holds on regardless of this being the end.

  I take a hold of her without thinking, my arms around her back. I hate you, I cry inside, the words trapped, an endless loop, but I don’t say them.

  It’s the heaviest of weights hitting me.

  She searches my face but her eyes… they’re so fucking lost. I dig my hands into her sides. “Say something.”

  I don’t.

  I can’t. She doesn’t want to hear what I’m thinking.

  “I’m sorry.” Her words come out half broken, a sob escaping her.

  She thinks she can be sorry for lying to me for three years and it be okay?

  “Didn’t you ever wonder back then what it’d be like to be with someone else?”