“I know.” I hear him tell me as I am leaving the room. His voice is dangerously deep and it makes me want to add a few extra steps to my retreat. J.D.’s words dance through my mind, and I cannot believe what I am about to do.
“Give me something to fight for, Law.” I tell him, letting him hear the full weight of my desire in my voice. I mentally hi-five myself, but I do not turn back to glance behind me. Baby steps here people. Baby steps.
I find myself unable to sleep with so many of my thoughts chasing it away. A stronger person would just admit to being nervous about what is happening two floors below me. With just the darkness and me in the room, I do not have to be strong. The darkness, with its coal black coldness, shields me. It steals my whispered secrets, smothering them within itself. Like a documented diary of my regrets and yearnings, any sleepless, crying nights it keeps private between us. The darkness has become my lullaby, and eventually it sings me to sleep despite my nerves.
I wake suddenly, from a dream that I am happy to escape, when I feel my cot sinking lower behind me. I freeze, waiting for my senses to give me a hint at what is happening in my panic.
“Your knife is on the floor. Not the best place to keep it if you were to need it.” His voice only stirs more panic inside me. “I’d appreciate it, if you would let me know now, if you have any stolen guns hidden under that pillow though.”
I roll onto my back to stare at Lawless sitting behind me. In the darkness, I can only see his shape, but I would know that voice in the darkest of nights.
He sits silently with his back to me, letting the darkness hide him. Each silent moment is stealing more of my breath being so close to him.
“We need to talk.” His voice finally comes and I startle with it after the room having been silent for so long. I can see his head turn to me with its outline in the darkness. I feel his fingers trace my face with soft patterns. My body betrays me after being starved from his touch for so long. I can hear my breathing quicken with his gentle touch.
“I miss you, too.” He tells me, answering my body’s response to him. His lips touch my forehead, hesitantly placing a kiss.
“I’ll give you whatever you want Helena. You just have to let me know what it is.” Lawless whispers against my flesh. I shiver from the hidden meaning of his words. He leans in closer with my body’s invitation. His mouth trails hotly against my neck, quickening his own breath with the taste of me on his tongue.
“For you not to stick your dick in other people.” I whisper, answering his question, and pouring cold reality upon his body’s lustrous hopes.
I feel him retreat from me with such force it makes the cot shake. His entrance may have been silent, but his retreat is not. Every step that takes him from me echoes in the room around us with his anger. His slamming of the door vibrates the room with it.
I take another bite from my poisoned apple, listening to his fading footsteps retreating back to the room he now shares with Aimes, and the juices coat my tongue and throat. It burns me with its wickedness and my loneliness is the resulting effect it has. I lay in the darkness, listening to their muffled voices rise and fall like the tides. There is no moon giving their waves strength. It is the force of their emotions that carry their voices forward before lulling them again.
I know from the pitch in her voice that she is trying to talk him down from whatever crest he is reaching. I listen to her voice seep through the wall that separates our rooms and wonder what honeyed words she is feeding him. Is she convincing him of my wicked ways? Is she baiting him with her fragile sense of self, snuggling up to him for comfort? Is he offering her what he was so ready to offer me just moments ago? The only real question is, do I have the strength to discover any of these answers?
Right now, no, I do not. So I let sleep take me again with the taste of my poison still on my tongue, sweeter than candy, and as deadly as arsenic.
CHAPTER 41
I watch the dawn from my window instead of the table across from Marxx. I do not feel like listening to any more pep talks, or lectures, about how I should be doing things. Nor do I have any interest in eating another meal watching the many happy groups around me. Instead, I sit on my window’s edge watching life flow below me. I am woman; watch me pout.
I heard each of my former family members go past. I listened to their words, and happy voices, as it filled me with only more emptiness. I know that one day I will be strong again. It is just not today. Today I want nothing more than to hide from all the many requests and stares. I want to hide from my many memories that stalk me, reminding me of better days. Not that it is what is going to happen. It is just what I want.
I hear the door open behind me, and in the window’s reflection, I see Aimes leaning against its frame. If this is any hint as to what the rest of the day is going to be like, I am just going back to bed now. I will tie a sheet into a white flag and hang it from my doorway.
“Anything else you want to say to me?” Her voice is itching for a fight. I am tempted to give it one.
“Nope.” Tempted, not willing.
“I don’t believe you.” She stands her ground, edging up to her anger.
“I figured that out by how you are half hiding in the hallway.” I call her bluff, removing her bravado. It steals the courage for her to continue in her half-hearted attempt of a fight.
We stare at each others reflection in the window. Its thick glass dulls the colors, casting us both in a grey wash of shades. Nothing seems to be as vivid as it once was between us.
“Is this your new plan? Are you just going to hide out like a spoiled brat?” Her bravery is growing again with my ignoring her.
“The victim role seems to be taken already. I wonder, are you out there alone even right now? No constant bodyguard of the men you used to hate so? It really is amazing how fast you flip your opinions these days.” I watch her shrink with each of my words. If I had a screen print tee shirt right now it would read “Bring It”.
“That’s not fair.” She crosses her arms, cradling herself under my direct attention. “You turned your back on me. What was I supposed to do?”
“That is what everyone so loves to point out to me. What were you supposed to do? You, who just had to push that extra little bit for your own satisfaction. You, who is always so protected, and sheltered from the world. You, who always seems to land on her feet while the rest of us fall to our knees. Yes, what were you supposed to do?” I let my anger finally find a release.
“How about not question others loyalties when you so easily can walk away from them too? How about not sleep with the only man that has ever meant anything to your friend? How about, just once, stand on your own and not need someone else to hold you up?” I watch her cringe from each question. It brings me no joy, or remorse.
“I didn’t. We aren’t, Hells. You should know that.” Her voice is as broken as she looks.
“Tell me Amelia, did you sleep alone last night? Have you slept alone any night since this all started? Do you feel safe in his arms? Does his body next to yours in the morning give you the strength to keep going? Do you feel any guilt at all over being so wrapped up in their support?” I stare at her waiting for any answer she gives me.
“You might not be fucking him, but you have taken my place just the same. You can paint it any way you want, with whatever brush you desire. Tell yourself whatever you need. You know the truth, and exactly what that truth is. At least Leslie was honest in what she was doing. You think that by wrapping it up in female frailty forgives it. It doesn’t. It makes it worse. Now get out.”
She pauses for a moment before closing the door. “I talked to him Hells. I gave him a chance to explain things. You should, too. He misses you.”
She closes the door on my many replies that I bite back. I know that every word I have already given her, she will share with them as it is. Soon, my room will fill with men and their stares telling me how I have once again been naughty. It presents me with two choices. I can sit here hidi
ng, waiting for them to find me, or I can go out there daring them to find me. I never was one to make life easy for people. If they want me, they will have to find me. Mostly, I do not want to be waiting for Rhett. I do not like our new games.
CHAPTER 42
The library, with its many shelves of thick, faded books, proves to be the perfect hiding spot from my world. There are only a few others in the room with me. With their refusal to address anyone, I gather they too are seeking some level of escape from their own private hell. I find the ability to become invisible frees a great weight from my shoulders as I escape into a fantasy-land of print and paper.
The smell of the old books creates a soothing perfume around me like a hot bath at the end of a long day. The many dust particles dance around my chair in the sun’s rays casting an illusion of magic when I turn the pages. I devour the books, letting the stories create new images for my mind to replay tonight. I cling to each character, as if I am forming new friends with the stories they tell me. From romance to horror, I find a new person to fill the many empty holes in my soul within the leather bound novels around me.
“They want you in the gym.” I startle from the whisper of a voice in front of me. Aimes is standing there watching me. The next time I am forced to do laundry, I am sewing bells on her stuff. Loud bells.
“They who?” I return my attention to the novel with my dismissal of her. Unfortunately, it is not that easy.
“Who else would want you to come to the gym?” I do not think she meant for her question to form the way the words do.
“I guess you’re right. It is a short list these days of those that want to be around me.” I mean mine.
“I don’t want to fight anymore.” Her voice is still a whisper, but not because of the social rules of where we are.
“Then you should just stay silent.” I tell her, closing the novel in my hands. “This is where you run away.”
“I can’t.” Her whisper skips with her breath, sinking in her emotions. “He said if I don’t come back with you, then not to come back.”
I already know who would give such an order, but I ask anyway to make her say it. “Who told you that?”
“Lawless.” She tells me and my face holds shock with the name she gives me. “He wants you to see it. I think he has some idea that it will reach you in someway.”
“What will?” My curiosity is one of my many downfalls. I would list them all but my self-esteem is already on a downward spiral as it is.
“The fight. They didn’t go through with it last night. Not sure what happened, but they are doing it now. The only thing everyone seems to agree to is that you need to be there. So here I am.” She holds her hands out in a grand sweep of presenting herself. My lack of amusement takes some of the glow from her smile.
“We don’t have to talk on the way, but if we don’t get back soon, they will send Rhett. He hasn’t been a lot of fun and games as of late. Well, he has been a lot of games, just not any of them fun.” Her words are eerily similar to anothers from only a day ago. I try to tell myself it’s not me, it’s them, but who am I kidding? I am just a ray of sunshine as of late.
I take her up on her offer of not talking as we walk to the gym. A few times, she does try to engage me in conversation. It does not go well for her, and after a few well landed verbal blows, she finally relents to silence between us. My mind still fills with the many words that I want to say though. My tongue wants to scald her with them but my soul is tired of these mud-slinging games. So, I too, relent to the silence between us.
She pauses in front of the gym door. I cannot see her face, but I know she is working the courage to say something to me. Something she is worried about how I will react to when I hear it.
“You should know, they will be watching you. Rhett is worried you are turning against them. I told them you aren’t. You just don’t care about the politics of it. You never have. You have always been strong enough to do your own thing. You may be the only one of us that is.” She pauses before turning to me. Her blue eyes, so much like the many other pairs that were once in my life, swim before me. They are pleading with me to help her. Asking me to not let her fall. Pity for her, I am not wearing my cape and tights today.
“I know you hate me,” she continues, “I know you think I have turned them against you. I haven’t. They talk about you all the time. They just don’t know how to talk to you anymore. None of us do. You always were the heart of us. The one that took care of us. Give them your heart again, Hells. They need it.”
Seriously people, no cape today.
She does not wait for any answer from me. She knows I am not going to give her one. Instead, we walk into the gym together to watch the best of “when male egos attack live”. She; the one who was sent to summon, and me; the summoned.
The atmosphere of the gym is thick with testosterone. Normally, a girl would enjoy the sights before her, but not under these circumstances. Our delay has not stalled their fun. J.D. sits on “our” side of the gym holding a bag of ice across his nose with Paula over seeing his care. Rhett is resting beside them with a few marks of his own on his face but his smile speaks a different story than his bruises. Both are shirtless and have marks along their chests and sides. I am not sure what the rules of combat were, but there seems to have been very few with the amount of shading covering both their bodies.
Shelia is the attending nurse to “their” side. Simon has his own bag of ice across his eyes. Even with his natural dark coloring, I can see the bruises already shading along his skin. She fusses over each one, allowing him no male pride in his fight.
Richard is lying on his back and clutching his wrapped ribs. His breathing is unsteady, causing grimaces of pain in time with each of his inhales. Most of his bruising is on his lower torso with only a few to his face. I am not familiar with their fighting styles, but looking at their injuries, I know whom from “our side” they were matched against. I also know who is left.
Kidney shots are Rhett’s favorite, second only to the ribs. He prefers to leave long-term damage, not just bruises, to remind you of him. J.D. is a straight brawler. Wherever he can land a punch to, he will. Looking from one side to other, I cannot determine a winner from what lays before me. That is how my girl mind works though. Their male minds see it differently. Both sides have returned and received blows in the insanity of appeasing their male egos. There does not have to be a winner.
“He’s watching you.” I hear her little whisper.
Lawless and Dolph are standing in the center of the room staring at me. White take is around them in a large square is white floor, dictating the boundaries of the make shift boxing ring for today’s main event. From their hands to their wrists, white fabric and tape is bound tightly to protect them.
Law is standing, facing me, giving me his full attention as he waited for me to see him. Dolph stands to the side in his typical style of keeping everything in sight. He glances from Lawless to me. His face may be unreadable to me, but I still feel his unease with the way his eyes continue to look down before finding us. They are both rather calm considering what is about to happen. It only further proves their insanity.
Chapel comes to stand between the two men, telling them the agreed upon rules. We are too far back to hear him, but looking at the damage already done to the others, I cannot imagine there are many. Lawless is staring into Dolph with seething anger. His anger makes this seem more personal for him than for others. Chapel keeps pushing Lawless back as he is talking, only to have him creep up again to him and Dolph. Dolph takes the threat in stride watching the other man with enough caution to let Lawless know there will be no backing down from him either.
Chapel is having a hard time keeping the two men apart before the fight starts. I can see them exchanging whispered words that only prove to provoke the other further. Rhett and Simon have come to either side of the white tape, hoping their presence will calm their counterparts.
Lawless and Dolph are not even aware
of anything around them anymore, much less, the men standing beside them, who are trying to talk to them. Their eyes are focusing only on the other with how consumed they have both become with their anger. It is frightening to watch, and it has not yet even started.
“You have to choose a side. It will settle Lawless some.” Marxx pulls us to “their” side of the room. Once again, someone has snuck up on me. I am not a fan of this new trend. Does no one say “Excuse Me” anymore? Bells, you are all getting bells. Elves will be envious of you when I am through.
Marxx positions himself between Aimes and me as if he is expecting our own brawl to begin at any moment. If they had jello, I am sure it would be encouraged. I glance again to the “ring” in the middle of the room as I follow behind him. Rhett and Simon have had to step in to help Chapel separate Lawless and Dolph. There seems to be more vocal commotion now that they are apart.
Rhett is whispering in Law’s ear, but he is not listening to the words. His eyes are on me, following me, as I walk to “our” side. The weight of their anger makes me stumble under his gaze. Never have I seen such rage from him. Never do I want to see it again, and I turn my head to hide my weakness of not being able to face him.
I grab Marxx’ hand when we reach “our” side of the gym. I can feel his shock at my touch travel through his body. I can’t look at him. My head is too heavy to lift with my fears of what is about to happen before me. I can’t do this alone. They cannot ask me to stand here, and watch Lawless do this, without someone to help me. My hand trembles in his with my fears. The tension in our arms slackens as he comes to me. I feel him slide against my back, cradling me in his arms.
“I’m here.” Marxx’ deep voice whispers into my ear. “I’m here, Hells.”
I give in. All the strength I have been hiding behind, I let it fade in this moment. I let him hold me, pulling me close to him. I let his arms support me and his voice soothe me. I do not want to fight them anymore. I want to hide from this that lies before me. I want to hide from what I have left behind me. I want to fall to the floor in my sorrow and fill the room with my tears, but not yet. I cannot yet. I pull his arms tight around me, using them as seams to hold me together. I am still taking baby steps.
The Risen (Book 1): Dawning Page 27