by Nashoda Rose
He stepped closer.
I closed my eyes and more tears fell.
He crouched behind me. I swallowed and kept my hands perfectly still on my lap. It was the familiar clang of his belt being unbuckled that caused the bile to rise in the back of my throat. I took several deep breaths.
I felt him hesitate as if giving me a moment then his unforgiving grip grabbed my wrist and yanked it behind my back. Then he grabbed the other one. I sucked in air at the strain on my arms then relaxed again as he tightened the belt around my wrists. I fell forward, my cheek pressed into the rough planks, exactly like it had been before. It didn’t take long before the memory flooded into me.
The first cut always hurt the most and he made it the deepest and the longest; a slow drag of his dull knife from my hip at my lower back, curving across to just below my armpit. He kept the flat of his palm on my neck, pressing me forward, keeping my cheek pressed into the floor. I felt the rain of blood slide down my heated skin. He wiped it away with a piece of coarse material as if he was cleaning the drips of paint off a canvas.
He cursed. I jerked. His palm pressed harder on my neck and I could feel the ache in my joints as I curled over, further exposing my naked back to him.
I held onto my sobs. It only made it worse when I moved and I had to stay as still as possible. He’d get mad if I ruined his work.
I knew what was next. My body knew and I couldn’t control the trembling. He punched me in the side and I gasped, falling over then quickly righting myself in position again.
“Stupid bitch. Stay fucking still.”
I felt the slap of the wet material hit the fresh wound. I couldn’t control the cry from escaping. I always cried when he did that. I never could block out the pain.
He laughed, the sound like the screech from a badly played banjo.
Then a filthy, black rag, which tasted like oil was shoved in my mouth so forcefully I gagged.
“Not a sound. I told you. No crying. No moving.” He leaned over me so I could see the evil glare in his light-brown eyes. “Your big brother isn’t around to protect you now, is he? I heard he burned to death.” He shook his head, clucking his tongue. “Real painful way to die.”
I silently cried, trying to block out his voice, yet his words cut into me just as painfully as his knife.
He lowered his voice, his peppered breath sweeping across my face. “A blank canvas. That’s what you were. Not anymore. Now, you’re stained.”
His knife drew some kind of design on my back and then pinpricks as if he was making snowflakes. “The perfect little princess isn’t perfect anymore.” My eyes squeezed shut so hard the tears couldn’t escape. The pungent smell of alcohol hit my flesh and slid into my cuts again. Scotch. It was always scotch. I’d never forget that smell.
His breath hit the side of my neck and I gasped, shivering from the pain and fear that coursed through me. “Did you know I got an A in art? The teacher said I had a unique imagination.”
He suddenly yanked me upward by my hair. “Do you know why you were picked, Georgie?”
I shook my head. He was a senior, and I’d never seen him before last month when he first dragged me into the school’s maintenance shed.
“Didn’t think so. Just consider yourself lucky I didn’t pick you myself.” He ran his finger down between my breasts then chuckled when I squirmed to escape his touch. I heard a bang outside the window at the back of the shed and he stiffened and looked up then laughed. “Stupid boy.” He grabbed my chin, tilting my head at an awkward angle so I was looking right at him. “No telling anyone about our little art session, right? You don’t want to lose another … family member, do you?”
I sobbed, squeezing my eyes shut as I silently prayed for him to let me go.
The sudden splash of scotch hit the fresh wounds. I writhed and jerked and screamed, but it was useless as he held me down. “Do you?”
I shook my head.
He shoved me hard in the back and I fell forward. He untied the belt around my wrists and I heard him slipping the leather back through his belt loops. I waited for the creak of the door to open and close before I yanked the rag out of my mouth and vomited until my sides cramped and I had nothing left.
“Chaos? Come back, love.”
Deck? No, Deck didn’t know Chaos. He’d never know Chaos. I kept that from him. I had to for both our sakes.
But there was a small part of me that wanted him to see me. Instead, he believed in the lie I’d become. How could he think I was that drunk girl who wasted her life away? Because I’d made sure he did. I did everything in my power to hide my lies.
I jerked away from the hands slowly helping me up from lying on the floor. He gently undid the belt then removed the rag and I licked the saliva accumulated around my mouth. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, needing time to pull myself back from the memory. Contain the pain that revisited.
I heard him walk to the far side of the shack, the creak of the metal wall as he leaned against it. He’d stay and watch me like he always did. I didn’t know if he did it to make certain I was okay or because he enjoyed watching me curl in a ball and cry until I had nothing left in me.
Tears for Connor. The brother I’d lost and missed with every breath. Tears for the other girls Robbie had hurt. Tears for Deck. Yeah, I cried for him because I knew behind the unyielding man was pain for what he’d seen in his life.
Emotions drove through me—Guilt. Pain. Rage.
Then finally acceptance.
That was why I needed the purging, to prove I was strong. To let go of the weakness I hated so much. To remember who I was now.
It was a long time before the raw emotions became controlled again and I was able to take a deep breath without the catch in my throat. I felt the release, like a balloon being set free in the wind—freedom. It was euphoric and completely fucked up, but it was my fucked up and what happened here worked for me. I could walk away strong and immune to the nightmare that destroyed who I’d been.
It was my way to tuck my past away in the far corners of my mind, not to be released again until I came here.
I sat up on my heels, hearing the soft tread of his approach before he was carefully applying bandages over the cuts. They weren’t deep, and most likely wouldn’t ever scar me. Robbie had made certain of that, too. Wounds that healed so my back could become a blank canvas again, but my memory would never heal.
I patiently waited for him to finish and then picked up my shirt and slid it over my head. I could smell the scotch. It must have splashed onto the material. I watched his long fingers do up the two buttons at the top and then his thumb came under my chin and raised my head so I’d look at him.
He always did that. Looked me in the eyes as if reading whatever was going on in my head. He never said anything, and I suspected it was to make certain I was okay.
He took my hand and helped me to my feet then we walked outside. The sun beamed down on my face so brightly I couldn’t see for a few seconds while my vision adjusted. Every step I took, the cuts on my back rubbed under the bandages. I learned to wear loose clothing when I came here. This time … I’d worn Deck’s shirt. It smelled like him despite the scotch that now splattered the material. Still, if I tilted my chin down, I could breathe Deck in and feel … solid again.
“Faster than usual.” I heard Tanner say as we approached the car.
He snorted and when I looked up at him through parted blue streaks of hair, I caught the fierce glare he sent Tanner. I had the impression he didn’t like him very much, but Tanner had been with us since the beginning. It was odd. If he didn’t like him, why was Tanner still part of this? “Get your head on the job, Chaos,” he said.
I opened the passenger door and slid in, careful to keep my back from touching the leather seat. Like always, my mind was a fog of emotions attempting to block out the memories and bring me back to the numbness of surviving.
“You have the cover story?”
I nodded.
�
�Better be convincing. Vic isn’t stupid.” He looked at Tanner then back at me. “You need to find a balance to what you’re doing.”
I knew what that meant. Cut the drinking back.
He placed the bottle in my hand and shut my door. Fuck. I hated the taste of scotch. I hated the smell and I hated everything about it. I unscrewed the lid and chugged it back, ignoring the scorching pain in my throat and drinking as much as I could.
“Whoa, Chaos. Take it easy. Didn’t you hear what he just said? You need to be drunk not comatose.” Tanner’s door shut and he started the car.
It was only a half-hour back to the city, and I needed to be pretty smashed by the time we arrived. It was the one day of the year that I really did get drunk. All the other times … yeah, it was a façade, a cover-up, but today wasn’t by choice. Getting drunk at Connor’s tombstone then cabbing it home was our cover. I would hide in my bedroom and no one would bother me for days.
Another year gone. Another year filled with lies.
This was who I needed to be.
The perfect chaos.
I HAD TO consciously relax my grip on my cell phone before it crushed under the pressure. Fuckin’ Georgie. I should’ve known she’d do something stupid like this. Shit, I had known. That was why I left Vic with her. Every year, she got drunk at Connor’s grave and every year, I fucked off not wanting to be around to see her destroyed. I had no way to stop her pain, and it cut through me so deeply I couldn’t breathe thinking about it.
I knew exactly what would happen if I saw her upset—I’d take from her what I’d always wanted and that could never happen.
Tyler, Josh and Sam leaned against the crumbling wall of the beaten-down house and watched as I calmly took the news Vic laid out for me. They knew me well enough I may be calm on the outer edges, but past that I was fuckin’ furious.
“How long?” I asked Vic.
“Couple hours. She went by her coffee shop, grabbed a bottle of scotch, and then got in a cab. Located the company, driver was at his kid’s birthday party. Fits her description, but her name was Goldie. Not sure why she’d go way the fuck out there.”
Goldie. “Jesus.” The name of her fuckin’ goldfish Connor had buried in the backyard. “Follow the lead. That’s her.”
“Got it.”
I heard the tires squeal as if Vic was making a quick turnaround. “And Vic?”
“Yeah, Boss.”
“You find her. Lock her down.” It was escalating. It was as if she didn’t give a shit about herself. That wasn’t her and yet … Georgie had become a different person when I came back two years after her brother died. Harder. And the sweetness I used to see in her eyes—vanished.
“Got it.”
I pressed ‘End’ then tossed my phone on the makeshift table. An uneasy feeling crept down my spine and made my stomach churn and my heart pound. Why couldn’t I fuckin’ get through to her? This wasn’t just about her brother. Something else was fucking with her mind to make her want to numb it out with alcohol. It didn’t fit. She didn’t fit.
She was stronger than this. Where was the girl I used to know? It was like she was drifting further and further away from me year after year. She was hiding; I’d known it for years. But what I didn’t know was from what.
What the fuck was I going to do with her? This shit had gone on too long. Maybe it was time to cut her loose like Vic said. Was I enabling her by protecting her? Probably, but the thought of losing Georgie was like having to cut off my leg. I couldn’t do it slow and easy; it’d have to be brutal.
“Fuck.” This mission was too important to not have every man I had available, and here I had one of my best men watching Georgie.
I ran my hand down my face and then got my shit together. I was not fucking this up.
“All good, Boss?” Tyler asked.
I met his eyes then looked to Josh. “Failure is unacceptable. We bring our boy home.”
But it was only two hours later that all went to shit. The snitch turned up, bloody and tortured. Eyes wide open, staring and lifeless. There was a note pinned to his shirt, written in blood.
“Jesus Christ,” Tyler said, crouching down beside the mangled body. “Boss, do you really think it’s Connor? And who the fuck is Chaos?”
Did I think that was him? Fuck, yeah, I did. Only I knew who Chaos was because Connor had called her that and Georgie Girl. “Yeah, it’s him.”
I knew torture. I knew the shit it did to your head. But ten years of it? Even Connor could break under that. Any man would.
This wasn’t bullshit.
Fuck this all to hell. Damn it! I punched the rock wall and blood instantly rose on my knuckles. I did it again and again until Josh pulled me back with an arm around my waist and shoved me.
It didn’t stop me. Nothing would as I picked up the table, laptop crashing to the floor, our map billowing in the air a second before settling on the floor. I threw the table at the wall and the loud cracking of wood splintering felt like me. I was splintering. Parts of me were being ripped off and burned as my anger tore through me.
But it wasn’t just anger. It was fear, an emotion I kept locked down all my life, but seeing that word in blood broke the dam and I couldn’t control it.
I destroyed chairs, ripped up plans, crushed the laptop with my fists. I sensed the men watching and I didn’t give a fuck. This was bad.
All my hope for bringing him home detonated in my face. No wonder it took us so long to locate him.
He fuckin’ didn’t want to be found.
“Boss.”
I heard the voices, but they were drowned out by my madness of destruction. This was my fault. I should’ve found him sooner, but fuck, how could I? I thought for years he was dead. Christ, I’d seen the truck blow up. The memory. The anguish was still vivid in my mind even knowing he lived.
“Boss.”
Now, he was threatening Georgie? Fuckin’ Georgie? His sister? How was that even fathomable? The one person he loved more than anyone.
Because he knew me too well. That was my failure. He knew I wouldn’t give a shit if he threatened me or my men, but Georgie … he knew I’d walk if Georgie’s life was in any way threatened.
“Deck!”
Tyler held his phone out. “You need to take this.”
I really didn’t need to hear what bullshit Georgie had managed to get herself into this time. My patience with her was thinner than a moth’s wing. One more fuck-up and I was tearing free of her. Fuck my word. Fuck Connor.
I took the phone. “What?”
“There’s been an accident.”
It was as if all those words I just thought were blown up with a grenade. My heart pounded and I had trouble swallowing.
Keep your shit together.
I’d been trained by the best to withstand torture, the worst circumstances possible, pain, agony, and yet this tested all that.
I turned away from the guys so they couldn’t read my expression. I needed a fuckin’ second to pull my head from my ass and gain some control.
“She’s in the hospital. Some guy found her unconscious and convulsing at the cemetery.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Deck.” Vic never called me Deck. “It’s bottom.”
Yeah, it was. I slapped my palm against the wall above my head and closed my eyes. “I’ll meet you there. Ten hours.”
“What about Connor?”
“Mission is dead.” I pressed ‘End’ before he could respond. Talking was pissing me off and I had to reel my shit in—fast.
“Boss? She okay?” Tyler questioned.
“No, but she will be.” Because this shit was ending.
I HEARD VOICES calling my name.
Stop it.
It was like I was in a boiler and the sounds echoed, drilling into my head. I wanted to put my hands over my ears, but I couldn’t move. Why couldn’t I move?
I was cold.
Shivering and yet I didn’t feel my body shaking. No, it w
as jerking—hard. I tried to open my eyes but I couldn’t see anything.
“She’s convulsing again.”
Convulsing? Were they talking about me? The last I remembered was being at the shed—in pain. Hurt. Then numbness.
A loud screeching sounded over and over again. I tried to moan, and I think I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Why couldn’t I move? It was like being immersed in quicksand, limbs so heavy.
“You’re going to be okay, miss.”
Miss? Why would he call me miss? I recognized the voice and yet couldn’t put my finger on who it was. Where was Deck? Was he here with me? He was always with me when I fucked up.
Fear swarmed me like a horde of wasps. What did I do? Why couldn’t I move?
“Sir, do you know what happened to her?”
I felt hands on me and wanted to swat them away but couldn’t.
“No. I found her like this.” His voice trailed off and all I heard were a mumbling of sounds blurred together.
I felt a sudden, sharp pain shoot through me and then it was like I was falling through a black hole. My arms strapped to my sides, unable to reach out and stop myself.
It was getting darker and colder.
I screamed and screamed.
But I kept falling, sliding down the dark tunnel until I hit bottom—then nothing.
I BLINKED, ADJUSTING my eyes to the bright fluorescent lights and the sun beaming through the window. Last night, my parents had been the first ones to see me, but my throat was so sore from the stomach tube pushed down my throat I could barely talk. They sat with me a while until the nurse came in and told them visiting hours were over. My dad smoothed my hair back like he used to do when I was home sick from school and then said they’d see me tomorrow.
As I sat up and reached for the glass on the table beside the hospital bed, I heard the slight movement on the other side of the room.
I glanced over, assuming it was a nurse, and my eyes widened and my heart started pounding, which made the stupid machine I was hooked up to beep faster. Fuck. Deck was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and looking sexy in his black cargo pants and … he was furious.