by Bry Ann
I walk from the room, ready to pull out my plans. What the fuck to do about my bastard of a father?
Ding dong! Ding dong!
Grumbling, I push myself off the couch to the door. I don’t even want to know who it is. The doorbell at our house never means good things: cops, reporters for Sage, criminals, employees of my father.
It’s all a mess, one I need to get cleaned up if Sage is ever going to have a normal life.
I swing the door open. All the air leaves my lungs when I see who it is.
“Lacey?!” Shock I can’t hide echoes in my voice. “What are you doing here?”
I step outside, aiming to block her from going inside, but she steps forward and stops me. There’s an energy coming off of her that I’ve never felt before. Anger. Bone deep anger. It makes me pause. I look into her steely grey eyes, which are narrowed on me.
“I’m alone,” she says, knowing I don’t want anyone in her life around Sage. That relieves me a bit. “What are you doing here, kid?”
That nickname doesn’t seem to fit her now. Not at all. Not one bit. I’m intimidated, which rarely happens to me. I’m a criminal, for crying out loud! She’s a little girl.
“You knew,” she whispers. It’s not her usual shy, withdrawn voice. No. Her voice contains anger and hurt. She’s trying to hold herself together. I’ve been a victim of her anger once before. Her words send chills up my spine.
Of course this would fall back on me. It always does. Honestly, I never thought Lacey would take it this far. It’s been a year! I knew from day one why my sister was murdered. I was stupid to think Marketta would just let his cash cow go. So fucking stupid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me!” She screeches, slamming her palms into my chest.
I grab one of her wrists. “Watch it.”
I feel my darkness coming out. I can be the most lighthearted man in the room, but there’s a side to me that I wish didn’t exist. It’s dark and deserted, and was shoved inside of me at a young age, put in a place I can’t reach, can’t access or dig out.
“You knew! You knew! When we met for lunch.” Tears leak out of her eyes. “I’ve spent a year on this. Every. Single. Day! You’re a coward. You’re nothing but a fucking coward! She deserves justice.”
“There’s more to this than…”
She ignores me completely and keeps screaming.
“You’re gonna help me, Nix, or so help me God! The man who killed her will be behind bars! I don’t care what it takes. I hate you. I trusted you! You’re just like everyone else.”
I grab her other wrist.
“Watch it, Lacey.” “Or what, huh? I’m not going to watch it! What would your girlfriend think?” My hands dig into her wrists impossibly tightly. She doesn’t even wince. She simply narrows her furious gaze so her eyes dig deeper holes into my soul.
“Break my wrists for all I care! It won’t change anything; I won’t stop.”
“You think it’s this simple? Lock Rod up and it’s all fine?” I scream back at her. “Are you really that fucking naive? Jesus, Lacey, I see how you got yourself all wrapped up in this shit.”
All the blood drains from her face. Instantly, I regret what I said.
“Lacey, I didn’t… I’m…”
“You knew who killed her,” she whispers, brushing off the insult I threw at her. “You knew. I hate you, Nix! I know it’s not simple. I’m not an idiot! I have the scars to prove it. But, Jesus, she’s your sister! Are you really that heartless? Isn’t she worth the risk?” I release her wrists.
“You know I love Rose. It nearly killed me that I wasn’t there to protect her, but—” “There’s no but!”
Lacey runs her hands over her tired face.
“If you won’t do anything, let me. Tell me how to take down Rod. I’ll get him behind bars. You never have to go near any of them. Let me do it.”
“Don’t get involved in this shit, Lacey.”
She stares at me like she’s disgusted.
“I thought you were so different.” She shakes her head. “I should have known. I’m pregnant, Nix. I need this done before I get too far along. I want my sole focus to be on the baby.”
Lacey’s hands instinctively go to her stomach. I stare at her in shock. She’s pregnant?! I’m surprised her body’s even capable of that after all it’s endured.
“I… uh…”
“Will give me answers.” She cocks an eyebrow. “Help me, Nix,” she whispers, eyes pleading. “Do the right thing. Please.”
“Lacey, I can’t.”
I can’t risk Sage. I can’t even begin to tell her how deep this all goes, but the look of complete disappointment on Lacey’s face guts me. She now sees who I really am.
“I really am sorry, kid.”
“Save it. Just… save it.”
She turns to leave.
“Wait, where are you going?” I call after her.
Lacey shrugs. She doesn’t even turn around. I glance at her form, her oversized sweatshirt and baggy pants. The clothes she uses to hide the scars she won’t show anyone.“Stay out of this, Lacey. You’ll get hurt.”
She turns back to me then.
“I’d rather die. I’d rather die than give up on my friend. I’d rather die than be like you: a coward.”
“Lacey.”
She has no idea what my father is capable of. Killing Rose is just a piece of Aaron Marketta’s larger puzzle. A cruel, sick one, run by solely by his desire for power and control. She has no idea how deep the pain of Rose’s death runs inside me, but with Sage on the line, I can’t afford to fall apart.
I remember watching Rose from afar when I was a kid, wishing I could meet her. Be her, even. Her life seemed so perfect, and for a while it was. Her and her white blonde hair, frolicking all over the place. She was the cutest kid. I blink past the sting in my eyes and heart.
I’m glad Sage is in one of her coma sleeps, because she didn’t need to hear any of what we just discussed. I watch Lacey walk down the road, shoulders down, one hand over her stomach, looking dejected. She glances at me once in a while, hoping I’ll change my mind. I won’t. I’m just as stubborn as she is. It hurts that I’ve let down the only person close to Rose. Ended that relationship. That last connection to the sister I barely knew, but loved nonetheless.
I’m twisting the leather bracelet on my wrist when I see Lacey start to drive off. Not even a hundred feet down the road, a black Mercedes cuts her off. Immediately, I slam open my door and take off down the road. The car swivels around, blocking her path, probably going a hundred miles an hour. I run as hard as I can until I see a familiar Armani suit and dark, slicked back hair exit the car. I sigh and hide behind a mail post, arms crossed, and watch. I need to confirm that she really is safe before I leave. He seems to love her, but I don’t freakin’ know how he handles situations in which she clearly goes against him. After watching Sage suffer for so long, I can’t run off before I know another woman with PTSD is taken care of. If he doesn’t understand her actions, even for a second, I’m stepping in.
Even though I didn’t help her.
I fucking hate myself.
Lacey didn’t even move from her car after she was cut off. She had momentary panic, but she seemed to recognize the car immediately. When he exits the car, her shoulders stiffen slightly, the only sign she’s at all nervous. Her arms go limp in her lap and her head falls into her chest. My chest squeezes tight. I did that to her.
I hate my stupid fucking life. The game I have to play. The people I have to hurt to keep the people I care about safe. I don’t want to be what they made me! Rose got to die pure. Even in death, I’m so jealous of her.
I look back at the house to the one person who keeps me going. Green eyes. Beautiful, pure, haunted green eyes.
I breathe and watch the scene unfold before me.
Lacey stays in the car, folded into herself. Her mafia boss of a boyfriend walks toward her. I see his bodyguard
s watching him. He’s in a full suit, looking furious. His sunglasses block most of the expression from his face, but the tension hangs around him like a cloud. I’ll give him this: he’s a man who commands attention.
He goes to her window and stares down. When he sees the sadness coming off of her in waves, his face twists from anger to conflict. He taps the window with two fingers. Lacey weakly clicks the door open, not moving any other part of her body.
He crouches in front of her door. I don’t hear what they are saying, but I know he’s confused about how to handle the situation. He was probably worried sick, since now I know he had no idea where she was, but he can’t really yell at a woman looking that sad and hopeless.
They talk for a few minutes. A tear falls from her cheek and both hands go to her stomach. She looks there and squeezes her eyes shut tight. I move slightly closer to hear what they’re saying.
“A year and I still haven’t put the man who killed her behind bars. How can I be a mom? I can’t even help my friend.”
She still doesn’t look at him, but he gently touches her cheek and turns her face toward him.
“Let me help you,” he whispers. “Come on. Share with me what you know.” Fierceness takes over his gaze. “You know I’ll get the justice you need. Let me.”
She bites her lip. I know that now she’s also trying to respect the fact that I don’t want him near my life. God, she’s such a decent human being who doesn’t deserve any of this. Even her devil of a boyfriend sees that, because he’s a whole different person with her.
“I don’t know,” she finally says. “Let’s just... go home.”
“Alright.”
I run off then. I know he rode with her and had one of his guards drive his car back. I walk through the door to see Sage standing there with her hair sticking up all over the place. Her tired eyes ease some of the tension from my shoulders.
“What’s going on?”
She looks so small and vulnerable. I walk over and kiss her head. Some of my self-hatred dies off when I touch her. The one person I’m a hero to. I’m not bad to her. I know I’ll never let her down, like I do everyone else.
“Nothing, babe.” I wink to hide the lie.
She rolls her eyes and messes with my hair.
“You little liar.”
My lip twitches. “Me? Never. There’s nothing little about me.”
She chokes on the innuendo.
“Liar, then. You’re a liar.”
I know she’s kidding, but I am. A liar and a killer and a dream crusher.
A coward who let his sister down, in every way possible.
“Hey,” Sage whispers. “Come back. Come back to me. I need you.”
“Here, babe.”
She pushes her fingers close to my eye sockets.
“Not what these are telling me.”
I shake my head. “I’m here.”
“Liar,” she whispers, running her fingers from my haunted eyes to my soiled heart.
Sven
Six Months Later
“How are you, Sven?”
“Fine.”
“Three months without a drink today. How does that make you feel?”
“Like less of a little bitch.”
The therapist shakes her head.
“Sven, it was never a weakness. You were hurting and dealing the only way you knew how. Now you’ve learned to deal in other ways.”
I shrug and roll my eyes. “The corniness of this all will never stop being ridiculous.”
She smiles. “Maybe, but it works. You’ve worked with me for six months now. You’re not a man who does things he doesn’t want to do. So for once, say something nice, Sven.” My lip twitches. This brash old woman has grown on me.
“Nice, huh?”
“Yes, nice. Try ‘thank you, ma’am, for helping me not lose myself in a bottle forever.’”
At that, I laugh and shake my head.
“Never.”
“One day,” she smiles. Then her face slips back into her professional mask. “So, last week, we discussed Savannah. This week, I want to discuss the man who ‘raised you.’ I use that term loosely.”
I stiffen. “What about him?” She leans forward. “Whatever you feel comfortable talking about.”
“I’m fine talking about this. Whatever you want.”
“No, you are fine talking about it with people who don’t care, who take your story as evidence or information to store. People who care or have the intention of helping you, you are downright terrified to tell your story to. And no matter who you tell, you leave details out, don’t you?”
She cocks an eyebrow and leans back. My hands ball into fists by my side. I swallow, hating how well she is able to read me.
“He was abusive,” I say coldly.
“How so?”
“When he’d get back from ‘jobs,’ I was his outlet.” “Do you feel comfortable explaining what that means?”
I hesitate. I’m Underboss. Way past childhood scars. This is ridiculous. Like always, she seems to read my mind.“Sven, ego has no place here. Everyone has things they need to heal, but few are brave enough to own up and face it head on. It makes you stronger and reflects on the strength you carry in your position, not the weakness of it.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“What do you crave most, other than power?”
I hesitate. Rose. Love. Her face softens.
“Before you met Rose. In your… world.”
“Easy: control.”
She smirks and leans back, lifting her chin.
“Men with power know how to deal with their emotions and are not scared to face them. Well, any man who has power long term.”
“I hate that you’re right,” I groan. I pause and try to breathe.
“He did anything he wanted,” I say, uncharacteristically quiet. “Beat me. Burned me. Belittled and mocked me.”“Sven,” she says softly. “Anything else?”
A rush of feelings hit me, ones I haven’t felt since I was a kid. Any cocky bone in my body is crushed under words. Under the memory. I squeeze my fists into my eyes. My fingers twitch for my notepad.
“I want to be done,” I admit. I’m so exhausted. All this shit is wearing me down.“I know,” my therapist replies softly. “Sven, were you abused sexually?”
My hands fly to my ears.
“Stop! Damn it, just stop!” “Alright, Sven. Alright. It’s over. It’s okay. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
I want to run out of here, but for some reason, she has my damn respect. Why do I do this to myself? “Can I go? Can this be over?”
“Yes,” she says quietly.
I don’t wait for her to say anything else. I run out of there, straight to my room. I want a drink. I need a fucking drink! I turn around and head for the kitchen. I need a drink. Fuck. A drink and my notepad. Pain. It’s searing hot inside me. Total fucking embarrassment.
I’m turning in when I see Lacey, six months pregnant and looking it, meal prepping in the kitchen.
“Sven,” she gasps when she sees me. “Are you okay?”
I don’t answer. I run out, leaving her there, staring at my receding form. I should have just gone to my fucking room. Fuck the drink. I find my room and slam the door shut, locking it. For the first time in a year and six months, I don’t write a letter to Rose. For the first time in twenty something years, I read my letters. The secret ones I hid when I was a small boy. The letters I swore I’d never touch again.
It happened again. He never promised it wouldn’t, so I don’t know why I thought it would stop. I’m stupid. A stupid, stupid boy. He always just throws me out after he does it, slurring his words, telling me to keep my mouth shut. Savannah has to come pick me up out of the dirt. I don’t mind when he and his friends hit me or whatever, but I hate this. I feel SO gross. Savannah offered to help me get cleaned up, but I don’t want to see her. I can’t even look at her. She knows what happened and I hate the way she looks at me.
One day, no one will know. I’ll be too big for anyone to touch me.
I’m gonna go clean up.
Bye, I guess.
-Sven
HE DID IT AGAIN! I HATE HIM! I FUCKING HATE HIM! I’ll kill him one day! One day, I swear, I’ll be big and he’ll be scared. Scared of ME for a change!
I hate him! I hate this skin because it makes him want to do THAT!
He’ll regret this.
-Sven
I wish Savannah would take me away from here. The only time she is nice to me is when he touches me where he shouldn’t. She keeps saying she has to care, but she doesn’t, really. She only does when he touches me bad.
The bruises don’t hurt like that does.
I think they are all trying to mess with my head, but I won’t let them.
I’m too good for them. I’m meant for big things, and when they unfold, these sorry sons of bitches will be just that… so fucking sorry.
-Sven
I slam the homemade scrapbook of memories shut. I survived that. It’s over. It’s over. I blow out a breath. Some heaviness leaves with the carbon dioxide being dispelled from my lungs. In a way, it feels good having another living person know. But it makes me vulnerable. I hate that. I’m just starting to earn back the respect I’d previously earned.
The last thought I have after I finish getting ready for bed and pulling the covers over my naked body is how proud Rose would be to see me taking therapy so seriously. The irony in it all. That the thing that Rose loved and believed in most was psychology, and the thing that drove me to it was her death. Sick, sick, irony. It’s a cruel world. Of course, we all know that. My eyes close into blackness, leaving no more room for memories to surface. Bye, world…
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I jump out of bed. I feel oddly rested. Weird. My face scrunches. Why would such an awful day have led to such a peaceful sleep?
I shake my head. I don’t want to think about it. I get dressed and head out. I find Boss sitting at the dining room table with his legs on the table and his shirt partially unbuttoned. There’s a mug of coffee on the table and he’s rubbing his fingers together mindlessly.