by Bry Ann
His eyes darken.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Yeah, alright. I want to see Mandi go upstairs and all three of your men leave with me,” I say, way more calm than I feel.
“You’re a brave fuckin’ soul, kid. I’ll give you that.”
It’s like Mandi is just starting to process what’s happening. Her breathing picks up until it makes almost a screeching sound. The second he lets her out of his grasp, she runs over to me and grabs my face.
“No, Brantley! No! They’ll hurt you. Oh god. I’m sorry. Oh god, please don’t. Please let me—”
“Grab her,” the dark-haired man growls.
They grab Mandi and start to drag her toward the stairs.
“BRANTLEY, NO! NO! PLEASE LET ME GO!”
“Dear God, shut her up.”
They stuff a piece of fabric in her mouth. She kicks and fights and screams into the gag, but they are way too strong for her. I see them drag her into the apartment. A second later, they all come back out.
That’s when it hits me.
There’s no one else out here.
Everyone ignored her screams.
I’m alone with them.
And I have to let them take me.
6
Fifteen Years Old
The gag cuts into my mouth. I feel blood seeping in on the sides, but I don’t give a shit. My heart is hammering in my chest and my fists are clenched on the armrests where they are tied down. The dark-haired man is circling me, spinning the knife on his finger like I’m prey.
I sure feel like prey.
“I’d tell you my name, but I don’t suppose it matters. Does it, kid?”
I look around the room, where I know several men are hidden in the shadows. I’m sure they think my size will be a problem. That I’ll fight, and have a shot at winning. That’s laughable. I don’t really know the first thing about fighting, and even if I did, I wouldn’t risk Mandi like that.
I’m totally helpless.
Shit, I’m scared.
I try to mask how hard I’m shaking, but this is horrifying. How did Mandi get caught up with these people? I already know the answer to that.
“Guess not,” I groan.
The dude nods and cocks his head to the side, gesturing for one of the men to come out of the dark. I tug at my restraints. Man, fuck. Shit. My eyes water and I start to shake. I take a look around the room. It’s dingy, like what you would expect from this sort of thing, but it’s so much different when it’s you tied to the chair. I hope the thought that I’m sparing Mandi will keep me tough for this, but I’m so scared. I want my mom. I just want my mom.
The man comes out. Despite my terror, despite everything, he’s still approaching. Shit. Water starts to spill over.
“Now he cries. I was waiting,” the dark-haired man snickers.
I’m so humiliated.
The first sting of the blade burns. It hurts so fucking badly. I suck in a breath through my teeth. The shadows feel like they are closing in on me. I really don’t want to pee my pants, but I feel like I’m gonna.
I’ve never felt more helpless. The restraints feel like snakes peeling off my skin.
I’m all alone.
Mom.
A tear slips down my cheek.
Once the man does a few preliminary marks with the blade, he steps aside and hands the knife to the dark-haired man. A whimper escapes my lips. Please, let me go.
“Your friend should have been smarter,” is all he says before drawing the knife down my bare abdomen.
I scream so loudly that it echoes off the walls. It’s like a torch is being drawn down my skin. How does this hurt so badly? Are they going to kill me? They said they wouldn’t. It’s just punishment. Taking the heat for Mandi.
Mandi.
Sunflowers.
Shit...
The blade won’t stop. Why won’t it stop? I start to cry. Scream. My face. Oh god, my face. I’m coated in blood. I’m so filthy. I’m gonna be sick. The knife keeps going, cutting every inch of my skin, ounce by ounce of blood washing away my innocence and who I could have become at fifteen.
I’m no longer a kid.
I start to cry so hard. I’m shaking, but not from fear anymore. My body is too riddled with pain to stop the tremors.
I end up wetting my pants. They all laugh, but I’m stuck. I’m stuck here in blood and piss. I start to sob as time blends. There’s no beginning and no end. It’s all endless blood and pain.
“Mom,” I cry. “Mom. Please.”
This time, there’s no laughter.
“Over here!” A man yells.
My chin has long since lost its ability to stand tall. Everything’s on fire, yet strangely numb.
“Help,” I croak.
The dark-haired man is directing his men out. Before leaving, he comes over to me and hovers so I can feel his breath in my ear.
“We’re even. Mandi’s out, but you’ll never be the same.”
I can see his evil grin from the corner of my eye, but all I hear is that Mandi’s out. She’s out. I protected her. Despite everything, a ghost of a smile fights to appear on my face. I’m too banged up for it to actually appear. This wasn’t all for nothing.
“Oh, fuck! Get a medic. Someone get down here. Shit!” A younger guy screams. “Hey, kid, hang in there. Okay? We’re gonna get you outta here.”
The restraints that kept me in place are being jerked from my wrists and ankles. The pain is insane. It’s too much, too intense. I’m shaking so hard from the blood loss.
“Hey, you with me, kid?”
“Mand…” I can’t finish. My head lolls back.
And it all goes black.
But not for long. Not long enough.
“Mr. Taylor, you with me? You with me? We’re getting you out of here.”
I’m on a bed. I notice that right away. There are cords or straps or something around me. Or maybe that’s the blankets? I don’t know. God, the pain. The blood. I want it off me. I’m gonna retch.
I’m rolling, rolling, and then cool air hits my skin. It’s too cold. I start to shake. My teeth chatter together. I gag again.
“BRANTLEY! Let me through! Let me through!”
I know that voice. Mandi!
I try to turn my head, but it hurts. God, it hurts! I groan. I want to grab my head and hold it. Protect it. Urggghhh…
“Brantley, oh my god. Oh my god. No. No. No.”
Mandi sounds like she’s worse off than me. She’s in shock, horrified…
“Mandi,” I whisper in what’s left of my voice.
“Brantley,” she chokes, too shaky and scared to touch me.
“Safe. Out. You… safe.”
“No…” Her voice gives out moments before her legs do. I see an EMT grab her before she hits the ground as they roll me into the ambulance.
“Wait,” a firm female voice calls out. “I’m coming in.”
Mom. My mom. My whole body relaxes into the bed. I even hear the EMT make slight noises of shock at the positive change in my vitals.
All I want is my mom.
She runs in and they shut the doors, driving off to the sound of sirens. The EMT’s are running around frantically, doing shit to me. I can’t process them. My mind only has two trains of thought:
Pain
Mom
“Oh, my sweet boy. My sweet, sweet boy.”
My mom’s crying, shaking her head back and forth, disbelieving, but still strong. The impenetrable fortress I know her to be.
“Mom.”
I want to reach for her hands so badly, but I can’t.
Blood.
“Shh, save your energy, sweetheart. Save it.”
She gasps, and her voice gives out. She turns away from me so I don’t see her sad.
Mom. I want to call out to her, but my voice won’t work anymore. The machines start beeping, and my mom starts freaking out. She touches me, holds my hand and my hair, not caring that she’s getting blood all over her work uniform.
&
nbsp; “Fight, Brantley. Fight.”
That’s the last thing I hear before my world goes black.
For good this time.
7
Nineteen Years Old
The year after everything happened was just as anyone would expect. God awful. I spent weeks in the hospital, only to find out I’d be scarred forever. I’d forever be the scarred monster reflected back at me in every damn mirror.
“Another shot,” I call out to the bartender.
He looks at me warily. I’ve already drunk my weight in alcohol tonight. I don’t care. Clair. Shit. I thought she’d give me a shot. I thought she could see past the scars. I’m a fucking idiot. Everyone is repulsed by me.
“Is it coming or what?” I snap across the rectangular table.
The bartender glares at me, but slams it in front of me.
“Thank you.”
Dick.
Anyway, after the incident, Mandi fell apart. She cried herself to sleep every night in the living room, trying her damndest to be quiet. But Mandi’s not subtle. She stopped sleeping in my room. Stopped being able to look at me without her whole body giving way. She refused all her meals, and went through life like she was on autopilot. She lost weight and lost her shine. She was nothing but bones, pale skin, and dark circles. No flowers. No bright colors. Everything that made her Mandi disappeared.
If she did get stuck in a room with me for one reason or another, all that would come out of her mouth was a mumbled apology before she broke down in tears and had to leave.
I was so mad at her. So angry and confused. Confused because I know what happened wasn’t really her fault. Her father even went to prison for what he did to her. He manipulated a young girl who was desperate for her father’s love. He used her abandonment issues and her fear to con her into doing his dirty work. Once she was in, she was trapped. I knew that. I understand it. But for some reason, the anger was still trapped inside me. Not an explosive rage, but a dull anger that ate at me bit by bit. Her naivety almost got me killed, at best sentenced me to a fate almost worse than death. It left a monster that no one but my saint of a mother was able to look at.
I honestly wasn’t sure our friendship could survive it. I wasn’t sure I wanted it to.
I can pinpoint the exact day I decided to forgive her. I was in my room, and Mandi didn’t know I was home. She came running through the front door. She was a complete mess. I was picking at my covers, thinking about ways I could hide my appearance from the world, when I heard Mandi enter. She was crying. No, sobbing. A complete blubbering mess, unlike the silent, teary, numb girl she’d been since she saw me on that gurney.
“Tina,” Mandi yelled as she ran in. “Tina!”
I peeked around the corner. I saw my mom stand up in shock, and wrap her arms around Mandi.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” Mandi sobbed. “I’m an awful human being. I need to die and go to hell. I’m a sick person.”
Thankfully, she choked before she could finish. Even angry, it hurt real bad to hear her talk like that.
“Listen here.” Mom grabbed Mandi’s face and held it gently between her hands. “Never say stuff like that. You both will get through this. You hear me? What happened was not your fault.”
“I want to use!” She confessed, tucking her head into my mom’s chest. “I need help. I can’t do that to Brantley. I’ve never used. I swear! I’m a devil. How could I want to after…”
Her throat gave out and she started to cry again. She cried so hard, her little body looked like it was convulsing. When she finally started to come down, my mom pulled her away and rubbed her hair back with a gentle smile.
“I’ll get you help, okay, sweetheart? I’m so glad you came to me. Your family has a huge history of addiction. Some of this is genetic. It doesn’t make you a horrible person. The fact that you came to me says much more about your character than your desires do. Actions, not thoughts, are what matter, Amanda. I promise you that. I am so proud of you.”
I backed away from the corner. I knew then that I didn’t want to lose her friendship. For her. For me. I mean, I went through all of that for her in the first place.
I rounded the corner when my mom finished speaking. Mandi’s eyes nearly popped out of her head and she backed up until she slammed into the wall.
“Brantley, I… I… oh god.”
My mom looked at me with concern in her eyes, for both of us.
I ignored both of them and went to where Mandi was standing. She started to shake. Her gaze went instinctively to the ground, unable to look at me. Anger started to settle in my lower stomach, but I shoved it aside.
She has every right to be disgusted by my appearance.
When I was right in front of her, I grabbed her frail shoulders and pulled her into me.
“We’ll get through this, but you have to want to, Mandi. You have to want to.”
Her hands tightened in my t-shirt and she started to sniffle loudly against me.
“I’m so sorry, Brantley. I would have done it for you. I would have.” She gasps and starts to shiver.
“I know, Mandi. I know you would have.”
My mom squeezed my shoulder and silently left the room. Mandi and I spent the rest of the night crying, eating, and watching movies, and then I forcibly moved her stuff back into our room. Our friendship has been strong ever since. She still has trouble looking at me, but then again, who doesn’t?
My mom. My amazing mom. She’s never once so much as flinched when it comes to my appearance. Not even the day I woke up from my medically induced coma. She blinked a few times with water in her eyes and called me her sweet boy. She’s never treated me differently. She’s stayed strong through everything. She sacrificed and sacrificed, and still managed to carry enough love in her heart for both of us.
She’s the one who enrolled me in fighting.
Naturally, since she’s so much of a fighter herself. I’ve never known a stronger woman. I don’t want to.
I had moved out the day I turned seventeen. It wasn’t my mom or Mandi. I just couldn’t do it. That damn town. The looks I got. The moms pulling their kids away from me. Women giving me pity stares instead of wanting to fuck me, like before. I hated it. I was drowning, so I left.
I got my black belt, and started training in every fighting style I could. It’s about the only thing that kept me sane.
To this day, that remains true.
I never had any expectations for anyone, until I met Clair. I really thought she was able to see past my scars in a way that no one but my mom has ever been able to. I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong.
“Another shot!”
The kid at the bar comes over.
“Look, man, I really think you’ve…”
The look I level him with cuts him off right there. I try not to be an asshole, but I need to drink. I need to forget. I’m a hundred miles from the only two people I love, and even if I were there, it wouldn’t matter.
I’m just as alone.
No one can fucking look at me.
My vision’s getting blurry, but I still rub my hand over my heart. It hurts. I wish I knew, when I was that kid tied to a chair, that the knife isn’t the part that hurts the most. It’s the loneliness, the ostracizing. Everyone says it’s what’s on the inside that counts. That’s bullshit. If you’re ugly, you’re lesser in this society. It’s fact. It’s in the way you’re looked at (or not looked at), who befriends and dates you, who hires you. You have to work twice as hard to be noticed.
I hate this. I need more.
I need to get drunk.
You are drunk, asshole.
I get in my car, somehow get myself to a liquor store, and buy the strongest thing I can find. I don’t know how I get the chick running the register to sell it to me, to be honest, but I do. She probably figures I could use it.
I don’t even wait to get home to drink.
As soon as I get to my car
, I tear into the bottle and chug. Glug. Glug. Glug. Down the hatch. Forget.
“Oh shit, Brantley. I don’t like you like that.”
She winced after I tried to kiss her. Winced.
“You’re great and you have all the makings to be uber hot, ya know? You’re just not for me. I’m sure there’s someone.”
There’s no one. Clair and I hung out, went on what I perceived as dates (where I paid) and then the moment I moved in to kiss her, touch her, she recoiled like I was a snake versus a man with a heart. I’m so fucking stupid.
Glug. Glug. I need more. Glug. Glu…
Black out.
I guess that’s what I was going for all along.
Success.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The subtle beeping is all too familiar to me. Shit, I’m in the hospital. I shoot up out of bed and groan. Holy fuck, my head. My stomach.
No. They can’t tell my mom or Mandi about this. It’ll kill ‘em. They’ll make me go back home.
“You finally up?”
I spin around to see a guy from my Krav Maga studio sitting in a chair, legs sprawled out in front of him. He’s quiet, and a ruthless fighter. He talks to no one. He only comes to the box to fight. Hell, I don’t even know the guy’s name.
“What are you doing here?”
My voice is hoarse. I guess that’s what happens when you nearly drink yourself into a coma.
“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that, right?”
I grunt. Yup.
“Good. Name’s Blade.”
I involuntarily lurch and shoot back. Blade, knife, blood, my skin.
The guy’s eyes roam over me once.
“Just a nickname. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“What are you doing here?”
He may be a good fighter, but you know what? So am I.
“You need help.”
“I don’t need shit.”
He smirks. “I’ve watched you fight. You’re good. Really fucking good, but that’s not why I’m here.”
“Oh?”
“You’re smart. You fight hella smart. Sneaky. It’s why they keep hesitating to move you up.”