Brutal: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by S. Valentine

  The man stops moving and I know he’s passed out. I release him and his body drops to the floor. Abdul rips off his keffiyeh and robe, obviously finding them restricting. He swipes the machete in the air and I block it with the chain, holding it with both hands. Another man throws the hammer at me, and I duck, off guard, and Abdul slices the machete into my bicep. I scream loud like a crazed person, the pain making me grit my teeth, and tears wet my lower lids. I can’t bring myself to look, fearful the sight of blood will make me woozy.

  I quickly kick Abdul’s legs from under him and he falls. Then I snatch the machete and cut into the other man’s arm, and aim for the other, who ducks fast.

  I don’t like using the machete. Using weapons is cheating in my book, so I throw it with all the force I can muster across the warehouse. Then I punch and hit and kick the men coming at me, over and over, until each one is injured enough to not come back for more.

  Only Abdul remains now and we have a fight off. He hits me in the face, and I swing back and miss as he ducks. He hits again, but he’s too late, as my kick gets him in the stomach. Within seconds we’re on the floor, beating eachother, pummelling our fists blindly. Fast. Hard. Until we’re breathless.

  “Stop!” Amara’s cry comes, but we ignore it.

  I’m exhausted, bleeding, and in pain. I manage to sit up and I squeeze Abdul around the neck. He gasps and splutters, pleading for release. “Take the money. I will never let you hurt Amara.”

  His eyes bulge, and he tries desperately to stop me. His fingernails dig into my wrists, but I continue to strangle him.

  “Take the money. I’ll look after your daughter. She doesn’t want to live her life the way you do. I’ll help her get refuge status. Leave her be.”

  I release him, giving him chance to answer. We’re both bloody and bruised. I doubt he has any energy left.

  “Which is it? Take the money, or we keep fighting until I kill you.” Although my mood is brutal, and I’d probably get done for manslaughter as I’m acting in self defense, I don’t think I could actually murder this man. He’s Amara’s dad and he’s no longer a threat. I don’t believe he can hurt me now.

  I begin to strangle him again until he’s gagging, his eyes closing, and his limbs weakening. Then I let go again. “Will you leave Amara alone? Take the money, go home, forget she ever existed.”

  He nods his agreement and I stand up. The men are all sitting around, injured, too feeble to move. Amara is in the corner, her mother restraining her, preventing her from running. She’s crying, in hysterics, and I realise I’d lost my sense of hearing when fighting with Abdul.

  “Say goodbye to your parents,” I tell her. “We’re leaving.”

  She pushes her moms arms away and races toward me. Not to her dad, not to comfort her mom, but to me. Her hug is tight and she cries against my chest, before examining my arm.

  “You’re hurt.”

  I nod. “I need a hospital. Hurry.” I’m a bit woozy now, my balance not the best. Stripping off my T-shirt, I rip it and wrap it around my bicep, to stop the bleeding.

  Amara goes to her father and kneels at his side. I can hear her apologising and crying, explaining why she did what she did, and how she’s happy now for the first time ever. Then she apologises to her mom, and hugs her, even though her mother tries to withdraw.

  “I’m sorry. I love you and I’ll miss you, but I need to live my life my way. I have to be true to myself.”

  I pick up the money and throw it to Amara’s mom. She catches it quickly. I’m not even suprised nor disappointed in this. Taking Amara’s hand, I lead her out of the warehouse. She doesn’t stop crying the entire way to the hospital. I allow her to let it out, to curl into a ball and grieve the loss of her family. She isn’t wearing her seatbelt and although it has me on high alert, I keep my mouth shut.

  “Everything will be okay,” I tell her gently, and stroke her back with my free hand. “Your family and Thomas won’t hurt you again.”

  Amara is no longer in danger. They’d all be crazy to come back for more. Once I help Amara get asylum in the UK, and she can be here legally, there’s nothing they can do. Catching sight of my face in the mirror, I’m horrified at my bruises and cuts. I sigh and hold in the emotions building in my chest. At least I’ve finally been able to save someone I love. Now it’s time to face my old love, the one I couldn’t save. I make up my mind to go to Brighton as soon as I’ve recovered from my injuries.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  AMARA

  I blink my eyes open, and once I register the arm around my waist, and the warm chest pressed against my back, I smile, sleepily. This is the best. Waking up with Elias, to his cuddles, is so satisfying. He winces in his sleep when I accidentally knock his injured arm. It’s bandaged up. Lying there I stare at him in complete silence, just appreciating his gorgeous, but swollen and bruised features. I want to kiss him so bad, but I hold back, not wanting to disturb him. He looks so innocent when he sleeps. His hair is tousled, his stubble longer than usual. The covers have slipped off, revealing the top half of his body, his strong arms and big, defined chest. When I drag my stare up, I notice his eyes are now open and my cheeks heat in embarrassment at him having caught me staring.

  “Morning,” he whispers and shuffles closer.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Bit sore, but I’ll live.” He half smiles. “What about you?”

  I pause for a second to hide how upset I am. In all honesty I’m devastated. I can’t believe how things went with my family. That day I’d gotten Lori to take me to Thomas’s to get the meeting location from him. Then Lori had taken me to the warehouse. What had I been expecting? A big, friendly reunion? I’ll never see my family again. It’s the price I have to pay for freedom, for happiness.

  “I’ll be fine,” I respond to Elias. I have to be. I’ve got no other choice in the matter, it’s sink or swim.

  He strokes my hair out of my face and kisses me on the lips. I kiss him back, intending for it to be a simple peck, but he pulls my face closer and the kiss becomes deeper. I love him. He makes me feel warm inside, and my sadness diminishes. His fingers delve into my hair, gripping it a little too roughly as if he needs me urgently. My tongue laps away at his, and our moans mingle.

  His hand moves down my neck, and cups a breast, his thumb circling my taut nipple making it tingle. I groan and arch my body when his tongue comes into contact with it. He sucks and flickers over the tender bud repeatedly and repeats the action to the other. My body heats with arousal. It feels sensational. I wish he’d never stop.

  “So beautiful,” his voice is like an agonised plea.

  His fingers slide down my skin, and after circling my clit several times, satisfied I’m turned on, he pushes into me.

  “Elias...” I murmur, taking hold of his erection and sliding my hand up and down in firm, controlled movements. He stops what he’s doing to let out a groan before continuing to tease my breasts.

  We fondle one another until the pleasure becomes unbearable and we need more. He’s now rock hard so I straddle him, and we start kissing again, fast, and hurried. I lower myself onto his shaft and gasp as I take it all. I have to brace myself for a moment and adjust to his size, which is always a tad painful at first until I’m familiarised. Grimacing, I move up and down, and again.

  Elias is panting, his eyes dark with desire and desperation. The way he looks at me makes me feel like the most wanted woman in the world. I slide backwards and forwards, over and over. Impatient and needy, Elias grabs my hips and helps me move, filling me deeper and faster.

  “Oh...” I cry out. ‘Elias...I love you so much.”

  He rocks his hips, meeting my thrusts. Our lower bodies connecting makes repeated slapping sounds. We go faster and harder, our breathing becoming heavier, our moans louder.

  I press my lips together, as he pounds into me, and I match his frantic movements, riding him with wild abandon. I can feel him throbbing inside me and I know he’s close
to release too.

  Closing my eyes I’m unable to hold back. Every inch fills me and a powerful orgasm rushes through my overstimulated body. I’m shaking and moaning, in exhausted pleasure. Elias stills, his face contorting, and he climaxes over and over, groaning and thrusting.

  Afterwards I drop onto him and he supports my weight easily. Our skin is hot and damp with sweat. We lie still until our heartbeats slow down and our breathing is calmer. Then Elias strokes my hair tenderly and I graze my nails up and down his arm affectionately. I want to marry this man so much.

  “I love you, Aisha Hamed,” he whispers.

  My heart tightens. He loves me, the real me, the girl who isn’t perfect, who’s made many mistakes, and probably doesn’t deserve him.

  “I love you, Amara Jain.” I can sense he’s smiling.

  He loves the other me too, the one with regrets, and wants to be a better person.

  “I love you too, Elias Cortez.” I’m infatuated by every single part of him, even the parts he hates because it makes him human.

  “Fancy a shower together?”

  I nod. We shower together under the warm water, caressing one another. Afterwards when we’re both dry and dressed, we sit in the living room with our bowls of cereal and eat.

  “I’ll be working with Maverick later, and my old client Elliot is back, so I’ll have more work too.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Elliot knows a few people who need a bodyguard a couple of times a week. I can pay off my loans, and we can live comfortably.”

  I kiss him. “All I need is you, and I’ll be the happiest girl alive.”

  “Will you be okay here? Maybe ask Lori to stay with you when I’m working, until you feel comfortable.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I don’t have anyone after me now and I’m less afraid. I could still get caught for being in the UK illegally, but I’m intending to try and resolve it soon.

  ***

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  Having called the Home Office to book an appointment to seek asylum, I’ve since had a screening interview with an immigration officer, which involved showing my passport, proving my UK address, and having my photo and fingerprints taken. I’d then had to answer many questions including why I can’t return to my home country, and my fears of doing so. I’m waiting on a second interview, and then I’ll need to attend regular reporting meetings. Afterwards a decision on my asylum claim can take up to six months.

  I hope I’m not denied. It’s tiring and painful discussing everything, and maybe having to appeal worries me. I just want to get on with my life.

  “Everything will be fine,” Elias’s mom tries to reassure me.

  The afternoon is spent eating, drinking and chatting away with Elias and his family. The whole time I’m there I’m sick with anxiety, knowing my claim could be unsuccessful and all of this can be taken away from me. It’s the worst feeling in the entire world. Existing without Elias will be impossible. I’ll never be happy again.

  Chapter Fourty-Four

  ELIAS

  I tighten my hold on the steering wheel and have an urge to be sick. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m shattered from a night of tossing and turning and I almost bottled this trip. My head is pounding, my stomach in knots. I’m on the way to visit Kaley’s parents, Sarah and Derek. Amara is beside me and my parents are in the back, needing their own peace and closure. I’m unsure if facing them will bring me closure. It may make everything worse. The past resurfacing could send me over the edge for good this time. I’m hoping Amara is my strength. I take hold of her hand and squeeze it, needing support. She offers me a soft, sympathetic smile.

  “I’m here for you,” she promises.

  After a long, tense journey, we reach our destination. Just walking up the path has my legs shaking, and fear pulsing through me. What if they still hate me? Blame me? I’ve been living with guilt for so long, and this might not be the way to ease it.

  I press the doorbell and wait, fighting my desire to run and never look back. Can I really face seeing Sarah and Derek’s dishevelled, devastated appearances, the sadness in their eyes of losing their only daughter, because of me? It was my fault no matter what way we look at it. Fuck. I inhale air. I can’t do this. I can’t. I turn to leave, but Amara rushes by my side and urges me on.

  It’s too late. The door creaks open and there they are. The people who had treated me like family, who had adored me until Kaley was killed. Tears prick my eyes and Sarah burst into sobs, causing Derek to hold her in comfort. They invite us in and we follow them into the living room.

  “It’s been a long time, Elias,” Derek says, swiping at an escaped tear.

  “It has.” I link my hands together to prevent them from shaking.

  “Why didn’t you come and see us after...after...” After she was buried are the words he can’t bring himself to say.

  I close my eyes for a moment, then reopen them. My parents and Amara are in the kitchen, giving us some privacy.

  “I couldn’t bear it,” my voice wobbles. “It was my fault, and I knew you hated me. Blamed me.” I tilt my head back to trap in more tears. Being strong is impossible right now. “If I hadn’t had enemies, Kaley wouldn’t have been in danger. She wouldn’t have been killed. It was my fucking fault,” I grate out and my emotions burst free. Burying my head in my hands I cry hard, harder than I ever have.

  Sarah and Derek are silent. I’m unsure if they’re giving me time to compose myself, or whether they’re at a loss for words, or biting their tongues, the urge to scream abuse at me simmering. I’m utterly bewildered when Sarah rushes to me and holds me in her arms, stroking my back.

  “It’s okay, Elias,” she whispers. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  I glance up and wipe my eyes. Of course it was my fault.

  “You had a high risk job. Making enemies was probably inevitable,” Derek states, his bottom lip trembling. He swallows and his adam’s apple bobs. “You warned Kaley not to go out.”

  Sarah sits beside me and holds my hand. “You weren’t to know those evil men would know who she was, or that they’d do what they did.”

  “But none of it would have happened...”

  “Elias,” Derek cuts me off. “We were angry and depressed for a long time. We couldn’t face you, just like you couldn’t face us.” He comes and sits at the other side of me. “When time passed, we needed to see you face to face to have this talk, but you never wanted to.”

  “I couldn’t,” I choke out.

  “We’ve accepted it wasn’t your fault.”

  I’ve wanted to hear those words forever. I’ve prayed to hear those words. Dreamt of them over and over. I never believed they’d ever be uttered. It’s like a gigantic weight has been lifted off my chest and I can breathe properly again. They’ve accepted it wasn’t my fault. Hearing them say it sort of makes me believe it. I couldn’t have predicted Kaley would have been killed. I couldn’t have stopped it. I tried to warn her.

  “I loved her,” I mumble and I break down once more. I’m unable to keep myself upright and I collapse onto Sarah, bawling my eyes out. My whole body is trembling. I clench my teeth hating myself for being a weak pussy, but it’s been a long time coming. “I fucking loved her!” I repeat.

  “We know you did,” Sarah soothes. “We know you did, Elias.”

  All three of us spend a good few minutes crying and just letting it all out. Afterwards my dad apologises to Sarah and Derek for hurling abuse at them down the phone the time they blamed me for Kaley’s death. I then introduce them to Amara, scared they’ll hate me for moving on, but they welcome her with open arms.

  “It’s about time he was happy again,” Sarah says, clamping her lips together, all emotional.

  We then spend a couple of hours reminiscing about Kaley, looking at photographs, and sharing stories, the good, the bad, and the ugly. I’m glad Amara is present. I want her to know about the past I can’t properly talk about. I want her to know everything. We la
ugh and cry and comfort one another. Then it’s my time to properly make peace with my past. Leaving my parents and Amara be, I promise to return in half an hour.

  The whole time I’m driving, then fretting over which flowers to buy, and waiting in the queue, and travelling to the cemetery I’m a mess. I can just about keep myself on my feet when all I want to do is drop to the floor and give up on this mission, but I can’t. I owe her a goodbye.

  When I’m finally standing at her grave, I tighten my hold on the flowers, and take deep, calming breaths.

  “Kaley Lee Jones,” I manage to sob out her name. “Baby.” I crouch down and place the flowers carefully before the gravestone. “I miss you so fucking much.” I squeeze my eyes shut abruptly, trying my hardest to be brave. “You were everything to me. I was empty before you.” I drop to the ground needing to release the tension in my legs. “I miss everything about you. Your smile, your infectious laugh, the way you danced so beautifully. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.” A low cry eases out of my throat.

  “I miss your bad habits too. The way you used to wind me up so bad. How you never ordered dessert, and then stole mine. When you made me watch crap chick flicks.” I chuckle at the memory. “I miss your terrible driving, and how you were so stubborn, always thinking you were right, and never were.” The tears roll down my face. “I never did get to marry you.” My bottom lip quivers. “But you know I wanted to.”

  I remove her engagement ring from my pocket, kiss it, and put it with the flowers. It’s so hard to let it go. “I love you, baby.” I stand. “And it’s time to say goodbye.” I rest my hand on the gravestone and cry one final time. “I’m going to try and be happy for a bit now.” I stare up at the sky as if expecting some sort of sign. When it starts spitting with rain, I’m paralysed with guilt. It’s like she’s crying from the heavens and it kills me. “I’ll never forget about you,” I promise. “If I ever have a girl I’ll call her Kaley, or Lee for a boy.” I swallow. “And one day I’ll be up there with you, so make sure there’s room for me.”