Freestyle

by Bea Paige

  “No! And even if there were, I wouldn’t be discussing them with you.” I can practically see the roll of her eyes as she huffs down the phone.

  “You’re no fun.”

  “I’m not talking about my love life with my little sister. It’s not happening.”

  “What love life, Pen? You’ve not been on a date with anyone since the Breakers left.”

  “That’s not true…”

  “Urgh, you’re such a bad liar. You’re still so hung up on them. You should move on, it’s not healthy.”

  “I have moved on, just like the Breakers did. So, you know, it is what it is.”

  “Tell me you at least slept with one of them…”

  I hear more giggling and roll my eyes. “Goodnight, Lena. Say hello to Laura and Simone for me and make sure you go to bed soon, okay? Bye!”

  “Pen…!”

  I end the call, not willing to continue a conversation with my baby sister about my love life or lack thereof at three am in the sodding morning. Neither am I willing to go there regarding the Breakers, or the fact that I lost my virginity to a wannabe, arsehole gangster who was about as good in bed as he was at dancing. Shit, basically. It was six months after the Breakers left and I was low. I thought sex would help. It didn’t. It didn’t help the poor guy either. Jeb saw to it that he didn’t fuck another girl again for quite some time. Ten broken bones tend to curb a person’s ability to fuck and I’ve lived with the guilt ever since.

  Puffing out my cheeks, I flick off the bathroom light and pad towards my bed, more than ready to collapse and sleep for twenty-four hours. It’s pitch black thanks to my blackout curtains, so I have to hold my hands out in front of me and try not to walk into anything. When I feel the rug beneath my feet, I know my bed’s just to my left. Scooting around the edge I sit down, feeling beyond exhausted. It’s been a long arse day. A long week, in fact. Yawning, I curl up on my side and close my eyes, only for them to snap open half a second later.

  “What the fuck?!” I screech, launching upwards and blindly reaching for the wall.

  My hand eventually slams on the light switch, flooding the room in stark white light. Blinking through the dark spots, I turn on my intruder, my body shaking with adrenaline. Lying on my bed topless and barefoot, wearing just a pair of sweatpants, is York.

  What. The. Actual. Fuck.

  “Get the hell out of my room!” I scream, my eyes snapping up from the tattoo of an old oak tree climbing up his pale chiselled abs and pecs, its roots reaching below the waistband of his sweatpants.

  “Hey, Pen,” he responds with a raised eyebrow. His icy-blue eyes glinting with challenge.

  “GET OUT!”

  He smirks, rising slowly into a sitting position against the wall, his legs stretched out across my fucking bed. “Sounds like little Lena’s grown-up into someone just as feisty as you.”

  “Keep her the fuck out of this and get the hell out of my room!” I repeat, not giving a shit that I’m screaming loud enough to wake up the whole damn floor. In fact, I want everyone to wake up. Maybe someone will come save me from this new level of hell.

  “I wouldn’t bother, Pen. They’re either all out cold from booze, or otherwise engaged… just like Zayn and Tiffany.”

  “They’re sleeping together?” I screech, forgetting that I don’t care. Forgetting that I have no right to feel angry or betrayed or hurt anymore. Doesn’t make it any easier to swallow though.

  York cocks his head to the side, his white-blonde hair falling over his face. He swipes it away and I can’t help but notice the prominent veins in his hand and forearms and the tree branches winding down his upper arms. I swallow hard, forcing myself to look away and concentrate my attention on the middle of his forehead instead. A nice, safe, area to stare at.

  “Would it bother you if they were fucking?” he asks.

  I want to scream, yes, yes it would, but of course I don’t because, frankly, I don’t want to acknowledge those feelings, especially not in front of him. “I don’t give a shit. You need to leave. Now.”

  York smirks, then raises his thumb to his mouth, running the pad over his bottom lip. “You forget, Pen, I can read you like a fucking book. So, do you want to tell me why you looked like you’d seen a ghost after your little chat with Jeb tonight? I thought you were tight?”

  “We’re fine,” I mumble, not willing to meet his eyes.

  “Didn’t seem that way to me. Odd, no, given your relationship.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re fine,” I fumble, taking a couple of steps backwards, needing the support of the wall before my knees fucking give way.

  “I was at the club, Pen. I saw everything.” He was at the club?

  “Your Jeb’s bitch, why don’t you ask him?” I spit back. The best form of defence is offence, right? Besides, it’s not as if he doesn’t know the whole sorry story, well at least part of it. He was there that night too.

  York stands, striding over to me. “I’m no one’s bitch,” he snaps, looking more the bloodthirsty vampire now than he ever did when we were young. He’s so pale, his skin’s almost luminescent, tiny blue veins run beneath the surface entwining with the oak tree’s branches and roots. Close up, I can see the intricate detail of the bark, it’s branches are thick and heavy with leaves, some are leaden with rain drops that drip to the ground.

  “I belong to no one, Pen.” Unlike you. He doesn’t say those words, but I know that’s what he’s implying.

  I flinch, as though he’s slapped me.

  I want him to call me Titch. I wish I didn’t, but I do. Goddamn him. Goddamn all of them.

  Swallowing hard, I drag my gaze away from his tattoo and look up into the eyes of the boy who could, once upon a time, look right into my soul and know exactly how I was feeling. He steps close, his forearms pressing against the wall as he cages me in.

  “I don’t belong to anyone…” he repeats, and I have the sudden urge to capture his cheek in my palm, to feel the dark blonde stubble that grows there scratch against my skin.

  “Except the Breakers. You belong to them,” I whisper back, the crack in my voice giving me away. I grit my jaw, refusing to look away from the ice in his gaze. It’s sharp, jagged, cold… and yet, I can feel the heat from his body like he has a fire raging just beneath his skin, waiting to break through the last layers of the ice in his eyes.

  He leans in close, his lips a hairsbreadth from mine. “You did once too,” he mutters, his forehead pressing against mine. My chest heaves. I’m so fucking close to lifting my chin, to pressing my lips against his. It would be so easy to fall back into his arms. To let him really see the truths that lie beneath this thin mask I wear.

  “That was a long time ago,” I say instead, pushing down the cold dread I always feel when I’m reminded why our friendship was so spectacularly destroyed and why it needs to remain that way.

  “What are you hiding, Pen?” he mutters, almost to himself.

  “Please, just leave.” I duck out of his arms, sliding away from him and backing up to the opposite side of the room. He turns slowly, his eyes glinting. He watches me for what seems like an eternity and I feel naked, bare beneath his penetrating gaze. Every ounce of strength I have is used to stiffen my spine, to shut down.

  “Why didn’t you trust us, huh? Why, Pen?” He asks, but I can tell by the look on his face that was an internal thought he wasn’t supposed to say out loud.

  “Trust?” I bark out a laugh, hating the brittle sound. “You became one of them. How could I?”

  “And yet you…” he shakes his head, laughing just as coldly. He opens and closes his mouth, as though warring with himself. I see a flicker of the old York, the one who wouldn’t hesitate to take me in his arms and hold me close in comfort. “You know what, Pen, this was a fucking mistake,” he sneers, his eyes frosting over once more.

  I watch him leave, every step away from me chipping away at my heart. When he gets to my front door, he turns and any kind of emot
ion he may have let filter through is gone.

  “Did you like the drink by the way?” he asks, his hand curled around the door knob so tightly I can see the white of his knuckles.

  “That was you?”

  “Can’t an old friend buy you a drink?”

  “We’re not friends anymore, York,” I whisper.

  His fist pounds against the door frame. Once, twice, three times, my heart slamming in time with the sound. “I fucking know that, Pen.”

  Then without another word, he yanks open the door and storms out of my flat leaving me breathless and heartbroken all over again. It isn’t until much later, as the rising sun filters through the cracks in the curtains, that I realise the significance of his tattoo.

  It looks exactly like the tree I stood beneath that night we first met.

  21

  Three years ago

  I look down at my phone and the text from an unknown number.

  The Breakers vs Dante’s Crew. Midnight. Abney Park Cemetery.

  I’ve no idea who sent it, but it doesn’t take a genius to work out what this is all about. Dax almost beat Frederico to death at Rocks because of me. This is a score being settled, and I have to put a stop to it.

  What’s the saying? Violence, begets violence.

  Well, this ends now. I mean, I don’t often agree with God, mostly I think he’s some fucking cranky old dude who likes to mess with us all, but he’s got a point with this one. Then again, didn’t the Old Testament also say, ‘an eye for an eye’? Maybe God was in a gang after all, because these arseholes use that as an excuse to fuck each other up all the damn time.

  Either way, this bullshit needs to stop. I can’t let the boys I love throw away their future for me. Violence is just a vicious cycle that has no end and I hate it. Yeah, I might’ve gotten into fights over the years but only ever in defence, nothing more. This is premeditated bullshit to prove which crew has the biggest balls and you can bet your arse Jeb has approved it. The thing is, these days knives and fucking guns are more likely to be used as weapons than good old fashioned fists. They could get seriously hurt, or worse.

  Well, not tonight. No fucking way.

  The air is frigid as I climb the fence surrounding Abney Park Cemetery. Pulling my hoodie up over my head, I jog towards the derelict church situated in the centre of the cemetery, warm puffs of air leaving my mouth in clouds of white. It’s a huge place, with loads of crumbly old headstones covered in faded wording and green ivy glistening with frost. There are a few crypts with creepy looking angels staring down from above just waiting to come alive and scare the shit out of me. The place is dark, eerie, and full of ghosts. This is Xeno’s kind of place. If he wasn’t into dance and gangs, then the guy would be a horror movie director. He fucking loves all this scary shit.

  Despite the full moon, I still need my phone’s flashlight to guide me through the overgrown graveyard. To be fair, it’s the perfect place to hold a fight. No one would be crazy enough to enter here at night. Well, except maybe for a bunch of teenagers with scores to settle and violence bubbling in their blood.

  I pick up my pace, hearing a commotion already, but it’s only twenty to midnight. Surely no one’s here already? I wanted to get here early so that I could step in before the fight started. Stop it in its tracks. Looks like I’m already too late.

  “Well, well, well, motherfucking Teardrop Dax beaten and bruised. You ain’t so clever now are ya?” Frederico roars as I creep around the headstones approaching the crowd of people who are hooting and bellowing at the scene before them. Dax is standing in front of the rundown church, bleeding from a split on his eyebrow and lip. His teeth are bared as two boys hold his arms behind his back. I watch as Frederico rears back and slams his fist into Dax’s cheek. The sound of knuckles cracking against Dax’s cheekbone forces a cry out of my mouth and a white-hot kind of anger that gives me tunnel vision.

  This isn’t a fair fight.

  This is revenge and whoever the fucker was that sent me the text message wanted me to witness it. I don’t know how they managed to lure Dax here on his own but I’m not going to watch the shit get beat out of him. Firing off a quick text to the Breakers, telling them where I am and what’s going on, I pick up a beer bottle that has been left on one of the graves, and sneak around the crowd to the far side of the church to a copse of trees that give me cover. When Frederico punches Dax again the crowd’s frenzied bellowing covers the sound of me breaking the glass bottle, leaving just the neck and a jagged edge.

  I grip it tightly in my hand, biding my time.

  “You think you could get away with what you did to me, huh? Think again, motherfucker,” Frederico snarls. “By the time I’m through with you you’re gonna be nothing but a vegetable.”

  Dax lifts his head and smiles, baring blood-covered teeth. “Fuck you, cunt. You hit like a pussy.”

  Frederico tips his head back and laughs, then launches himself into the air before slamming his fist on Dax’s cheek, the force of the blow forcing him to his knees.

  When Dax’s head drops between his shoulders, blood covering his face, rage takes over.

  Fuck this bastard and his crew. Fuck them. This is my dark angel. My fucking heart, and they’re hurting him.

  I came here to prevent a fight, but it’s too late for that now.

  Now I’m going to end it. Violence begets violence. Yeah, it fucking does.

  “Get your fucking hands off him!” I scream, running full speed towards Frederico. Dax’s head snaps up, droplets of blood splattering the stony ground as Frederico twists on his feet.

  He lifts his hands to protect his face as I slash at him, catching the back of one hand. He roars in pain as the jagged glass slices through his skin.

  “YOU FUCKING BITCH!” he roars.

  I turn to face him, holding the broken bottle out in front of me. “Let him go you cowardly piece of shit. Three on fucking one. You’re nothing but a dick. I should’ve let Dax kill you when he had the chance.”

  Frederico laughs, narrowing his eyes at me. “You really are feisty, aren’t you? A perfect little side-piece. She fights, she dances, and she gets gangbanged on the daily. Sure you don’t wanna join my crew? I’ll make it worth your while.”

  The crowd laughs, and Dax tries to break free from the boys’ hold, but one of them elbows him in the side of the head and he’s knocked out by the force.

  “You wanker!” I scream, as the boys holding Dax drop him to the floor unceremoniously and step towards me, cracking their knuckles. Dax is sprawled across the floor and I want nothing more than to go to him, but if I do then we’re both dead. I need to fight, or hold them off long enough until the Breakers get here.

  “Stay the fuck away from me!” I shout, backing up the stairs of the church and lunging at the three boys as they creep closer to me. All three of them look deranged, and it’s clear from the size of their pupils that they’re fucking high too.

  “Now, now, Pen. We just wanna see what all the fuss is about,” Frederico says, his salacious gaze roving over me.

  “You get any closer and I’ll cut your fucking throat!” I shout, ready and willing to do just that, but I miss a step behind me and stumble backwards, dropping the broken bottle. It rolls away down the steps and out of reach as my arse hits the hard stone with a painful thud.

  I scramble for it, but Frederico and his two goons lunge for me, getting to me first. His two minions grab my arms and I kick out, catching Frederico’s jaw with my foot but my aim isn’t true, and it doesn’t do enough damage. With my arms trapped above me, Frederico straddles my hips, pinning me to the floor.

  “Yeah, baby!” he shouts out, fist bumping the air as the crowd reacts. I feel their violence as though it’s an untamable beast slicing at my defences with sharpened claws. It permeates the air, making my heart pound and fear tightening around my neck like a snake asphyxiating its prey.

  “You’d do anything for the Breakers, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I would,�
� I retort through gritted teeth as I twist my torso, trying to throw him off me. “I’d do anything for the ones I love.” Leaning over, Frederico, presses his mouth against my ear.

  “Are you sure they’re really worth it?”

  “I know they are!”

  He laughs. “You really have no idea about what they’ve been doing in Jeb’s name, do you, Pen? You’re so fucking gullible.”

  “Fuck you!” I scream back, thrashing beneath him.

  “It would make your skin crawl,” he continues, taunting me. “Those motorbikes they drive were bought with blood money, Pen. You think just because they dance they’re incapable of hurting someone. You really don’t know them very well at all, but I can help enlighten you. Join Dante’s Crew and you’ll have my protection, for life.”

  “No! I’d rather die than join your crew,” I spit.

  “Shame,” he smirks. “I guess fucking you will have to do then.”

  I scream loudly, fighting with every last scrap of anger as I buck and twist, thrusting my hips upwards in an attempt to dislodge him. This was all a fucking setup to get me here. He wanted me that night at Rocks, but Dax made a fool of him and served him his arse. Now he intends on taking me to prove a fucking point. The fucking rapist.

  “Try it and see what happens,” I snarl back.

  Frederico raises his hand and slaps me hard against my check. “I’m going to enjoy this!” he retorts, unbuckling his trousers. He’s too caught up in his actions to notice that the crowd behind him has quietened. I stop struggling when I see Xeno towering over him, holding onto the jagged bottle I’d broken earlier.

  “Get off our girl, you dirty piece of shit,” he growls, bringing down the broken bottle and sliding it across Frederico’s cheek. Blood spurts from the wound. A bright red arc that splatters across the concrete steps not far from my head.

  Frederico’s scream is drowned out by Xeno’s roar as he hauls him backwards off me.

  The two guys who were pinning my arms down, let go and launch themselves upwards. Only to back off when a gunshot is fired into the air.