by Gypsy Reed
I hate leaving her on Saturdays. It’s not just because we live in a seedy area of this shit city. I’ve become very attached to her and her baby. I obsess over things, obsessive-compulsive behavior, it’s at the root of my addictions. But crazy as it seems, Sara is the cure for those addictions. I don’t need them now, just her, just the baby.
My gut survival instincts kept me alive for years on the streets. I still trusted it. As I walked the blocks to the abandoned warehouse where they held the underground fights; those instincts screamed at me to go back home. So I did.
I ran the last block and saw the fancy black sedan parked across the street. It was empty except for a car seat in the back. It was a mistake not to carry a weapon. I had grown a little complacent; most people knew me on the streets. They knew I was crazy and what I could do with my fists, so they didn’t fuck with me ever. I picked up a brick and went inside.
The guy just inside the entryway dressed the same as the men that had attacked Sara. I never knew there was a dress code for assholes. I only had a moment before he saw me. I slammed the brick into his head and grabbed his throat. I hit him again in the temple, and his lights went out.
I looked up the stairs and saw another man on the landing. I couldn’t sneak up on him, but I couldn’t wait either. I didn’t know how many more there were or what they were doing to Sara and the baby.
I used my long legs to sprint up the stairs three at a time, my arm drawn back; I whistled, “Heads up.” And threw the brick into his face as hard as I could. He hit the wall behind him from the force of the blow. His hands went up to his face as he slurred a curse. I grabbed his gun. I hit him in his broken face with it, and he fell on his ass. I put my knee in his chest and shoved the muzzle into his mouth, then I pinched his broken nose closed. “How many more?”
He gasped, unable to breathe, and I shoved the barrel in deeper. I repeated myself, then realized he couldn’t answer if he were deep throating a Glock. I let him catch a breath. He replied immediately, “Garreth ith there, tha sall.” he was missing some teeth. Reminded me of a jack-o'-lantern.
I shoved the Glock in as deep as I could and held his nose tightly until he stopped moving and trying to breathe. I wanted to pull the trigger and finish it, but I was hoping we weren’t heard, and that I still held the element of surprise.
I reached for the doorknob and a feeling of absolute calm settled into me. Violence normally amped me up, but my purpose muted that. I would die for Sara. I would pay any price to keep her safe.
I surprised them both. Sara was standing in front of the baby’s crib like a shield.
Her eyes widened at the gun I held. Whoever this asshole was, he’d already lost patience with her “Just give me the baby Sara! You can stay here in this shithole with your drug-addicted scumbag boyfriend.”
When he glanced at me, I saw she had busted his face with something. He wore a furious expression. The only reason a man gets that angry is that he’s lost something he wanted badly. He had a gun, but he didn’t point it at her. I assumed because he didn’t want to hurt her.
“Fuck. I never wanted any of this to hurt you.” His shoulders slumped, and he looked at me “He’ll just send someone else. He won’t give up until he gets what he wants.”
“Who?” I raised my gun.
He looked at Sara, “Nathaniel Hastings. I killed them for you, Sara. For what they did to you. I would have done it even if Nathaniel hadn’t ordered it. I’ve always loved you.”
“You tried to kidnap my baby! You’re crazy!” she shrieked. Then she looked at me, her eyes wet and hurt, “I don’t understand this.”
“I’m here. It’s all right. You trust me?” I asked her, unsure. She seemed on the verge of a complete freakout. She nodded, and I continued, “Take the baby into the bathroom. Stay there until I come for you.”
She looked into my eyes for a minute, breathing deeply, and then did tell her. My attention focused on him “So you told me who, now I need to know where.”
He smirked, “He’s untouchable. You can’t get to him. He’s in federal lock-up.”
“If you fucking love her so much, why didn’t you protect her?”
“I underestimated a sociopath. Nobody betrays my uncle. Don’t believe me, dig up my cousins that I planted in the ground on his orders and ask them how that song ends!” he spat red-faced and bitter.
“You called me a scumbag. But even I know you don’t put down your own blood. Family is all that matters and all you can count on in the end.”
“What the fuck do you know about anything Truman Murphy?” he looked smug that he knew who I was. That meant this Hastings douche knew it too.
“I know you can ask your cousins when you see them in a second if I’m right?” I told him, then squeezed the trigger.
Sara Jane
FOR THE LAST SEVERAL months, I’ve been in a perpetual state of flux. Tru has been my only constant. But I’m more confused now than I’ve ever been, and that’s saying something. I do what he says, and he has kept me safe, taken care of me, us.
When your man is pointing a gun at the stranger trying to kidnap your baby, and he tells you to hide in the bathroom, you do it. I never doubted he would come for us. I just didn’t know how long every second after that gunshot would truly be.
I’m not an idiot, even though I feel like one often. Maybe whoever I was before is better off gone. If dangerous men with guns come for her and her baby. Who the hell was Sara Hastings?
He was going to get my son over my corpse. I surprised him. I guess I really am a different person than the one he knew. But seriously, who in their right mind would hand over their baby to someone with a gun because he asked nicely? I felt crazed, like I could destroy someone with my bare hands. That man who knew me, that stranger, tried to take my baby from my arms. My forehead still stings from when I head-butted him. I only knew to do that because Tru had gone on some rant about how to do it properly, without knocking your own self out in the process. What had happened to the world that Tru was likely the sanest person currently in this apartment?
Tru had spent the extra time after the shot, packing two bags. One for the baby, one for us. He wasted little time after that; taking us to a motel, the kind that didn’t ask questions and accepted cash. Now I was even more afraid because he had killed someone. Even with amnesia, I still knew that committing murder meant you went to prison. I didn’t want to lose him; I needed him; we needed him.
Tru
I DID THE LAST THING I ever thought I would do. I called my family. I needed to do anything in my power to protect Sara and the baby. There was only one person I could trust in the world with that, Mitch Marshall.
Sara had handled things better than I would have if I were her. I told her everything I knew about that night. How we had met initially, tried to make her understand the reality we were facing. Then she slept, I took care of the baby so she could get the rest her brain needed.
Mitch had only said he would be in touch. For him, that meant pounding on the door like the police at a time too early to be morning and too late to be night.
Surly was a kind description of Mitch. He was a biker, an outlaw, and the kind of man who after years of no contact would drive for hours to practically break down your door, just to help. Actually, he would drive that far to kick my ass too.
He gave the baby and me a once over, then shook his head.
“Get the fuck in here, man.” I spat at him, sticking my head out to make sure we were unobserved. There were a lot of nosy fucks about.
“Still fuckin crazy Tru. I don’t know why in fuck I thought that would have changed.” he shook his head as he came in and I shut the door. He spun around, “For the past ten years I thought you were fucking dead! I’m guessing you’ve been off your meds that entire time, judging by that crazy ass phone call.” He looked at my arms, at the healed scars left by my self-medication. I knew what he was thinking.
“I haven’t used in months thanks to Sara and the baby
.”
“That’s great, Truman, but you need the lithium. Do you realize how long we looked for you, how long I looked for you?” it pissed him off, and he had every right to be.
I ignored his question, “That shit numbs me out. How would you like to not be able to feel anything?”
“What do you think that shit does?” he pointed at my arms.
“Don’t make me regret calling you.” I hated it when he was right, mostly because it meant I was wrong.
“I drove all night to come to get you. I’m taking you home, now get your shit together. He yours?” he asked brusquely, surveying the room and spotting the other occupant. Sara somehow was still asleep on the bed; her back was to us, and all you could see was lots of long blonde hair with the legs and ass of a supermodel.
“He’s Sara’s, and they’re the reason I called you. I need you to take them and look after them both.”
Mitch sat down in one of the two chairs in the crappy little room. He just stared at me, and I stared back, not backing down. His jaw set in stone, “Why the hell not? The more, the merrier. I’ll take them, but you are coming too.”
I shook my head, “No fuckin way. I need to make sure they’re safe. I need to be sure nobody comes after them again like last night. He said, ‘he would send more men,’ I can’t let that happen. I have to kill him.”
“Tru,” he leaned forward and rubbed his eyes “How do you know any of this shit is real if you’re not on your meds?”
I laughed, I couldn’t help myself “I wish this were some fucked up delusion, or a drug-induced hallucination, but this is real. I really killed a man last night, he was going to kidnap the baby, hell he tried to take Sara too. He wasn’t the same one from that night, the one who hurt her so bad. I swear to you this Mitch, I will blow up that federal prison and every motherfucker in it if it will keep Sara safe. No one is going to hurt her ever again.”
“Whoa, you’re not making sense, none of this. I need a drink.” He went outside, came back in with a flask and turned it up before resuming his seat again.
“You need to start at the beginning.”
MITCH LISTENED AS I told him everything that had gone down in the past year. I tried to tell it in the most linear way I could. My brain doesn’t work that way, so it was difficult.
“Every word is true,” Sara spoke softly getting up from the bed and coming closer to us. Then she pulled her hair away from her once perfectly beautiful face. She was still pretty, imperfections never mattered to me because I had so many of my own. Sara’s were all on the outside. Even though she didn’t believe me hers were minimal now, mine were more deeply rooted and internal.
He didn’t wince, but he smiled. He gave Sara an up and down. I tried not to get pissed about that. Mitch being my brother; a notorious horndog and us having such similar taste in women.
“How’s Lorraine doing these days?” It was petty, but I never claimed to be above that.
“She’s happier than a pig in shit since the divorce.” He winked, and Sara blushed.
“Sara go put some pants on.” I hated him ogling her.
Her face turned even redder, “Oh my god!”
Mitch snickered as I handed him the baby and helped her get dressed.
“Stop laughing, asshole. She has brain damage.” It came out too angry, but I hated anyone making fun of her.
Sara froze, then slapped my arm, “You didn’t have to tell him that, Tru. Now he will look at me weird.”
“No, he won’t. Mitch?”
“Hell no.” He swore as he held the baby up high in his arms and acted like he was going to drop him, much to the baby’s delighted squeals.
Sara watched him cautiously, “Please don’t let go of him.” She barked at him.
“Never, sweetheart. This boy’s a keeper.” He chuckled with the baby.
She looked at me “You call me that. You have the same eyes as him.”
“We have the same mom.” I was trying to gauge her emotions and failing.
She nodded, and I kissed her forehead, “You okay?”
She answered by kissing me, and we got carried away for a moment before I stopped her. It would lead to something else quickly. We both had poor impulse control, especially with one another.
I sat down next to Mitch and Sara took the baby to feed him. “What’s the kid’s name?”
“He doesn’t have one yet.” Sara sat on the bed and popped her tit out and started nursing him.
“Fuck's sake, that kid’s almost crawling age, you got to name him.”
“I can’t decide, but when I hear it, I’ll know.” Sara smiled and caressed the baby’s head.
I wanted to clock my brother for watching her nurse the baby the way he was, but I didn’t want to scare Sara. He looked at me “I’ll take ‘em both. Got four boys already, I could use one more, and I got no old lady at present. I could use one of them too. You can stay here and blow up federal buildings.”
I knew what he was doing, but it didn’t matter; I lost it and leaped over the table at him, swinging. Sara screamed. Never fight an outlaw without a plan; never fight when your emotions are in control. He pinned me down with a hand on my throat.
“You’re still an idiot, Truman. But I still give a shit about you, that’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m going to help you, all three of you. You think you can leave your family with me and fuck off and get yourself killed you got it all wrong brother. Lost you once, that ain’t fuckin happening again. This is what’s going down now; you are coming home with me, and you’re getting back on your meds. I’m going to help you take care of your family until you can do that on your own. Because in case you missed it, shithead, you’re a dad. Don’t matter, you didn’t put that baby inside her, you love his mother, and you held him when he was born. You killed for them, and you want to kill me for even insinuating taking your place. So stop talking about blowing shit up, cause it ain’t going to happen.”
“You’re still no fun, Mitch. Get off me fucker.” He was right again.
“You understand me then?”
“Yes, fuck yes, just let me up. Where’s Sara?” I looked around, not seeing her.
The door was wide open; the baby was lying in the middle of the bed. Torn between looking for her and staying for him.
“I’ll watch him.” Mitch sat down next to him.
I tore out the door and nearly fell on top of her; she was sitting on the concrete just outside the door. She was crying, her face entirely wet.
“Are you crazy, Tru?”
“I’m supposed to take meds for it, but I don’t.”
“I have brain damage, it might not go away.”
“We both have issues, Sara.”
She nodded, “Why didn’t you let that man take us last night?”
She surprised me, “What?”
“You would give us away today to Mitch? I don’t understand, and I hate that I’m too stupid to get it.” She hit the side of her head.
“Sara,” I grabbed her hand to stop her “All I want to do is protect you both. I’ll do anything to make that happen.”
“But,” she huffed, “But how can you do that, Tru, if you’re not with us? Please make me get it, I can’t. I don’t.”
I pulled her into my arms as she cried and tried to calm her. My brother was right again. I was an idiot, Sara had brain damage, and even she made more sense than me. We made quite a pair. But we weren’t really, we were three, and that made more sense to me than anything ever had before.
Mitch
SARA WAS SWEET AND very agreeable with a smoking hot body. I was partly serious about keeping her, brain issues and all. I know she hides her face because she thinks she’s ugly. It makes a man have to ask. Just how good looking was she before?
Tru had become a man. My little brother suffered from a sickness that had no cure. Sara was more broken than he was. But they fit together like a perfect fucked up puzzle. They’re like two teenagers, they fuck like rabbits at any opportunity. I
admit a little jealousy of what they have with each other.
I never had that. Not even when Lorraine and I were actually teenagers. We made the best we could, but we never made each other happy. She’s downright congenial since the divorce, on her way to the life she wants. I thought she’d move on to date a lawyer or some other professional type fucker. She’s doing a plumber now, I’m not sure if I should be insulted or not. I’m glad all the fighting is behind us, and that sure as fuck is better for our boys. It’s the only thing we ever agreed on in our entire marriage.
