by J, Bella
“I think you should eat,” he pressed, but I ignored him and got underneath the sheets.
“I’ll bring you something.”
“Please don’t.”
“Alyx, don’t be stubborn.”
I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Believe me, I’m a lot of things right now. Stubborn ain’t one of them.”
I heard him sigh. “I want to help.”
“Why? Because your brother told you to?
“Nope. Me being here has nothing to do with him.”
I closed my eyes. “Wish I could say the same.”
“Alyx—”
“Please leave.”
“Listen. You need to eat and drink something. You’re weak.”
“I don’t want anything.” I clutched the white blanket tighter then pulled it over my head. “Please leave, Onyx.”
“Don’t do this to yourself, Alyx. It’s not worth it.”
Tears burned the back of my eyes, the reason I preferred to be catatonic, to not feel anything. Feeling nothing was better than feeling something that had the power to crack your soul wide open.
“Leave, Onyx.” I closed my eyes, willing the tears and pain away. Then I heard the door close as Onyx left. But then it opened again, and footsteps followed. I peeked from underneath the sheet.
Onyx placed a bottle of water on the bedside table then sat on the floor with his back against the wall. “I’ll sit my ass right here until you decide to drink that water and eat those crackers. If you’re hellbent on being malnourished and dehydrated, I’ll join you.”
I bit my lip. The last thing I needed was a man trying to be a hero by wanting to help me. “I know what you’re doing, Onyx. It won’t work.”
“What am I doing?”
I turned halfway and glanced at him over my shoulder. “You’re trying to make me feel guilty by torturing yourself. It won’t work.” I lay back down. “Not when I no longer feel anything.”
“That’s a lie.”
I closed my eyes, trying to shut him out.
“You still feel. As long as you have a heart, you still feel.”
This time I let out a soft laugh. “I’m good, then, since your brother tore my heart out of my chest and let it bleed out with her while she hung from that goddamn ceiling with a—” I choked on a painful sob as my words painted the picture I had managed to forget…until now.
“Stop, Alyx. Okay? Don’t do this to yourself. There’s nothing you could have done.”
“But there was something your brother could have done. He could have saved her, but he chose not to.” The words left a bitter taste in my mouth.
“It’s not that simple.”
Through the tears of guilt, I laughed. “Oh, my God. It seems that’s the only thing anyone can say around here. ‘It’s not that simple.’”
“Well, it isn’t. For you, everything is black and white. Right or wrong. But you need to open your eyes. Nothing in this entire goddamn world is black and white, and we’re the lucky sons of bitches living in that thick, fucked-up gray area.”
“She lived in this gray area too.” Tears slipped down my cheek, the saltiness exploding on my tongue, and I wondered if this was what guilt tasted like. “Neon was a part of this world with you, yet you chose to let her die.”
“Why the hell do you care so much? You hardly knew her.”
My heart beat a little faster, a sliver of anger starting to thaw the ice in my veins. I sat up and turned toward him. “Is that how it is for you? That you can only mourn someone, feel guilt over hurting someone if you’ve known them for a certain amount of time?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t get why you’re beating yourself up over this. Even if it was as simple as you claim it to be, Granite…we are responsible for what happened to Neon. Not you.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” I pulled my hair out of my face by weaving my fingers through it. “If it wasn’t for me being my father’s daughter, none of this would have happened. If it wasn’t for me, your brother wouldn’t have needed to choose between me and Neon. If it wasn’t for me, your brother wouldn’t have torn my clothes while he fucked me.” Onyx flinched, but I kept going. “If it wasn’t for me, Neon never would have left to go buy me some new clothes. If. It. Wasn’t. For me. Neon would still be alive.” I cocked my head to the side. “So, tell me, Onyx, what or who is the common denominator in this fucking equation?”
Pulling his palm down his face, he sighed. “You.”
“Exactly. So even though your brother refused to save Neon’s life, I’m the goddamn reason this happened to her. And I might not have known her for that long, and I might have met her under these cruel circumstances, but she was nice to me. And she was a fucking human being with a heartbeat. Now, please leave, because my guilt is all the company I can stand right now.”
I lay back down and pulled the blanket over my ears, trying to cover myself as much as possible. If only there was a way to hide the shame and the pain I felt. Granite seduced me, and I succumbed so fucking easily. If only I had fought harder, tried harder to not give in to the lust and the way my body desired him. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been smothered in shame like I was now. Then I’d merely have the pain and guilt of being partly responsible for a girl losing her life.
But I didn’t fight hard enough. I caved. I succumbed, and I opened my fucking soul to him, gave him something I could never give someone else. And I’d be forced to live with that shame for the rest of my life. The shame of a naïve ballerina girl. The shame of a girl who thought it was possible for the dark to fall in love with the light. Granite was dark, and I was light…well, at least I used to be. Not anymore.
Onyx rounded the bed to stand in front of me again. “I’m going to leave, but when I get back, that bottle of water better be fucking empty.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll strap you to that bed and shove a fucking IV in your goddamn arm.”
“That sounds fun.”
“I’m serious, Alyx. I won’t just stand aside and watch you wither away over something you had no control over. But your wellbeing? That is something you do have control over.”
Onyx turned and left. The door closed behind him, and I waited for the click of the lock. But there wasn’t any. Was I that far gone in my mind that they didn’t think I’d try to escape? Or was this supposed safe house safe against people getting in, and people trying to get out?
Closing my eyes again, I took a deep breath. The room smelled new, clean, with a subtle scent of lavender. It was unfamiliar, and it piqued my curiosity. I cursed my inquiring mind making it impossible for me to fall asleep again.
Frustrated and annoyed, I pushed the blanket off me, placing my hand on my forehead as I stared up at the ceiling. It was white, plain, and looked like every other fucking ceiling. Even the one Neon hung from like a slaughtered pig. The memory made my gut wrench and my chest tighten. It wasn’t an image anyone would easily forget. The look of agony on her face was haunting. The sight of blood dripping off her body was terrifying. I wondered if he thought about it, if Neon’s face plagued him. I hoped it did. I hoped her face wouldn’t allow him to close his fucking eyes at night.
I sat up and put my legs off the side of the bed. My head spun, a bout of nausea rushing through my stomach and up my throat. It was a sensation I had been very familiar with. The feeling of your body protesting in desperate need of water and food. Lucky for me, it was also something I knew how to ignore. It wasn’t the first time my body had been starved. Dehydrated, yes, but not starved.
Shutting my eyes tight, I waited for the dizziness to dissipate. It only lasted a few seconds, after which I let my gaze sweep across the room.
Gray walls. White sheets. Oak laminated flooring. But no windows. It didn’t surprise me, though. It wasn’t like I had a need for a view. There were two closet doors in front of me, and an opening in the wall next to it, leading to the bathroom. There was no bathroom door,
and I could see the corner of a bathtub.
The bottle of water on the bedside table caught my eye. Suddenly, I was hyperaware of how dry my throat was, my tongue feeling like it had been rolling around in fucking sand. But drinking that water would mean I was giving them what they wanted, something I didn’t want to do even if it meant hurting myself. I couldn’t care less about myself, but I did care about not giving them—giving him the satisfaction of obeying. The resentment that swirled in my gut fueled the need to be an insolent prisoner to these bastards.
Ignoring the bottle for now, I looked down, only to realize I was wearing a shirt about twenty sizes too big for me. The last thing I remembered before waking up here was looking into Granite’s eyes as he told me Neon was dead. And I wasn’t wearing this shirt during that conversation. Someone dressed me. Someone touched me. The thought alone was vile and cruel. For some inexplicable reason, a part of me hoped it was him, and no one else. At least it wouldn’t have been the first time he saw me naked. Touched me. Fucking ruined me.
I brushed it off, choosing not to fret over something as futile as who the fuck dressed me.
My legs felt unsteady as I got up, as if my feet weren’t firmly placed on the ground. I grabbed hold of the bedside table, feeling lightheaded. It only took a few seconds for the dizziness to pass.
While I held the table, my finger touched the cold bottle of water, and it provoked my thirst, igniting the instinct to quench it. I cursed as I stomped toward the bathroom, trying to ignore how fucking parched I was.
The bathroom walls were the same gray as the bedroom, the floor covered with white and gray checkered tiles.
I stared at the bathtub. The idea of taking a bath was tempting, wanting to rid my skin of the filthy taint. But I turned and walked back into the room, deciding the bed seemed much more inviting, as I could simply pull the sheets over my head and pretend the world didn’t exist.
Then the bottle of water taunted me again. Just one sip. One tiny sip to get the sand out of my mouth. And Onyx was right; my mouth did taste like ass.
Picking up the bottle, my mouth dried even more when I broke the seal and twisted the cap. My throat scratched, and I couldn’t even swallow a tiny bit of spit. As I brought the bottle to my mouth, a tear slipped down my face. My body was my worst enemy. It didn’t allow me to fight the lust Granite stirred in me, making me succumb so easily. And it didn’t allow me to fight these bastards with the only weapon I had…me. I hated my body. I hated it more now than I ever had before.
One large gulp of water soothed my throat as I swallowed. But it wasn’t enough. It simply teased my body into wanting more. So, I drank more. And more. And more.
This was all his fault. Things could have been different for us if he had only let me go, saving Neon’s life. But he didn’t. He was too selfish for that. With every mouthful I swallowed, my guilt became heavier, as if the water settled like concrete in my stomach. More tears rolled down my cheeks, my mind flipping between images of Granite’s face while he took my body I offered so willingly, to Neon’s face covered in tears and pain. It was too much. The contradiction, the extreme feeling of bliss bouncing to the punishing shame, was just too damn much.
I jerked the bottle away from my lips and threw it across the room while a furious scream ripped from my throat.
How long before the pain would finally consume me whole? How long before the shame would bury me while both their faces haunted me?
God, I hated him. I hated him for being the reason agony was gnawing at my bones. I hated him for playing my body like a violin. But most of all, I hated that the image of his face still stirred something to life inside me.
I hated him giving me hope during those moments of ecstasy.
And I fucking hated him for ruining me.
2
Granite
I was standing down the hall when Onyx left her room, walking in the other direction. Fire simmered in my veins, jealousy about two seconds away from ripping through my chest. He had been visiting her a lot since we got here, claiming he was only trying to get her to eat. But I knew my brother well enough to know it was more than that. Onyx wasn’t the type to concern himself with the wellbeing of others if he didn’t have some sort of interest in them. And judging by the way he had been up my ass about Alyx ever since she got here, my guess was he had a real keen interest in her that stretched far beyond mere human compassion. But even though it pissed me off, there was a part of me—the not so selfish part—that was thankful for someone trying to take care of her. But that didn’t mean I liked it. In fact, I hated it. I hated that he could take care of her, or at least try to. I hated that he could walk into her room without feeling crushing guilt. I hated that he could look into her eyes without hating the blood that ran through his veins. Most of all, I hated that he could be there with her when I couldn’t. She hated me. I hated me. It was better that way.
“You’re creeping.”
I turned to face Dutch leisurely leaning against the wall while lighting a cigarette. “I’m not creeping.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve been stalking this hall ever since we got here. It’s creeping.”
“We only got here two days ago.”
He blew out a cloud of smoke. “Dude, you’re creeping.”
“Whatever.” I turned and headed the other way. Knowing Dutch was following me, I talked while I walked. “Surroundings still secure?”
“Yup. Manic and his squad have been doing runs every hour on the hour. Our absence at the gym hasn’t raised suspicions yet. Not under these circumstances. Word on the street is we’ve gone to do some patch-overs of our own since…you know.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “Our men on the inside still undetected?”
“Granite, man.” Dutch touched my shoulder, and I turned to face him. “Everything is as secure as it can be. Besides, I’m pretty sure the Pythons will be laying low for a while.”
“Don’t be so sure.” I clenched my jaw. “We underestimated the fucker not once, but twice. First with my dad, and then with Neon. That fucking devil won’t outsmart me again.”
“Us.” Dutch pinned his stare on me. “Us, Granite. Not you. Nothing about what happened so far was because of you, or about you. It’s because of us, and it’s about us. The Kings. We all carry the blame in this. Not just you.”
I pulled my hand through my hair, pushing it out of my face. “Whatever, man. I’m the president. I’m responsible for the safety of the members of this club, and that included Neon. Lot of good it did her.”
“Stop.” Dutch squared his shoulders, only a few inches shorter than I was. “Stop beating yourself up about it.”
“Never.” I stepped forward. “I will never stop beating myself up over what happened.” Unable to carry on with this conversation, I turned and walked away.
“What happened to Neon wasn’t your fault, man. And neither was what happened to Kate,” Dutch called after me, and I stilled for a few seconds.
“Well, I sure as fuck didn’t help them either.” With that, I left, my shit-kicker boots pounding the concrete as I stomped down the hall and up the stairs. I was suffocating. It was like the flames of hell were burning on my shoulders, the smoke smothering me.
Luckily, I had become a thick-skinned motherfucker a very long time ago. There had been a whole list of shit I had to brush off in my life, but what happened to Neon wouldn’t be one of them. As the leader, I had no choice but to go on and to continue being the head of this club. There was no other option for me. My duty toward the club had also become my burden, and it was a burden I would carry until the day I took my last breath. But I would never forget, and I would never forgive myself for what happened to Neon. My dad always said we stood together as a unit but carried guilt alone as an individual. And this was the guilt I carried alone.
Our plan—my plan had failed in the sense that it went in a direction I never anticipated. My selfish needs, my motherfucking greed cost us more than money could ever buy. The damage
was done, and right now I wasn’t sure how we’d be able to get back up. But one thing was for sure…I would end the Pythons, and I would cut out Slither’s split tongue and burn it while he fucking watched. I would never stop until I’d carved out his motherfucking heart. After that? Who fucking knew? Maybe this world would have mercy on my soul, and I’d burn right there next to Slither. God knew, I deserved nothing less.
I exited the basement and stepped inside the house. Our safe house was nestled in Coney Island, a place we only used in extreme emergencies. My dad kept this location top secret, and not all members knew about it. The double-story piece of real estate had been placed in a trust which could not be linked back to the Kings. We managed to keep it with a few zeros slapped on a check and placed in the mail each month. My dad was hellbent on having a safe house with a fully equipped medical room in case shit went wrong. It took him two years to revamp the basement, turning it into a hiding spot for the day shit hit the fan. Well, I’d say the shit had pretty much hit the fan right about now.
I stepped outside and onto the back porch where I spotted Onyx cleaning his Harley, and I immediately wanted to lose my shit. “Onyx, you know the rules. Motorcycles locked in the garage at all times.” An entire row of Harleys parked in the back yard was a dead giveaway.
“Relax, would you? It’s almost dark. And besides,” he wiped the side of his face, “one motorcycle won’t alert the fucking cops.”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath. “For once, would you just do as you’re fucking told?”
“Where would the fun be in that?” The smirk on his face begged to be wiped off with my fist. Onyx cleaned his hands with a white piece of cloth, a cigarette hanging from his lips. “You plan on avoiding me the whole time we’re here?”
“Maybe.” No use in denying it.
Onyx swept his hand through his dirty-blond hair. “Avoiding problems won’t solve it.”
“Is that what you are? A problem?”
“I dunno. Am I?”
