Innocent Eyes

by Charlotte E Hart

  “My turn first this time, big brother,” he whispers. “I’ll show you I’m worth this fucking name. Fuck her right.” Something inside me snaps. Worth this name? He’s not worth a fucking thing anymore, certainly not Emily.

  I run at him before he has another chance to breathe, one hand reaching for the blade as I slam him towards the fireplace. The air shunts out of him, back colliding with the wood as I turn into him and hold the blade away from us. He grapples over my back, fist punching into my ribs, enough to make me wheeze and roll forward. We both fall, legs kicking as I try to get the damn thing from his hand. He slices it again, strengthening muscles and forcing me onto my back until he’s above me.

  “Put it down, Josh,” I growl out, rage beginning to tip me over the edge of reason. He leers above me, chuckling as he shoves and grunts. “The fuck are you doing?”

  “Canes take what they want,” he mumbles, both hands managing to wrap round my one grip and power the blade down at my face.

  My fingers latch onto the side of his head, ripping at his hair and heaving him with as much strength as I’ve got to get him onto his side. He crashes sideways, neither of us letting go of the knife, but then manages to knee me in the stomach and propel us the other way. It’s a blur. Rage swells somewhere deep in the pit of my guts, reminding me of the man I used to be when killing was my life, no longer caring for brotherly loyalty. It forces momentum to rip through me, thumb sinking into his eye and relishing the yell that comes at the pain. My fist punches repeatedly, shoulder forging my hand into any part of him that I can get to, but he’s filled with power I’ve not seen before.

  “You’re getting old, brother,” he spits, his body rolling over mine and shoving me downwards. I blanch left, avoiding his fist. “All your fault.” I push the blade away from me, trying to get him the fuck off me. “Always the favourite.” I twist, still clinging to the blade, and manage to get my other hand to it only to have his head crash against mine. The room spins, my fingers losing their grip of the blade as I feel the back of my skull knock against the floor. I grunt as pain ricochets through me, making me struggle to focus on his face as he bears down on me again. “You never let me in.” I blink and focus, lifting my hands to his face to get some grip, but I feel him knock them away and laugh at me. “Didn’t think I was good enough, did you?” No, and he still isn’t. “Should’ve done this years ago,” he snarls. My hands raise again, hips trying to roll away from him, but he pins me with the blade at my throat before I get the chance. I widen my eyes, and shake my head, not knowing where the hell any of this has come from.

  “The hell off me,” I mutter as I reach around the floor for something to hit him with. He pushes the metal against me, inching it close enough that I feel the prick of it on my skin. Clarity comes racing back, his face becoming the centre of my fucking world again. I go lax in his hands, making him think he’s got some ground on me.

  “Who’s in control now, huh?”

  My eyes squint, fury beginning to find its base again at his words, and bring both my fists slamming into the side of his head. He falters above me, giving me enough room to shove the fucker off me and reel sideways from beneath him. I kick out instantly, my heel connecting with his ribs as he tries to stand. It gives me space to loom over him and kick twice more, ready to demolish what’s left of the dick. I’m in fucking control.

  He wheezes and curls into a ball, a choked sound coming from his fucking mouth. I glare at the noise, fury just holding me off killing him where he lies. Devious little cunt. How dare he try this fucking shit with me? All the years. All the times I’ve put up with his tantrums. All the protection I’ve offered, and this is what he gives me for thanks? Dick.

  I scowl and back off a step, happy to let him dwell in his pain and remember who the hell is in control of this family. It’s not him.

  “Quinn?” Emily’s small voice says.

  I look across at her, watching as she stares at me and shakes. The fuck is all this? She shouldn’t be here. She should be outside these walls, knowing a life away from the crap that Canes live in. I smile at her, trying to keep her focused on me and nothing else. She doesn’t deserve any of me or my life in hers, let alone cunts like Josh trying to defile her good nature.

  “You’re okay,” I say, grabbing at a blanket on the back of the sofa and starting towards her, snarling at Josh’s balled frame as I go past him. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  She doesn’t smile back as I reach for her, she huddles further away from me, fear creeping through the blank expression.

  “Sssh,” I say, my arms slowing their movement just like they do with my mother. “I’ve got you. You’re alright, Em.” Her head shakes rapidly, fingers latching onto her top as she starts sobbing and tries to climb the wall behind her. I rise with her, staying in her vision to keep her away from the fucking mayhem around us. Her top falls open, showing the sliced material and small cuts to her skin, and I barely contain the need to turn and use the fucking blade on the dick who did it to her.

  “It’s not real, Quinn,” she mumbles. “He was... And I was trying …” She looks at the wall, then floor, then back at me. “And you’re like him. You are.” She flails her body around, feet kicking her further into the corner. She starts crying to herself, doing everything she can to escape from me. Escape to freedom.

  “Sssh, Em. It’s alright now. I’ve got you. He won’t touch you again.”

  Her eyes suddenly go wide, and she launches her lithe limbs sideways away from me. I follow, trying to grab her and calm her down before she hurts herself, but the weight of Josh crashes down on me from behind. My knees buckle, the force of him propelling me forward with no room to get away from his madness.

  I turn, my arms wrapping around him in an attempt to force him off me, but he’s all over me, and I feel the stab into my thigh before I’ve got a chance to move. My head digs into his shoulder, feet kicking me off the wall to get him the hell away from me before he does something idiotic, or I do, but the brawl carries on as I tackle him backwards. It’s all brute strength and weight, two Canes battling to win a fucking war I didn’t know was happening in front of my own eyes, and it’ll carry on ‘til one of us owns the end of it. Knife in my skin or not.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The gun vibrates in my hand as I struggle to keep it held up, the ringing still loud in my ears after the crack of it firing. I fired a gun. My right-hand aches from clenching the handle so tightly, and sweat loosens my grip, but I can’t drop it.

  Not yet.

  Quinn and Josh stand motionless, and I don’t know who I hit. I knew in my head I needed to protect Quinn. Josh was so mad, so angry that I didn’t know what he’d do. I couldn’t watch as he stabbed Quinn. My mind cleared and all I could see was Josh attacking Quinn like a madman.

  The gun was at my feet, so I picked it up. My thumb pushed the safety back, and I held it out in front of me, just like Quinn showed me, my shaky arms offering little stability. They were apart when I shot. I winced and held my breath as my finger squeezed against the trigger. It stunned me. The jolt shook my whole body. And then everything froze.

  I fired a gun.

  My arms grow tired as I fall back down against the wall that was propping me up. Quinn slumps down on top of Josh but then kneels back up. His brother doesn’t move, and even in the gloom, I can see a shadow spreading across his chest.

  I push it all away. I close my eyes and focus on the song. My song that has kept me from the edge for so long, but now I’m afraid that won’t save me from my own mind.

  I fired a gun and shot someone. I shot someone who’s loved.

  Tears stream down my face. They gather around the dried blood on my cheek. It stings, and I want to scrub them away. Everything hurts, everything aches. My fingers, my hands, my arms. They begin to fail, and my arm slumps, removing the gun aimed at Quinn.

  He’s pounding on Josh’s chest, his grunts and murmurs barely registering. I see the fight replay in front of my e
yes as I watch on, as if I’m a bystander to my own crime. Their bodies tangling together, tossing and wrestling. Quinn is winning. He was trying to protect me, help me, until Josh sunk the blade into him. I couldn’t leave Quinn open and exposed. It was my fault he was here.

  The recording in my mind plays on and I see me pick up the gun and pull the trigger.

  An eruption of anger explodes from Quinn as he yells into the room. It shakes me from my introspection, and my eyes dart around, suddenly alert.

  Blood. I see blood. Lots of blood. It saturates Quinn’s hands as he presses them against Josh’s chest. His face contorts his usual handsome features as he takes in what has happened.

  My hands release the gun as if it’s a hot poker, the thud heavy on the floor. What have I done? What do I do?

  Panic rears up from inside again, and my breathing comes in short, sharp bursts. I killed someone. I shot someone, and he’s lying in a pool of blood. I shot Quinn’s brother.

  The thoughts race through my mind faster than I can process and it makes me dizzy. My head grows cloudy with visions the more I try to focus on anything. Everything blurs, a ringing in the back of my mind distracting me from concentrating on anything in front of me. My body shakes as I sit watching Quinn. He won’t give up on Josh, but the pain I’ve inflicted is written across his face and in every move his body makes.

  The blood continues to spill across the floor, the rug in front of the fire seeping it up.

  “Quinn… I’m… sorry.” I force the words out, each one lodged in my throat at first, but I don’t think he’s heard me, so I try again. “Quinn, I’m… sorry.”

  “I can’t…”

  “I couldn’t… I didn’t know what to do. He was going to kill you. He stabbed you.” The words rush out, the need to explain overtaking me.

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  His bellow fills the room and turns me ice cold. If I thought Josh was mad before, it was only because I’d not seen Quinn in a rage like this. My lips quiver and I scrunch my eyes closed, shielding me from anything further. I filter through my mind to find the music sheets and start to sing. My hands come up and cover my ears, blocking out anything that will remind me of reality.

  The song sounds flat, but it keeps me grounded. I concentrate on the notes, but images invade. Images of Quinn smiling, Quinn out in the sunlight, Quinn asleep on the bed we shared. The picture of him with his brothers. I’ve ruined everything. The nightmare isn’t over; it won’t ever be over. It’s my life now, and I won’t ever be able to outrun it or escape it.

  “Stand up, Emily.” The voice sounds far away, but that doesn’t make any sense. “Stand up.” I still don’t process what’s being said.

  Rough hands grab at my shoulders, and I’m hauled to my feet.

  “Look. Look at what you’ve done.” My face is forced next to the stony eyes of Josh. They’re blank. Completely expressionless, as if made of glass. But I can still see the crazy in them when he took the knife to my skin. I close my eyes and try to break away from Quinn.

  “No, leave me… I don’t want to.”

  “You’ll do as you’re told. You think you can kill my brother and get away with it?”

  I turn around and Quinn is standing over his brother, the gun I used to kill him in his hand, aiming right for my chest. I don’t move. I don’t flinch. Maybe this would be the most natural solution? It would take all the pain away. I won’t be trapped by my feelings any longer. I won’t have to miss Quinn, or battle with the shame I feel whenever I think of him and what he’s done to me.

  My lungs fill with air and I wait, holding my breath until my they scream for oxygen or I don’t need to breathe any longer. Quinn’s face is lined with aggression. All the evil and deceitful things he’s done in his life now let loose and they’re flowing around his body as fuel. He doesn’t need two hands to hold the gun. He grasps it with the surety of someone who has killed without thought or remorse.

  But as I accept my fate, I watch as Quinn’s eyes soften. His jaw tenses, but he looks away, down to Josh before flicking back to me. He steps forward, bringing the barrel of the gun closer to my chest. He continues his advance until the gun is pressed over my heart.

  “Why? Why you? Of everyone who could have killed my brother, why did it have to be you?”

  I shake my head as tears start anew. I can’t look at Quinn. It hurts too much. I turn my head and stare at the far wall. My heartbeat thuds in my chest, trying to push the muzzle of the gun away. The beats offer me something to concentrate on, the rhythm calming my thoughts. Lightness takes over and I grow distant as my mind relaxes.

  “He did this to you.”

  A feather-like touch sweeps over my cheek and runs down my neck to my chest. The scraps of material that were my clothing still hang to the sides. I don’t answer. It’s clear that these aren’t self-inflicted. “He did this and I wasn’t here to stop him.”

  I try to cover myself, but Quinn stops me. He runs the pad of his thumb over the marks. His touch hurtles me back into the present and makes me remember the sensation of the knife in my flesh. It’s what Josh did; he’s doing what Josh did. But instead of fascination, I read confusion in Quinn’s eyes. His eyes shimmer, the low light catching the moisture gathering in them. It breaks a part of my heart, shattering me into tiny pieces that I can’t fathom ever being able to piece together again.

  “Arghhh!” His thunderous roar fills the room, punctuated by rapid cracks of gunfire. The bangs make me jump in quick succession, waiting for pain to flare through me, for my body to give out, but it doesn’t.

  I turn back to look at Quinn and see he’s emptied the chamber into the chair to the right of him. It fires my adrenaline and the urge to run scorches my limbs. I shouldn’t be here. I want to escape. I need to escape. My hands cradle my head as I hide away, too terrified to look at the scene in front of me.

  An acrid smell permeates the room as smoke floats through the air and forces me to stay in the present. My eyes land on the door and what that signals, but I can’t look past Quinn. He heaves air into his lungs, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. I gasp, unable to breathe for relief. He didn’t kill me. But as I think the words, I understand that I thought he might. The man I’ve fallen for, the man I’ve missed and wished for could have killed me. He stood over me with a gun once before. But that was play. His games. This is real. It’s happening. How do I understand that? How can I?

  “Quinn?” My whisper is so faint, but he turns to me. Confusion still mars his face.

  He looks around the room and begins to pace around the body, his hands messing with his hair before he pauses and starts his pacing again. With each circuit he gets louder, his feet hitting the floor harder. The tension pulls all the oxygen from the room and I feel the pressure of his anger pushing me back into the corner.

  He’ll never let me leave now. He has the gun; he has the power. He always held the power. I couldn’t ever say no to him. As soon as he touched me I was a puppet. He’s taken the old Emily and shaped her into someone who can pick up a gun and kill someone.

  He’s a threat, front and centre, and instead of offering me help or support, all I see is another nightmare, one that I’ll never be able to wake up from. Thoughts turn in my mind until all I can see is fear. A life of fear. Surely, I’ll always need to watch for Quinn and what his revenge may be? I’ll never be free. How can I be? People pay with their life for murder. Will I pay Quinn with mine?

  Tears soak my skin, falling and splashing onto my chest. My body trembles and shakes as I stumble along the side of the wall. My only way out is through Quinn, but I’m ready to collapse. I can feel the shake in my legs. My body needs to check out for a moment because I’m not sure that the grip on my sanity hasn’t been lost.

  He lunges to me, pulling me against his chest as I slowly give in to my body and let my subconscious pull me under. As I do, though, I don’t miss the tenderness in Quinn’s hold as he pulls me into his chest and down onto the floo
r.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I travel the roads in the dead of night, unsure what the fuck I’m going to do with her as she shivers and shudders beside me. The fact that I’ve managed to get the buckle across her lap without her shredding my face is at least one problem solved. Every time I try to touch her she yelps, going into some crazy panic mode. The rest of the time she’s zoned out, barely alive. It’s two parts of her I don’t like. Parts that remind me of myself all too often, my family’s legacy, too.

  The phone keeps ringing in the car, fucking annoying me that Shifty’s not picked up quicker. Eventually, he does.

  “Boss?”

  “Go to the old place. Clean up the mess that’s there.”

  “What, boss?”

  “My brother, Shifty. He needs disposing of.” There’s an intake of breath that could eclipse the damn sun. I don’t give a fuck for it. I’m still too wound up to care a shit for anything Shifty might think, and too confused about my own reactions to make any sense to anyone. All I care about is getting Emily away from the place before she falls into a madness I can’t stop.

  “Yes, boss. But how?”

  “Burn him for all I care.”

  “Boss?”

  The concern in his voice is evident. It’s the same sense of concern I have, but mine’s tainted with the fact that he did what he did to her, then attacked me. I sigh and look across at Emily, her fingers picking at her top, trying to wipe the blood splatters from it. It reminds me of my mother and her constant fidgeting, which makes me think of how the hell I’m going to explain any of this to the rest of my family. Mother included.

  “Just get it cleaned up, Shifty. He’s no different than any other problem that needs attention.”