by Bella Jewel
“Who the fuck is that, Bohdi?” she bellows.
“Son, you need to get out of there,” my father says onto the phone. “Now.”
I hang it up.
“I had to,” I say, my voice careful. “We have no money.”
“How dare you?”
She loses it. In a fit of rage, she starts smashing everything in her way as she charges toward me. I use the sofa as a shield from her, but she’s so angry, losing it so bad, I’m terrified.
“Mom, I had no choice. He has money and we need money. He said he’s been giving you money and ...”
“He’s a liar!” she screeches, grabbing fistfuls of her hair and tugging at it. “He’s a liar and so are you. You fucking waste of space, useless son. How could you do that to me? Go to him when you know what he has done to me?”
Her words are like a knife to my heart.
“I had no choice,” I yell back, anger building in my chest, an anger I can’t contain.
“You fucking awful child.”
She lunges at me, grabbing my hair with her hand in a fistful. My scalp burns as she tugs at it, jerking over and over, as if trying to get it to free from my scalp. I bellow in pain, grabbing her arms and trying to get her off me, but she’s high as a kite and strong, so fucking strong. She’s clawing and scratching, calling me every name under the son.
I’m terrified.
“Mom,” I bellow. “Let me go.”
“I hate you,” she screeches. “You little fucking asshole. I fucking hate you. I wish you were never born. You’re just like him. I wish you were dead.”
Her fingernails literally sink into my skin, causing me to roar with pain as blood trickles from my arm. She’s biting at me, one hand still in my hair, tugging so hard it burns. I need to get her off. The rage inside me unleashes, and I shove her—I shove her so hard to get her to release me that she flies backward.
“Let me go,” I roar as I watch her body part from mine and she soars across the air like a ragdoll.
As if in slow motion, I watch her fly toward the table. I know, even before it happens, that she’s going to hit it. Her head slams down onto the corner, a loud crunch echoing through the room, a sound I’ll never forget. Then, she hits the ground, lifeless.
I know.
I know even before I walk over and kneel beside her.
I just killed my mother.
The wound on her temple is deep and gushes with blood. Her eyes are open, her mouth stuck mid scream. I turn and vomit all over the ground as the kind of pain and anguish I’ve never felt before in my life, takes over my body. I can’t breathe, I can’t move. I just vomit until there is nothing left.
I just killed my own mother.
I killed her.
She’s dead.
My life is over.
What have I done?
Oh, god, what have I done?
What have I fucking done?
HER BODY IS HEAVY AS I drag it through the night toward the small boat Carson owns.
I am a monster of the purest form, but the truth is that if I go to the police, I’m going to prison for the rest of my life. Isla will be left alone, the baby she carries will be left alone, and I’ll be forever the same type of scum she was. The only way for me to get on with my life, is to get rid of her.
The worst part is, nobody will even notice.
Nobody cares about her.
I could simply say she disappeared with a junkie friend of hers and people wouldn’t think twice.
It’s time for me to do what’s right.
Well, it’s very fucking wrong but I have no other choice. For me, this is the only way out. The only way I can keep my life going untouched. Freedom feels close, but the weight of my mother feels so fucking heavy. Dragging her lifeless form is without a doubt the hardest part of what I’m doing right now. Knowing that it’s because of me that she’s dead ... That’s a hard pill to swallow.
I sat beside her dead body for hours, hours, and hours. Isla came, she knocked, she called out, and she left. My father called again, over and over. Those calls went untouched. I just sat there, staring at her body, wondering what the hell I was going to do next. I didn’t cry, hell, I haven’t. Not once. Her words to me before she died ring over and over in my head. The way she was clawing and scratching at me.
I think I’m meant to feel something, but I don’t.
Not a single fucking thing.
I reach Carson’s boat, and I find the spare key he always keeps hidden. He tells us we can use this boat whenever we need. It’s not huge, it’s just a little run around, but it’ll get me far enough out on calm waters to dump her into the ocean where she’ll never surface again. At least, I hope she never will. I’ve learned a few tricks in my time, a few things to make sure she doesn’t.
It’s all about the distance, the location, and making sure she’s weighted down.
If I don’t take her far enough out, she’ll wash back in.
If I take her to an easy diving area, people will find her if they dive.
I have to make sure wherever I take her there is little to no traffic or chance of anyone finding her.
I know the ocean well. I grew up on it, in it, and I love everything to do with it. Because of that, I’ve got a good chance of picking the right location.
Getting her onto the boat isn’t easy, and I stop twice to vomit over the side. It’s pitch black, and I’m lucky to live on the beach where I could just drag her down and throw her on. Carson’s boat is always pulled up near my house, and we used it to go out to different areas all the time. I’ve never pushed it as far as I’m about to push it, but it’s a quiet night. I’m hoping it’ll glide through the water with ease.
Once my mother is on, I check to make sure nothing has dropped off and then I climb onto the boat and start it up. It rumbles in the dead of the night, echoing through the silence. I get it out, and then I take off, roaring away into the night like the fucking murderer I am.
I didn’t mean to kill her.
I didn’t think I pushed her so hard. Lost it so bad.
But I did and now she’s gone.
All because of me.
I travel for hours, until I’m certain I’m in a location that is far enough, deep enough, and secluded enough that nobody will find her, or, at the very least, the chances will be slim. I take the two concrete blocks I loaded into the boat and secure them to her body. In a daze, I lift her up onto the side, placing the concrete blocks beside her on the boat. Then I stare at her, wrapped in plastic.
“I’m sorry, Momma,” I say, my voice harsh and low. “I didn’t mean to. You left me no choice.”
Then I push her off the side.
She disappears with a splash and the concrete blocks drag her beneath the calm surface. I wait for a few minutes, just staring into nothing, the light from the boat glowing across the water. When she doesn’t resurface, I turn the boat around and disappear home. In the morning, I’ll go back to the spot to make sure she isn’t anywhere to be seen, and I’ll make sure the beach is clean, tidy and not a trace of me dragging her will ever be seen.
When I arrive back at home, I spend the rest of my night scrubbing. I scrub her blood from the floor, I pick up broken pieces of furniture that she threw at me, I wash her sheets and clean her room. By the time morning rolls around, there is no evidence that my mother ever lived in this house. I have a few bags of her things that I’ll get rid of, and then that’ll be it. It’ll just be me. Me and nobody else.
She’s gone.
I sit down onto the couch, staring at the shack that’s cleaner than it has ever been. This is mine now. My home. Isla’s home. Nobody can take a single thing from me again.
The lump that has been building in my throat finally releases, and tears flow down my cheeks. I don’t know if I’m crying out of guilt, pain, or relief. Maybe it’s a little of everything. I killed someone. I disposed of them. I cleaned away the evidence. I’m a monster. The worst part is, I don’t feel bad about being a monster. I
only feel bad that it ended how it did.
She didn’t deserve it.
But neither did I.
Who is the winner in that situation?
A knock at the door has me turning my head to see Isla standing at the screen, concern in her eyes. “I thought you might have done a runner. I’ve been calling you and texting you; I even came by last night but you weren’t here. I was getting worried.”
I exhale, thanking god she came over once I finished cleaning and had showered. An hour earlier, I would have had a lot of explaining to do.
“My mother disappeared,” I say, my voice flat. “Came home yesterday and all her things were gone. I was busy looking for her.”
“She’s gone?” Isla asks, glancing around. “Why would she leave?”
“She’s a junkie. She probably ran off with one of her junkie friends. She had been threatening it, I just didn’t take her seriously.”
“I’m so sorry, Bohdi. What are you going to do now?”
“This is my home, I pay for it, I’m staying in it. She isn’t welcome back here. I spent my night cleaning it, because you’re moving in with me.”
Isla’s eyes widen. “What?”
I stand and walk over, stopping in front of her. “I’m not letting you do this alone. I’m not like my father, or my mother. That baby is mine, and I’m going to take care of it, and you. You’ll move in here, we’ll get married and I’ll take care of my family the way I’m supposed to.”
“You want to marry me?” she asks, her eyes wide.
“I want to do what’s right by you and the baby. So, yeah, I want to marry you.”
She lunges forward, throwing her arms around my neck.
I close my eyes and pray for fucking sanity.
I pray I’m doing the right thing.
9
NOW – MERLEIGH
“How are you feeling?” Waverly asks me as we make the long drive to where Bryant used to live and where we’re hoping to find Cova.
“I’m anxious,” I say, and that’s the honest truth. I am anxious. I’m terrified, actually.
“Of course you are, honey. We’re here, just remember that. No matter what, we’ve got your back.”
I give her a smile. “I know.”
“Nobody is touchin’ you again,” Mykel says from the driver’s seat. .
“Is Bohdi coming?” I ask, wondering if he’s amongst the people following us in trucks.
Waverly glances at Mykel, who says nothing.
Right, what are they hiding?
“What aren’t you two telling me?”
“He’s got Isla and the two boys with him.”
Oh.
We’re staying in the town Bryant lives in overnight, being that it’s such a big drive and we need time. There is a possibility we’re staying two nights. That means Isla is staying with Bohdi. They’re coming together. Staying together. He said they’re not getting back together, but it is his wife and one of those boys belongs to him—maybe he’s going to try and mend fences for them.
He’s missed so much, after all.
I understand it, yet the idea of them two bonding, of him spending time with her, sharing a room.
That hurts.
“I’m sorry, we didn’t want to have to tell you yet,” Waverly exhales. “I know you’re hurting.”
“It’s fine,” I say, my voice flat. “We’re friends. We have made that clear.”
Waverly gives me a sympathetic look but says no more. Neither does Mykel. We just drive the rest of the way in silence. When we arrive in town, memories begin flooding back immediately. I gaze out the window, recalling the few times Bryant would bring us into town, and threaten us that if we so much as spoke a word to another person it would be the end of us.
I don’t think he understood that at that point in our lives, we weren’t going anywhere.
He was giving us better than we could get on our own.
It was hell to most people but, for us, it was a step up.
As we near the house where they rescued Cova and me, my anxiety kicks up a notch. I don’t know what we’re going to find there. Hell, I know they killed Bryant, but that doesn’t mean someone else in his little posse didn’t take over and is doing the same thing. Maybe Cova came back here and is living with them again. Or maybe, she didn’t come here at all.
I guess we’re about to find out.
“You don’t have to come in,” Mykel says when we pull up at the large house.
“I’m okay,” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt, pushing the door open and getting out.
The warm air hits my face and I use my hand to shield my eyes from the sun as all the other trucks pull in and come to a stop. The house is tidy, well-manicured, and seemingly lived in, which means I’m right in assuming someone has taken over it. Are they continuing the same thing Bryant was doing, or is it someone completely unaware of the hell this house held for so many years?
I see Bohdi get out of his truck with his wife and children. It hurts—god, no matter how prepared I think I am, it still hurts. The kids, they’re gorgeous and clearly happy he’s around. The younger boy, and the son that is his, takes his hand and clutches it. Bohdi gives him a warm look, and that expression makes everything inside me turn to liquid.
Isla stays by Bohdi’s side, not moving her expression away from me. The look she’s giving me tells me she is more than aware of the relationship between Bohdi and myself. She doesn’t want me anywhere near him, her expression is making that very clear.
When I look to him again, he’s watching me, that intense gaze traveling over my face, eyes scanning every part of it.
He’s trying to see how I’m feeling.
I look away and face Alarick and Briella as they walk over toward me.
“Are you okay?” Briella asks, smiling at me.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Let’s go and see who’s livin’ here and if we can find out where Cova is,” Alarick orders. “You ladies wait here until we check it out.”
Bohdi, Kendric, Mykel, and Alarick all walk toward the house, their jackets on display, their power unmistakable.
It’s odd to not see Samson with them, but he’s spending time with Lilian, and after everything that went down, I’m not even certain he’s part of the club anymore. I see him around the clubhouse, but as for these kinds of things, he hasn’t been part of it.
That breaks my heart.
He was only doing what he had to do to protect his daughter.
Though I do understand that they did what they needed to do, to protect the club and the laws that come with it.
“Do you think anyone lives here?” Waverly asks, leaning against the truck. “It kind of looks like they do.”
“I’m guessing so.” Briella nods. “It’s too clean. Did anyone else live here when you were here, Merleigh?”
I shake my head. “No, just Cova and I. Bryant had people around all the time, people he worked with who ran his companies for him. So, maybe one of them took over. I’m sure he had a will ...”
“Who is this man anyway?” Isla asks, joining the conversation.
“He purchased girls illegally and kept them as slaves,” Zariah answers. “It took us a long time to bring them down.”
“He bought you then?” Isla asks me, her eyes narrowing. “Is that why Bohdi feels so sorry for you?”
I’m not in the mood to argue with her, or get into some sort of fight here in the driveway. So, I ignore the question.
“You can answer me,” Isla mutters. “Or are you ignorant, too?”
I take a deep breath and look to her. “I’m not answering personal questions, I don’t even know you. Now is not the time.”
“When is it time? I have the right to know about the woman my husband is clearly in love with.”
Bohdi is in love with me?
I think she’s got it wrong.
“We’re friends,” I say calmly. “Nothing ever happened between us, we just get along very well.�
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That’s the truth, nothing ever did happen between us. Are there feelings there, at least for me? Yes. But we are friends. I’m not a liar, and I’m not fake. I will tell her the truth and that’s exactly what I’m doing.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truth,” Briella answers, her voice crisp and straight to the point. “It’s not up to you to come in here and cause problems, Isla. Merleigh is dear to us and we’re not going to have you speak down to her.”
Isla glares at Briella and then mutters, “Of course you’re all going to have her back. Nobody ever has mine.”
“We don’t know you,” Waverly points out. “We literally just met you. We didn’t know he had a wife.”
“And whose fault is that?” Isla snaps.
“It’s his.” Waverly nods. “We get that, but you’re not making a great first impression. If you want to be part of his life again, we all come with it. I think you probably need to get on board with that.”
She goes to say something else, but her son, the oldest one, tugs at her hand. “Mom, I’m hungry.”
The boys are both under ten, but I’m not exactly sure of their ages. Taj, Bohdi’s son, is maybe six? And Sunny is probably closer to eight or nine. I’ll have to ask the question, find out for sure, but even at such a young age, Bohdi has missed so much. Taj looks just like him, there is no doubt in the world that the little boy belongs to him.
They’re surfer boys through and through. Golden hair, tanned skin and gorgeous eyes. Beads around their necks and often getting around without a shirt. Sunny is far more outgoing than his little brother. Taj is quiet, just like Bohdi. He observes people and watches as they go about their day, as if he’s taking them in, learning things about them they probably don’t even know.
“There’s some snacks in the truck,” Isla tells Sunny.
He turns and rushes toward the truck—Taj presses closer to his mother’s side, his eyes on me. I smile at him and expect he won’t return it, but he does. When he does, he looks even more like his daddy, and that just makes my heart ache that much more. I can’t have kids. A secret I have kept close to my heart and soul, a secret nobody knows.
