Sever

by J. M. Miller

  I’d been interested in plenty of hot guys before, so I had no idea what made him different, more appealing. Maybe it was whatever I’d seen in his eyes. Deep down, I knew it was a game changer.

  After three blocks of replaying the whole interaction, I realized I hadn’t even gotten his name.

  Pain screamed inside my head. Throbbing. Aching. Ripping my skull apart.

  I opened my eyes to a close-up view of a wooden floor. Where am I? It wasn’t the first time I’d asked that question, but my usual party hangovers had never hurt like this. It felt like I’d been hit by …

  Damian’s house. I was in Damian’s house.

  I tried to peel my cheek off the floor, but my head was too heavy. When I shifted my body, my arms felt like concrete. I realized they were tied together behind my back at my wrists and elbows.

  “Ow,” I muttered, straining to separate them. Gathering some energy, I pulled my legs toward my chest. They were also bound, close to the ankles. My boots were off and my hoodie was gone. I was bound on the floor, in a ribbed tank top, jeans, and socks.

  I adjusted my arms and wiggled my fingers to feel my back pockets. No knife. No pick set. No phone. I grumbled against the floor. Someone had hit me. Whoever it was had done it to Damian too.

  The house was still dark and quiet. With my limited view of the wall and window, I had no idea if Damian was still in the dining room. Gritting my teeth, I tucked my shoulder and twisted my body, rolling onto my back and squishing my arms and hands beneath me. My head fell to the side to look for him, but I only saw a bare white wall. Damian was gone.

  After listening to silence for another minute, I twisted onto my side. There had to be a way out. I moved my fingers, flicking the edges of the cotton material at my wrists. With the position of my hands, getting a good grip of the material was impossible. I arched my back and pulled my feet toward my hands. The material at my ankles was thicker, with several layers that wrapped in all directions. I bent back farther and wiggled my fingers through the gap between my legs. Hooking an edge gave me hope. There was a chance to find the knot.

  A door clicked open and closed in the other room.

  “You better answer me now, God dammit,” Damian said. “Seth!” His voice grew louder, harsher. “Tell me what the fuck you’re doing.”

  Seth?

  A low chuckle followed. “I think you know,” Seth replied.

  “I haven’t seen you in a year. What jacked up reason could you possibly have for doing this?”

  Still lying on my side, I pushed my feet against the floor. My socks slipped on the hardwood, but I was able to slide my body so I could see the other room. The pub table and the kitchen island finally came into view. After a few more sock slips, I could see half of Damian’s bare back leaning against the edge of the couch. His arms were bound behind him just like mine.

  “Don’t be an ass, Damian.” Seth’s body moved in a quick blur toward the kitchen. I heard the refrigerator open and a bottle hiss. Its top plinked a few times as it bounced on the counter.

  “You’re telling me not to be an ass?” Damian scoffed.

  “Why’d you move back here?” Seth ignored his brother. His voice was low and rough. Both Damian’s and Seth’s voices had deepened since I’d heard them last, but Seth’s sounded gravely, like he’d spent the last five years screaming.

  “I landed a good advance on some production work and this place opened up. If you’re pissed that I’m back, this is a fucked up way to show it.”

  “It’s not just that you’re back, asshole.” Seth stepped back into view. He set his beer on the table and stared down at Damian beside the couch. Despite my vantage point, I could tell Seth wasn’t as tall as Damian, and even though his body looked larger, fuller, he wasn’t as fit as he once was.

  “I know you met with Dad and Mom before they moved last week. I find it funny that you moved back here right before they left.”

  “What’s your point?” Damian’s head turned, looking at Seth, revealing a view of his angry profile: brow narrowed low over his eye, lips tense.

  “Really? You’re gonna keep dodging the truth even though I already knocked you out once?”

  “What the fuck do you want me to say?”

  “Maybe that they gave you the shop? I’ve seen you visit the marina, so don’t play dumb.” Seth tipped back the beer in his hand and chugged half the bottle.

  “That’s what this is about? Are you serious? You have me tied up in my own house because you’re pissed about the boat shop? Have you been hitting something harder than coke since you bailed on rehab?”

  Seth’s laugh reverberated around the house. “Of course I’m pissed.” He slammed the beer bottle onto the table and stepped closer to Damian. “I worked for them for how many years and they just hand the place over to you when they move? No!”

  “Oh, what? You’re throwing a fit because it isn’t fair? Life hasn’t handed you everything you want? You need to quit using that cop-out and grow the fuck up. They didn’t give you the shop because you keep screwing them over. They fired you last year for stealing. Do you remember that little portion of your life? You know, when you came to work drunk or high all the time, wrecked at least one of their client’s boat—which Dad ended up eating the entire cost of in repairs—and then straight up stole cash from them. After everything they did for you?” Damian’s head shifted back toward the wall of windows. “And they still paid for you to go to rehab. Twice! You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

  “Yes, I do. I busted my ass for them. Where were you? Chasing your dreams,” Seth sang as he waved his hands into the air. “I was stuck here doing their grunt work while they praised you, and now I don’t get back what I put in? Bullshit. I’m taking it back.”

  “You made the choice to stay here after you dropped out of college. You begged Dad for a job even though you were never interested in the place. Life just got too hard, and you were too scared to leave something easy. That’s on you. No one else.”

  “Scared to leave? That’s sounds a little more like you.” Seth laughed. “I was surprised you found the balls to move away to begin with. You were scared you’d never see that bitch again.” He pointed a finger toward me and I closed my eyes, hoping he couldn’t see that I was awake inside the dark dining room.

  When I felt it was safe, I cracked open my eyes, slowly pulled my legs up behind me, and hooked the fabric at my ankles with my fingers again.

  It had been years since I’d seen either of them. Seth had always been the opposite of Damian, and his demeanor was never decent. I knew firsthand how violent his intentions could be. This family reunion obviously wasn’t going to end with hugs and well wishes, so I had to keep trying to get out.

  Seth laughed. “You were such a weak little bitch. You still are. Look at you.”

  “You’re the weak one. We both know how different this would be if you had faced me like a man instead of hiding like a coward.”

  “I doubt it.” Seth’s voice was calm. He had backed up to the table again, one hand propped on top while the other tilted the beer to his lips. After draining it, he slammed the bottle down and moved into the kitchen, out of view.

  “Walk away from this.” Damian’s voice had calmed too. “Just walk away now and nothing will happen.”

  “You’re wasting your breath and my time.” Cabinet doors slammed and bottles clanked together in the kitchen like Seth was searching for something.

  “I’m serious. Leave now. I won’t call the cops. We can settle this later, after you’ve slept it off.”

  “The only way we’ll start to settle this is if you fess the fuck up and tell me what I want to know.”

  “And what exactly is that?” Damian kept his voice even as he glanced over toward the kitchen. I looked at his back and noticed his fingers moving along the ties at his wrists, taking advantage of Seth’s distraction.

  “Did you take over the shop?”

  “In a sense.”

  “Did you sign
paperwork, fuckface?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Don’t fucking lie!” Seth roared from the kitchen as a bottle of liquor flew into the living room. It crashed against one of the large windows, bounced off, and shattered when it hit the floor, scattering alcohol and glass everywhere.

  “It’s not final,” Damian admitted in a gritty tone.

  “So what are the terms?” The refrigerator’s ice dispenser kicked on, grinding and crunching as it rotated the cubes inside. A few clinked into a glass and the grinding stopped.

  “Does it really matter?”

  More bottles clanked around and the cabinet door slammed again. “Yeah, it matters. I’m asking.” After a few seconds, he stepped into view again. His fingertips gripped the rim of a glass filled with brown liquor, holding it loosely at his side.

  Pain radiated through my skull and my back seized up, cramping from holding my folded position. I released my ankles and returned my focus to the material at my wrists. I wiggled them inside the tight binding, hoping to find the knot or create some slack.

  “They want me to keep it operational. I promised I wouldn’t sell,” Damian answered.

  “So you ditched New York to take over here.”

  Damian didn’t respond. His bare shoulders and back rose and fell with soft breaths as he looked toward the outdoor deck. I could see part of his reflection in the glass, his features dark and sullen.

  Seth tipped his shaved head back and smirked. “Baby boy Damian runs back home to the rescue, abandoning his life to help his parents. Christ.” He lifted the glass to his lips and drained the contents in one large swallow. The ice rattled around in the empty glass as he raised it in the air and shook it derisively. “Congrats to you. You’ve outdone yourself again.”

  “And once again you’ve proven you’re still a child. I can’t imagine why they don’t trust you.” Damian shook his head, rustling strands of hair on top of his head.

  In the time it took me to blink, Seth rushed over to Damian and leaned in close to his face. “I think the child label suits you more, seeing as how you’re still so eager to please your parents you’ll drop your own life and bend over whenever they ask.”

  “It’s a business deal, dickhead,” Damian snapped. “My life and career won’t suffer. I wouldn’t have moved otherwise.”

  “Oh, really?” Seth said in a singsong tone. “I doubt that.” He stepped back and tilted his face toward the dining room.

  I closed my eyes to a mere crack in response.

  “Doubt away. It really doesn’t matter,” Damian said.

  “You are so right.” Seth’s voice boomed through the house. “What matters is that you took that deal. So now we’re here. I want you to hand over the shop keys so I can take what I’m owed.”

  “I don’t have the keys,” Damian answered.

  Peeking through my lashes, I spied on their conversation while I worked my wrists. Despite near constant shifting, the material wasn’t giving, and I still couldn’t locate a knot.

  Seth sneered down at this brother with a look that nightmares were made of. It was hate laced with malice and humor, sadistic enough to speed up my breath and my pulse. I’d seen that look before. It was a look a person had when they were prepared to cast all morality aside.

  “That’s another lie.” Seth cocked his arm back and rammed his fist into Damian’s face.

  Damian grunted. His face fell forward and shoulders slumped.

  “I can do this all night, but I really don’t want to waste my time.” Seth shook out his hand with a laugh. “I’ll give you one more chance. Then this shit gets serious.”

  “Serious, huh? I’m pretty sure we’re already there, asshole.” Damian lifted his face to look at his brother again.

  “I don’t think you understand. Maybe this’ll help.” He looked in my direction and his feet were fast to follow.

  I’d run out of time.

  I closed my eyes, continuing to feign unconsciousness. It was the only choice I had.

  “Uh-uh.” Seth’s voice flowed into my ears just before his hand wrapped around the material at my wrists. He tugged hard, pulling my arms straight and lifting them high. Pain tore through my shoulders and down my arms, forcing me to follow his movement to prevent dislocation. “That’s right, bitch. Get up.”

  My body trembled in his hold, but I got to my knees and hopped to my feet as he yanked my arms harder. With my ankles tied, I wobbled until my balance settled. I kept my eyes clamped shut, refusing to acknowledge the reality of the situation. Maybe it was just some horrid nightmare.

  His breath spread over my face, hot and stinking of alcohol. “Open those eyes, Annisyn. I wondered if I’d ever see them again.”

  Those words took me back to the last time I’d seen him—the same night I’d said goodbye to Damian. The sweetness of his tone churned my stomach as I recalled how close his face had been to mine then too.

  He yanked my ponytail down and grabbed my face, digging his fingers deep into my cheeks. “Look at me!”

  I opened my eyes, glaring at him as I jerked my hands around inside his grip.

  One of his eyebrows quirked and the corner of his thin lips followed suit, amused at my struggle. He looked relatively the same up close, though the years had beaten him down. His face had a rougher edge, with creases on his forehead and lines under his brown eyes. I didn’t give a shit about any of that, though, because he was an asshole who had knocked me out and tied me up in his brother’s house.

  “So glad you’re here, Syn.” He pushed me toward the living room.

  Damian’s eyes were locked on me. A streak of blood stained the corner of his lips and his brows were knitted low over serious eyes.

  I hopped forward with each new push from Seth, wobbling on unsteady feet.

  Seth laughed as we rounded the leather couch beside Damian. His hand released my wrists and within a second, his solid fist struck the center of my back, dropping me to my knees. Unable to stop the momentum, I fell forward onto Damian’s legs.

  “Still think it can’t get more serious, brother?”

  “Shit,” I mumbled, backtracking down the crowded hallway. The home of the Warriors was not a big school, but somehow I’d managed to take a wrong turn for the tenth time today. “Only one class left after this one,” I said, giving myself a pep talk before walking into photography.

  The class started like the rest. I smiled and nodded as the next teacher, Mr. Thompson, introduced me. A few people whispered, some didn’t even bother looking up from their desks. Earlier, I’d recognized a couple of people. One girl even said hi, though most ignored me. I’d expected as much halfway through senior year. People were too focused on the future. My mind was as blank as my future, and that was exactly what I wanted. No ties. No strings. I could take off as soon as I had the diploma in my hand.

  After Mr. Thompson assigned me a camera, I followed the rest of the class to the gym for the latest project: motion. The room was split with coed PE students. Some were playing half-court basketball while the rest were running drills and doing circuit stations set up along the sidelines.

  Mr. Thompson waved to the stocky PE teacher and led us around to the only section of open bleachers. He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses higher on his thick nose then readjusted the loose pants at his hips as he glanced around the room. “Lots of movement happening in here today. Remember your settings, but don’t be afraid to play around with different ideas, different angles. We could have a lot of fun with these when we do more photo manipulation next week, so think creatively.”

  When everyone moved, he pulled me aside. “Let me know if you need any help.”

  “I should be good.” I took off the lens cap. “Thanks.”

  I lingered at the bleachers to get my first shots. Following a few of the whole gym, I moved over to the less crowded drill area. A few cameras stood at the sideline, pointing straight toward the rebound drills—not exactly creative. I scoped the area for something a little more excitin
g and decided on a spot diagonally behind the basket. I took a seat on the floor, making sure I was at a safe enough distance that I wouldn’t get trampled, and peered through the lens. The girls and guys kept catching and tossing the ball against the backboard’s glass, looking as tall as pros from my angle.

  Lowering the camera, I noticed several people watching at me. My choice to do things a bit differently had obviously garnered some attention. I supposed it didn’t matter much since I usually fell off everyone’s radars pretty quickly, especially when they realized I wasn’t exactly the friendly type. I pulled the camera back up to my face and panned my view around the room, waiting for people to lose interest. Most of them looked away within a minute, but as I turned toward the sprinting area, I saw one guy leaning back against the retracted bleachers, still staring. It was him. The guy from Rewind. He wore black basketball shorts and had his arms crossed over a maroon and white school T-shirt. A few people stood next to him, talking animatedly as they waited for their turn to run. He didn’t budge.

  I bit my lip and twisted the lens as far as it would go, wishing it were telephoto so I could zoom in on those eyes. The corners of his lips turned up in a smile that would have made me fall over had I been standing. I grinned behind the camera, knowing I’d been busted.

  “Syn?” I heard a hoarse voice say a few feet behind me.

  I lowered the camera and looked over my shoulder, trying to locate the source.

  “Holy shit. It is you,” said a blond guy as he came closer. He wore a plain gray shirt that was dampened with a semicircle of sweat below his neck.

  I stood up as I watched him stride over, taking in his square face and neck and his wide nose, all splattered with freckles. Ed? “Ed!”

  “You know it.” He grabbed hold of my shoulders and shook me lightly. “I haven’t seen you since River Park. You’re back?”

  The unexpected sight of him had me smiling so big my cheeks started to hurt. It was painfully obvious that I hadn’t worked my smile muscles in a while. “Yeah, just got in the other day actually.”

  His head dipped to the side as he looked me over. “You look exactly the same. Same height.” He waved a hand over my head and pulled it back to his chest for measurement. “Same big eyes.” His finger brushed over my cheek. “Same tiny—” He reached a hand around my arm toward the back of my jeans.