by Ryan Michele
He yanks harder, tearing the hair from my scalp in clumps, each chunk of my hair searing me. He doesn’t stop, just grabs more and more—yanking and pulling and tossing the tattered hair to the ground. I don’t want to say them—I don’t want her to come here, but I want the pain to stop. I want him to stop pulling my hair because it’s not helping me with the darkness I desperately want; no, this is only causing more and more pain. Flashbacks hit of when Bristyl and I would do our hair all up to go out for the night, making sure each curl was in place. Now, I’ll die with most of my hair gone.
“Come to my parents’ house, now.” The words come out as a cry and each one I hate because I know I’ve just brought Bristyl to this, and that guilt weighs heavy on me. Please just take me away from this. Put me out of my misery.
I can only hope now that she doesn’t come alone. No matter what they tell her or what she thinks, I need her to be smart enough not to come alone.
He punches me again, this time with the phone, releasing my hair; guess he didn’t like my hesitation, then swipes the phone without another word to Bristyl. Please, Bristyl, don’t come here alone. Bring your boyfriend and his guys. Bring Green. Please. They won’t let them touch her. Bristyl will be safe with them.
Green, his eyes, they comfort me even in this hell. I always love movies with the instant connection but never thought it was real. Now, I guess I’ll never know for sure because the flutters I felt when around Green will never be fully developed and blossom into something special. Instead, I’ll be rotting, but thankfully the pain will cease.
I’m almost there, into the darkness, my eyelids get heavier and heavier as confusion begins to take root. I’m right there on the cliff, so high I can almost see the bottom where the beautiful water lays and peacefulness will overtake me. If I could just fall over. Topple. Freefall. Plummet. Please let me get there. When I try to open my eyes, they won’t cooperate and I count this as a blessing, as a sign that it’s coming. The end. The calm. The peacefulness. The point where the agony will cease to exist.
Time ticks on, with Len inflicting more misery, and I drift in and out of consciousness as he touches me, hurts me. The tears come and go, letting him know if I’m alert or not. It’s like the moment I get to the brink where I won’t come out of it. He changes the angle and the level of pain increases, jolting my body back to awareness. I never knew so many tears could come from one person before. But I’m living proof there are many.
My mind has given up, but my body is involuntarily still fighting for life.
Then I hear it off in the distance… Bristyl’s screams for me. I’m able to minutely crack open an eye, seeing my best friend in the doorway to the room. Guilt pounds me in the head like a sledgehammer. She shouldn’t be here and what’s worse, there’s no one behind her.
Panic grips me like never before.
I did this, and the action creates a deep, black mark on my soul. I’ll die knowing I brought her into the depths of hell right behind me. I’ll die knowing her slow, agonizing death is on my hands as much as theirs for getting her here. I’ll die knowing I screwed over the person I’m closest to in my entire life.
The knife slices deeply across my rib cage, a horribly sensitive place from the brutal beatings, and I’m sure with this cut he hit some organs.
“About fuckin’ time you got here.” Len slices into my arm, and I let out another whimper.
“Stop! What are you doing?” Bristyl screams, walking into the room, the look of utter shock and fear crossing her features. My mouth feels like sandpaper, and my brain is shutting off. The fight within myself is like a war of two sides, neither wanting to relinquish control. I want to warn her, but can’t get the energy out, but I fight like hell.
“Want her to die?” Len asks her, calm as can be.
I quickly hear, “No!”
“Then you come with me. And, bitch, you fight me, I’ll gut you. Then I’ll come back and gut your friend. I may have to fuck her, too. All this shit is gettin’ me hard.” Bile threatens to spill and I fear choking, but it would be a better way to go. I welcome it, although it doesn’t come. That’s one thing these assholes haven’t done. Cut me down there, yes, but actually stick anything inside me, no. It’s been the only blessing in this fucked up mess. I have tensed for it, prepared for it in my mind as much as I could, and my only reprieve has been that it hasn’t happened… yet.
Bristyl takes a step further in the room. “Where?”
He points the knife, that is dripping in my blood, directly at her. “No fuckin’ questions. You make a fuckin’ sound, I’ll slit your throat. Got nothin’ to lose.”
Len doesn’t wait for her to answer, he gouges the knife into my side as I cry and scream so scratchy you can barely hear me now.
But I clear my throat as best as I can, needing to say something, because the guilt is riding me hard. I don’t want my last memory of my best friend to be this. “Get away from him, Bristyl!” I try to scream, but it comes out hoarse, cracked and laced with pain, as he picks up the blade and punctures me again.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” Len twists the knife already lodged in my flesh, creating agony through me. Numbness doesn’t come, but I pray that it will. Some sort of relief. With Bristyl here, I don’t want to die. I want to try to save her, then I can die. Fighting back the splashes of colors dancing in my vision, I hold onto reality as hard as I can.
“Okay! Okay! Stop!” Bristyl yells, trying to get Len’s attention, waving her arms in front of her sporadically. “I’ll go. Come on. Right now.” I came to terms with dying here today, but I can’t let Bristyl die with me.
“Don’t!” I crack, but it again comes out haggard and broken from the level of trauma made to my now fragile body. I never realized how much energy it takes to speak. It’s another thing in my life that I’ve taken for granted. Just talking to the ones I love, now it feels like I’ll never be able to speak again. Yet again, another level of fear, realizing I’ll never do things like talking again.
Len lifts his fist and punches me in the temple so hard my eyes roll into the back of my head and close. Mumbled sounds come from my lips, but I have no comprehension of them.
“No!” Bristyl says faintly in the background.
“Don’t,” is the last word from my lips as the darkness finally takes over. Whether she could understand me or not, I’ll never know. It’s oblivion, a dark space I find myself in where I’m not all the way conscious, but I don’t think I’m dead yet either.
The rope rubs on my torn, tattered flesh, but the pain increases as someone is touching me. Fear rushes through me again. Opening my eyes, a fog is over them making everything fuzzy and grainy, unable to focus. I must have passed out. Everything comes running back in a flash, and I tug at the ropes, wanting to get far away from these men, some of my fight coming back, but along with that comes the hurt and pain as well. Adrenaline courses through me as my body wants to give one more fight, and my mind wants to succumb to the darkness of death.
“Easy, Leah. I’ve got you.” Focusing on the voice and blinking a few times, Stone, Bristyl’s brother, stands on the side of the bed untying the knots.
Tears fall from my eyes, and I don’t know if it’s relief that he found me or if it’s mortification of how I must look. Everything is swirling in my head so fast, I wish I’d pass back out, but I really want out of here because they’ll come back. That I have no doubt. If this is my one little sliver of hope to get out of this mess, as painful as it is, I’m taking it.
A tug comes on my arm, and a whimper escapes, “Shh… let me get you out of these ropes. The ambulance is on its way.”
I should be relieved, right? Getting away from those assholes and receiving medical attention, but all there is, is fear. Fear they will come back. Fear that they will hurt Bristyl.
God, Bristyl. Did they save her?
Stone is here, I try to clear my thoughts. The panic builds. Fear that they will hurt Stone if they find him here. There’s also conf
usion, kind of like my brain has been put in a blender set on high and swirled around for hours.
Painstakingly slow, he removes the ropes, but my body doesn’t want to move from this spot, the rough part of the rope leaving my wrists bloody and torn up. My arms lift a slight bit, but everything feels heavy, almost numb, like my brain knows it’s in too much pain to get through another moment. I want it all to go away.
“Oh God.” My eyes, only small slits, slowly focus on the door and Green stands there, his face losing all of its color. The same mortification fills me, but this time it’s also the knowledge that Green will never look at me the same again.
We’ve kept in contact since our first meeting at the rally, even met a couple of times in person. Getting to know him without seeing him face to face was unbelievable, and I felt connected to him in a way I never had with another person before.
Now.
Now. I’m a mess. Inside, outside… I’m conflicted, wanting him here and not wanting him here in the same breath. When he comes to the edge of the bed, kneeling down and grabbing my hand, sobs erupt until I pass out.
There is no hope for things to ever be the same between us again.
3
Green
Nothing would prepare me for what I see around the corner. Holy mother of God. Leah. My fucking Leah. They did this. They fucking did this decimation to her, cutting her up like a piece of meat from some animal. Blood stains the once cream-colored comforter, and the pools of the sticky languid substance coat the rug and floor beneath.
The coppery scent clings to the air, assaulting my senses, and her low whimpers eat me alive. It looks like something you’d see on some twisted horror movie, except it’s not. It’s reality. My reality. Hell, her reality.
Horror seeps down into my bones, threatening to take my feet out from under me. I’ve seen so much in my day, but never someone I care about looking so brutalized. A sickness stirs in my stomach that flows throughout me. It’s a mixture of dread and… anger.
Rage like nothing I’ve ever felt scorches from the inside out, and it takes everything in me to contain it because she needs me to get her help right now, not go apeshit like I want. She’s all that matters, not my vibrating feelings of revenge.
“We need to get her out of here now. Len and Poe are on their way back to finish what they started,” Stone says, snapping me out of my shock. Grabbing a blanket, I wrap Leah’s fragile body in it, not wanting to move her, but I’ll be damned if those two assholes ever find her. I lift her as she gives small groans of pain.
Boot steps can be heard in the hallway, and Stone pulls out his gun aiming it at the door. Waiting to see who the visitor is, I debate on setting her down but can’t. If it’s Len and Poe, Stone will take them out with two shots. Leah needs to get to a hospital now. I can feel her blood soaking through the blanket onto my shirt.
“What the fuck, brother?” Tug glides into the room like this is just another day, and I have to admit—it pretty much is, unfortunately. Relief washes over me as he must have pulled off from the other guys and followed me here. My brothers always have my back.
Ravage MC. My family. My life.
“Ambulance is coming, which means cops. Len and Poe are supposed to come here to get Leah. Need you to cut them off before they see the cops here.” I eye my brother, silently communicating what needs to be done to these wastes of human space.
Tug cracks his knuckles and looks at Stone. “You in on this?”
“Fuck yeah!”
Tug lays it out. “You go by my call. This is Ravage cleanup, got me?” Stone is part of the Sinister Sons MC here in Florida. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t fly, but from the pissed off look of Stone, it will—this once.
I turn to the door just as I hear, “Got it,” from Stone.
Calling over my shoulder, “I want updates on this shit. I’ll be at the hospital.”
Lights flash everywhere as I walk out carrying a very limp Leah. The cops are first to arrive on the scene, and as they take me in then look to Leah everything on their radar goes up. They become more attentive to me instead of the bleeding woman in my arms. It makes me furious, but I’m too damn scared I’m holding what will be a dead Leah to give a shit.
“What happened?” the cop with the dark brown hair and hand on his gun asks me.
“She’s hurt. I got here and saw her like this…” My voice cracks and I clear my throat, choking on my words. Describing the scene makes bile rise in my throat. It will be forever imprinted in my brain. The cop surprisingly takes his time with me.
Suddenly the sirens get closer, and the EMT arrives. Ignoring the cops, we dart to the back of the truck as a woman and a man round the vehicle to us. The clanking of the doors mixed with the sirens and lights will not be something that I’ll forget anytime soon. The panic and desperation to get her help claws at my insides, threatening to bleed me dry.
Gently, I place her on the gurney they just pulled out. Leah groans and whimpers. Struggling not to grab her hand and let these two work, I rip my bloodstained hands through my hair and pull hard.
“Tell us what you know,” the woman EMT asks while checking out Leah’s injuries.
“I don’t know.” Always tell the truth as much as possible. It makes the lies easier for others to believe and omission is the best medicine. “I found her beaten and tied to the bed. I untied her, wrapped her in the blanket, and brought her out here to you.”
“She’s lost a lot of blood,” the male EMT says. While I knew it was true when I saw her on the bed, having it said out loud feeds my anger. The pull to take off and find these assholes is strong, like a magnet wanting to destroy. I’m torn deeply from staying with Leah and wanting to go hunting for revenge.
Leah moans, and I swear it’s my name on her lips making my decision clear.
“Get her in. We need to stop the bleeding,” the woman EMT says as the man nods once, and they push Leah inside the truck. I go to jump in with her, but am stopped by a hand. One that obviously wants to be chopped off.
Turning around, it’s one of the cops. “Sir, I need you to stay and answer a few questions.”
“No.” I hoist myself into the ambulance and yell out, “I’ll be at the hospital, by her side. You need to talk to me, find me there.” The doors are shut without them answering, and we take off.
Inside this cramped space, the woman and I are back with Leah. The EMT is trying to cover all of the wounds that are oozing blood, but she doesn’t have enough hands to hold them in place doing no good. She looks up at me and orders, “Hold these,” and this is one time that I’ll gladly take orders from a civilian.
Pressing down, Leah emits so many different sounds it’s hard to distinguish. Silent tears run down her face. “Shh… baby, I’ve got you. You’re goin’ to the hospital where they’ll fix you right up.” More groans.
Scared. Yes. I’m completely and utterly scared that what I just told Leah is a full out lie. Over the years, I’ve learned to control my emotions, but I can’t get my leg to stop bouncing as the fear and anguish take over.
She has to live.
She has to be okay.
Leah has an IV in her arm and a tube of oxygen around her nose. Her eyes are slits because they’re so swollen, and I can’t tell if they are open or closed at this point. I keep giving her soft words until the ambulance stops and chaos ensues.
The doors fly open and the hospital team rushes Leah out and through the doors like we’re on some sick as fuck television drama, while a nurse tries to check me out when I climb out too. All I want is to be close to Leah, but I’m not allowed back. They said something about surgery as they rushed her through two steel doors. The nice brunette nurse leads me to a waiting room which is another hell in and of itself. Each second I sit here is another second I don’t have Leah in my arms. It’s another second that she could possibly be taken from me. The ache in my heart expands.
Sitting in the waiting room, the urge to make those motherfucker
s pay eats at me. The only thing keeping me here is Leah, who is in surgery and doesn’t know I’m even here. But I do and that’s what matters, and I’ll send her every bit of strength that I have to get her through this. Revenge is a painful thing when you’re not there to give it, and those fuckers deserve the worst.
Pulling out my cell, I dial Tug. “Yeah.” He answers on the first ring, which means he’s not busy. That is not a good thing because he should be taking care of those motherfuckers who hurt my girl.
“Update!” I bark roughly into the phone, moving to the furthest corner in the wide room. When we got the call from Cooper to roll out, we did and fast. Made it to Crest, Florida in half the time and by some miracle didn’t get pulled over by the cops. We broke off with me going to Leah’s house with Tug following and the rest of the guys going to get Cooper.
Everything was fucked up, but Cruz had a plan rolled out immediately and knowing my connection to Leah, he sent me to her knowing I would go anyway.
“We have the packages.” Anger bubbles, my grip on the phone getting tighter, people passing by looking my way curiously. I need to calm my shit, but it’s fucking hard when there is nothing I can do to help her. This absolute no control shit is for the birds. “They’re being moved with great care. We’ll deal with exporting as soon as possible.” The Ravage MC will do this clean with no blowback, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be there with every fiber of my being.
Fuck. This means that I won’t get to see these assholes take their last breath. I won’t get to make them pay for every mark on her beautiful body. Everything in me wants to go teach these assholes a lesson and give them exactly what they did to Leah, only make it a thousand times more painful. But I won’t, I can’t leave her.
