Blood and Tears (Holler Ashby #2)

by Jamie Zakian

  “I don’t have a home.” Dez wobbled to his feet, backing away in a zigzag. “Just go, get the fuck out. Go fuck some skanks and feel better.”

  A broken man or not, Dez was about to get his ass kicked all around this room. Vinny would, but someone had to go check on Tyler.

  “Get dressed,” Vinny barked, heading for the door. “And splash some water on your face.” He stopped in the splintered doorway, turning with his pointed finger high. “If you disgrace Sasha’s memory today, I’ll slit your fucking throat. Then your kid will have no one.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sasha

  A squeak erupted from the springs beneath Sasha, and she giggled. It had been so long since she heard sound besides the woman’s soft voice. She missed that voice, those eyes, her mama. The voice hadn’t come in a while. It should be here soon, flowing in to carry her away from the cold walls, whisk her into its warmth.

  “Good morning, Ellen,” Sasha muttered to herself, but it wasn’t the same.

  Sharp metal dug into her side, the springs slicing through her skin. She didn’t move. Moving made the flesh shred.

  Sasha ran her hand along the wall in front of her, which created a blur of fingertips. It was like she had five hands, but four were shadows that chased the first. Pretty, with the sparkles on the wall. How she loved when the sparkles lit the wall. The tip of her finger fell into a deep groove, stopping the wave of her many hands.

  “What’s this?” Her finger traced a deep line in the wall, which sat beside more lines. She sat up on the cot, her skin ripping from the rusty metal embedded in her side. The sting sent tingles, which brought a smile. It was like a hug, the pain, wrapping around every part of her. “Anything’s better than nothing.”

  Warm streams trickled down her side, slapping the floor below. “Great. Now the rat will come back.” That’s fine, let the critter come. She had some words to exchange with that bastard.

  She reached under her shirt, inspecting the damage. Not bad. This tear was only finger-wide. It’d mend in no time. “Time.” She chuckled. She had all the time, and none at all.

  “Ha!” A laugh shook her chest, sending out another wave of prickly pain. She slapped the wall, and her blood-tipped fingers painted a trail along the deep groove. “Interesting.” Such a bright color, amid the gray. It set her mind ablaze. She lifted her shirt, pulling her cut apart. A thick stream of blood ran from her torn flesh and she gathered up as much color as she could, smearing it along the indents in the wall.

  Over and over, she traced lines. The barbed metal of the cot sliced her knees as she moved, following the indents on the wall. The groove stopped, ending with rough stone, and she leaned back. “Is it art?” She climbed off the bed, backing to the door. The fuzz in her eyes slowly lifted as she squinted. Bit by bit words faded in, clearing for split-seconds before returning to a cloud of haze.

  “A message!”

  Now that she knew it was words, she could read them with her hands. She hurried back to the cot when the flap in the door slid open.

  “Good morning, Ellen.”

  That airy voice stopped Sasha short. She dashed to the door, dropping to her knees. Just beyond her mother’s eyes, she could see light. A world, with things and stuff beside stone walls that sometimes sparkled.

  “Good morning…Mama.”

  “Very nice. You didn’t drink your water.”

  Sasha looked at her tray, sitting untouched beside her.

  “Be a good girl, drink your water.”

  It sounded like solid advice. She was very thirsty. She wrapped her fingers around the cool glass and emptied it in one gulp.

  “Good. Now, would you like to hear about the time you burnt down a warehouse when you were ten?”

  “Yes.” She had no idea what her mother was saying. A numb wave had washed over her, drowning almost everything as it heated her skin. The only thing left was the hum of that voice. When it was near, the world seemed perfect. She closed her eyes, a smile lifting her cheeks as the voice carried her into a cloud of bliss.

  ***

  Dez

  Dez stood in the only field of grass he’d been able to find in this city, a cemetery. The gentle hills of this place reminded him of home. That could be the reason he came here every day and stayed for hours. He looked at the pile of dirt at his feet. That mound of black earth, with its little place card, couldn’t be what drew him here. There was nothing to hold in that dirt. He knew, had tried in a drunken stupor and failed.

  A shadow fell over Sasha’s grave, and Dez looked over his shoulder. Vinny walked beside him, crossing his arms.

  “I knew I’d find you here.”

  Dez returned his stare to the little white place card which rain or tears had smeared. “I’m not drunk.”

  “I didn’t say anything.” Vinny shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing up the gentle slope behind him.

  “What are you looking at?” Dez asked without bothering to lift his gaze.

  “Tyler’s in the car.”

  “You brought him here!” Dez pushed Vinny aside, looking at the lone black sedan parked atop the hill. “What the fuck, dude?”

  “He’s singing that song at his daycare today. He really wants you there.”

  “Fuck.” Dez ran his hands through his hair, smoothing it back. “I know. I knew about that. I’ll ride with you guys.”

  “Why do you keep coming here?” Vinny asked, turning away from Sasha’s grave. “You’re just torturing yourself.”

  “It’s been over a month.” Dez plucked the place card from the ground, tossing it over his shoulder. “They should’ve put up a headstone by now.”

  “Otis wanted some special marble brought in from Italy.” Vinny looked back at the car, then to his feet. “It should be ready in a week or so.”

  “Why don’t I know any of this shit?”

  “Because you miss all the meetings, and the dinners, and the stupid fucking memorials.”

  The level of spite in Vinny’s voice struck Dez like a fist. He’d been too consumed by his own anguish to notice his little brother’s pain.

  “I’m sorry.” Dez reached out and Vinny backed away. He couldn’t blame the guy. A maniac on a rampage had been Dez’s new role for weeks. “A lot of shit got dumped on your shoulders, my shit. I shouldn’t have ducked out on you guys. It’s pathetic…I’m sorry. I’m here from now on, brother.”

  Vinny’s eyes teared up and Dez grabbed his brother, drawing him into a tight embrace. It might’ve been the first time he saw Vinny cry since Sasha died. Hell, it might’ve been the first time he’d ever really hugged his little brother.

  “I’m good,” Vinny said, pulling away to wipe his eyes. “We gotta go.”

  Dez stole one more glimpse at the earth that had begun to settle, then followed Vinny up the hill.

  ***

  Sasha

  A sharp nip tugged at Sasha’s fingertips. Her mother’s voice left her a while ago, but she remained on the floor beside the closed flap. A pinch replaced the nipping on her fingers, jolting her shoulders. She swatted her hand and a squeak rang out, popping her eyes open.

  “Critter!”

  She fell to her hands and knees, chasing the sound of tiny claws tapping the ground. Her head hit the wall, a long thin tail slipping through her fingers.

  “Damn! Almost had you, motherfucker.”

  Next time. She’d catch that critter bastard next time and break its neck for nibbling on her. A rush of heat shot into her toes as she rose from the floor. The wall in front of her pulsed in waves. Such a tranquil sight, the deep red streaks rolling back and forth, up and down. That color, it wasn’t there before.

  “The message!”

  Words had been found, and she had painted them in blood. She knelt on her cot, its pointed ends of metal piercing her knees. Slowly, her finger ran along the carved groove in the wall, and she forced the static in her mind into silence.

  “I…” She moved to the next set of lines, the cot
’s rusty springs sawing out chunks of her knees as she slid over. “A…M. Am.” The last series of marks were so long, halfway through she’d forgotten the game. It was to read the message. Two, three times of trying and she finally reached the end while remembering the beginning.

  “Ellen?”

  The squeal of springs filled her ears as she jumped off the cot. Her back hit the door, and she stared at the red lines on the wall. “I am Ellen.”

  So bright, the words burned against the stone, shining and shimmering in the darkness. I am Ellen.

  “No!” She pounded the sides of her head as she slid down the door. She wasn’t Ellen. Her name was different. She was sure of it. Even though she couldn’t recall it at this moment, the word was different.

  The message floated away from the wall, drifting closer to her. She closed her eyes, but the words were seared into her eyelids. I am Ellen. It wouldn’t leave her sight and now, it echoed in her ears. Who was saying that? Who was Ellen?

  Her hand clutched onto her throat, a low rumble vibrating her fingers. She was talking. She was saying it. “I am Ellen.”

  “No!” She slammed her forehead against the wall. A buzz shot through her head, masking the words that circled the room. She fell to her back. A warm streak ran down the bridge of her nose, pooling in her eye. Since she could no longer see beyond the red haze, she stopped fighting it and fell into it.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The door creaked open and Sasha hopped off her cot, leaving a good amount of flesh to dangle on the springs behind. A flood of light filled the room, blinding her with its gleam. The door never opened. The flap, yes, but not the door.

  Her eyes watered and she peeked between her fingers, squinting. She didn’t know the old woman who walked into her cell, or the two men beside her. When the woman crept closer, though, she glimpsed that stare. Why was her mother’s stare on this old woman’s face?

  “There’s a little problem, Ellen.”

  Sasha knew that voice. It was the one constant in her life, the thing that kept her going in the dark. Today, the voice didn’t bring waves of bliss. It sounded cross, which trembled every one of her bones.

  “It’s been two months now, Ellen, and you haven’t gotten your period. A shitsack baby isn’t part of my plans. I’m sorry sweet girl, but we’re gonna have to take care of this.”

  “What?” Sasha scurried away, and the men grabbed her arms. “No!” she yelled as they forced her to the ground, onto her back in the dirt. One man held her shoulders down while the other sat atop her feet to stop their kicking.

  “Close your eyes, Ellen. This’ll be over quick,” the woman said, raising a shotgun.

  Sasha tried to squirm away, break free, but the butt of a gun sailed toward her stomach. The hit knocked all air from her lungs. She gasped for breath when two more strikes slammed against her stomach. Pain shot out like bolts of lightning, zapping her entire body with its razor-sharp teeth.

  The grip on her arms and legs lifted and the door crashed shut, hurling her back into dark shadows. She pulled her knees to her chest. Every movement sent sharp waves of fire into her gut. Even her sobs burned, and tears were meant to cool hot cheeks. There was a baby, a baby inside her?

  She slid her hand inside her pants, between her legs, coming up with a handful of blood. They killed her baby.

  Her sobs turned to wails. She pulled her knees closer, hugging herself tighter. If only the walls would sparkle, lull her mind into a haze, but they stopped doing that the moment she smeared her blood over their shine. A warm rush flowed between her legs. She could feel it now. Her baby, seeping from her body. She had a baby, once, when she was another girl.

  “Tyler,” she muttered. The curves of his face were lost to her now, but his name could never be stripped from her mind. He must be out there, somewhere. There had to be an out there, beyond this cold room, away from the dark and dirt and blood. That’s where her baby waited, Tyler.

  ***

  Dez

  Tyler tore through the living room, running up the stairs. Dez snickered as Vinny gave chase, tagging the little guy up with Nerf darts.

  “That’s why I love these big penthouse suites,” Otis said, chuckling when Tyler’s dart smacked Vinny square in the forehead. “Lots of room, lots of crazy.”

  “You only use your suite for nasty swinger parties,” Dez said, lighting a joint, “and I hope there ain’t no kids running around at those.” After a few puffs, he held the joint out to Otis. “So, to what do I owe this honor? The Don of the Lazzari family, in my house,” Dez said, laying the mockery on thick.

  “Stop fucking around.” Otis snatched the joint, making himself quite comfortable on the sofa.

  “What? You’ve never stepped foot in this place, and we’ve been here for three months.”

  “I’ve been busy playing mob boss,” Otis said between puffs. “This shit’s hard. You’d know, if you bothered to help out.”

  “Fuck, man. I’ve been busy too.” A little foam dart flew over the staircase, bouncing off the side of Dez’s face.

  “Sorry, Dad,” Tyler yelled over the stomp of his running feet.

  “This shit’s hard,” Dez said through a snicker, tossing the dart at Otis.

  “When are you gonna come to the table? I need you, Dez.”

  “I can’t go there, to that restaurant.” Dez sat beside Otis, keeping his gaze on the plush carpet. Every muscle in his body trembled at the thought of walking through the wide glass doors of Fat Tonys, standing beside the bar, in the last place Sasha’s lips touched his own. He turned away from Otis. Tears welled inside his eyes. He had to blink them back before anyone could see.

  “Sasha would have wanted you to take her spot until Tyler was old enough to claim it.”

  “My son isn’t gonna live this life. Tyler wants to be a rock star.”

  Otis chuckled. He rose from the couch, standing in front of Dez. “I won’t pressure you. In fact, I’ll never ask again. The seat will always be waiting for you.” He handed Dez a smoking stub of a joint then slapped him on the shoulder.

  Dez stared at the tunnel of gray smoke wafting in front of his face. Sasha would kick his fucking ass for being so weak. Otis needed him. What the fuck was he doing?

  “It’s not as bad as you think at Fat Tonys,” Otis said from the doorway. “You can almost feel her energy there.”

  It was probably true. Sasha was most alive when she had an opportunity to be bad. It would explain why Vinny hung out there so much.

  “I’ll come down tonight, have a late dinner,” Dez said, walking from the room to escape Otis’s stupid grin.

  ***

  Sasha

  “Sasha.”

  Somebody was talking to someone else. It wasn’t her business. “It’s best to mind your own business ‘round here,” she mumbled, burying her cheek against the sharp metal cot.

  “Hey! Little girl.”

  She sat up, her cry eclipsing the sound of metal springs ripping her skin. Damn, she’d stayed too long in one place. “When you stay too long, the skin becomes one with metal,” she said, flicking clumps of her torn flesh off the cot’s springs. “Not good.”

  “Sasha.”

  There was that voice again, calling to someone she knew, in a deep tone that boiled her blood.

  “Who’s Sasha?” She turned toward the door, catching a different set of eyes in the flap. These eyes were dark, wide with fear. Was it her? She couldn’t be on both sides of the door, not at the same time.

  “You’re Sasha,” he said, reaching his fingers through the thin slot.

  She leapt off the cot, latching onto that hand before it could pull away. A gentle touch. It was like magic. She rubbed the rough fingers on her sore cheek, soaking in a warmth that had abandoned her so long ago.

  “You have to stop drinking the water, Sasha.”

  “I am Sasha?” It had to be right. This man called her that, and she knew this man. Every word he spoke brought her closer to the cusp of a memor
y.

  “That’s right, little girl.”

  “Dante,” she grunted. She hated him, but she loved him more than anyone else in this moment. His hand, caressing her cheek, was the best sensation she ever experienced.

  “Yeah. I found you, little girl. Would’ve come sooner, but they just unchained me.”

  “Open the door.” She lifted a shaky hand, banging on the solid surface.

  “Shh. They don’t know I’m down here. Don’t drink the water. It’s loaded with LSD.”

  She looked at her tall glass of crystal clear water. How could she not drink it? She was so thirsty.

  “Here.” Dante pushed a plastic baggie through the slot, drops of the water within spilling from its seam. “It’s rainwater.”

  She poured the warm liquid in her mouth, gagging on bits of leaves.

  “Empty out the glass in your shit bucket,” Dante whispered. “I need you to be strong. We’re busting out of here.”

  Sasha dumped the drug-laced water in the putrid bucket that was her toilet, hurrying back to the flap. “Let me out. I can be strong now.”

  “I don’t have the key. When they come to bring your tray tonight, use this.” Dante shoved a sharp piece of metal into Sasha’s hand then backed away.

  “No! Don’t leave me,” she cried out, reaching her fingers through the thin slit in the metal door.

  Dante kissed Sasha’s bloody fingertips then pushed her hand back inside. “I’ll be waiting for you, tonight. Don’t drink the water.” His eyes wavered, filling with regret before he slid the flap shut.

  ***

  Sasha sat in the corner right beside the door. If rough edges of metal weren’t digging into her palm, she’d never believe a devil had come for a visit. Her gaze stuck to the wall, and the faded words that kept her company. I am Ellen.

  “You,” she growled at the wall. “You are Ellen.” She was Sasha.