by Jamie Zakian
Someone would come soon, dump her bucket, and replace her tray. The soothing voice she clung to which hid behind her mother’s eyes didn’t come with the second tray. At least, she didn’t think it did. She didn’t know how many trays equaled one day, or who brought them. A whirlwind of swirling shapes, colors that melded, had been all she knew. Until that voice drew her out.
“Good morning, Ellen,” she sneered. No more. Never again will she hear that phrase, nor slip into a world of shadows.
Footsteps thumped in the distance, each heavy thud quaking her bones. She slumped down, gripping the metal tighter. Its barbed edge sliced her palm, blood ran down her wrist, but she didn’t dare loosen her hold. The flap slid open, and her eyes snapped shut. Her glass was empty. Whoever peeked inside would think she was knocked out, but she wasn’t.
The door creaked open, sending jitters into her skinless toes. She peeked through her tangled, crusty hair. A man knelt on one knee, placing down a tray, and Sasha lunged forward. She wrapped her arm around his head, and her nails sunk into his eye. Before he could yell, she jammed the pointed bit of metal into his neck. Blood sprayed her face as she tore. The metal gouged her hand, biting her skin, but she kept pushing, pulling, ripping.
Watery garbles fell under the squish of tearing flesh. The man dropped to his side, and Sasha’s knees hit the floor. A gaping wound drew her stare. The shards of skin, flapping against veins as they pumped blood to the dirt, was more beautiful than art.
More footsteps thumped from beyond the open door. The open door! A gunshot rang out and Sasha jumped to her feet, running out of the dark cell. Light pierced her eyes, shooting straight to the back of her brain. She staggered down a narrow, stone passage. Flakes of rock showered to the ground as her sides bounced from one wall to another. She blinked back the sting of bright lights, stumbling toward a set of wooden stairs.
Her foot caught something hard and she tripped, landing on the bottom step. She glanced back as a shotgun clattered to the floor. A wide smile split her cracked lips and she grabbed the gun, wobbling up the stairs.
A barrage of gunshots rattled the wood beneath her bare feet, growing louder as she crept onto a dim landing and inched down a hallway. Each blast jolted her achy muscles. Her legs fought every step, but she kept going. She had to get out, away from that stifling room of darkness, far from the walls that swayed.
Sasha stumbled into a living room, landing at the edge of a shootout. A line of men stood in front of her, firing their guns across the room. Clouds of smoke rose from flashing barrels. She couldn't see what the men were shooting at, didn't know who these men were. The thunderous pops of gunfire filled her head, and gray fog crammed into the room. She couldn't think, beyond the fact that these people stood between her and the front door, so she raised the gun in her hands and pulled the trigger.
A man dropped to the floor at Sasha’s feet. The deafening booms lessened, guns veered her way, and she fired off the last round. Pellets of buckshot scattered out. Two more men fell to the floor, but they weren’t out. Their strong groans sent the promise they’d rise again, ready to blast her ass to shreds.
An old woman swung a handgun toward Sasha, pulling the trigger. The gun’s flash blinded Sasha for a split second. Her shoulder rocked back as a bullet tore through her flesh, but she didn’t feel it. Hot blood gushed down her arm, pellets of shotgun rounds flew past her face, but all she knew was the fiery scorch of rage that swelled inside her chest.
Sasha stepped toward the woman who’d stolen her mother’s glare. Another bullet struck her left arm, flinging it back, yet she hobbled forward. She clutched onto the woman’s neck with one hand, seizing the wrinkled wrist that clung to a revolver with the other.
“I…am…Sasha,” she growled, forcing the gun in the woman’s shaky hand away from her chest. Sasha squeezed the woman’s neck, pushed the bitch’s arm until the barrel was positioned under the woman’s own chin. A bright flash erupted from the gun’s barrel, clouding the world in white. Warm drops splashed Sasha’s face, and the old woman dropped from her grasp.
Sasha staggered back from her dead mother’s eyes, which rested on an old woman’s blood-streaked face. Her feet tangled into a pile of limp arms, and she crashed to the floor. A steady buzz claimed her ears, and a red haze snuck up to drag her into its clutches. Gunfire still circled the room. She couldn’t hear it but every bang seeped into her body, shuddering her bones. It wasn’t over yet. She’d come too far, was too close, to just die on this floor.
Energy trickled in, though not enough for Sasha to peel her back from the floor. She groped the splintered wood beside her, splashing puddles and slapping skin. Cool metal soothed the burn of her palm, a trigger grazing her finger. She rolled onto her stomach, clutching onto the butt of a shotgun. A cry ripped from her chest as she pushed herself to her knees. The buzz in her ears faded just enough for the click of a bolt action to stream through. She looked up, beyond the barrel in her face, to an ugly man’s sneer.
A loud blast made Sasha cringe. The man dropped to the floor beside her, his hate-filled stare now empty and stuck on her. A hand landed on Sasha’s back, and she jumped to the side. Even though her right shoulder throbbed and her left arm burned, she lifted the long gun in her hands.
“Sasha! It’s me.”
The man in front of her looked familiar, like a beaten-down skinny version of Dante. He lowered the rifle in his hand, nodding. The eyes matched, but that could be deceiving. A horrid lesson she’d learned in the dark.
“Dante?”
“That’s right, little girl.”
It was him. She could feel the frenzy of hatred only his proximity could provide. Sasha lifted the gun higher, right to Dante’s face. “I hate you,” she sneered.
“I know, little girl. I know.” Dante dropped the gun in his grip, holding his hand out in front of Sasha. “Let me take you to your people.”
“My people?” A tremble took the gun down, its barrel banging to the floor.
“Yeah. Your trucker brothers.”
“Vinny!” Although Sasha couldn’t picture Vinny’s face, she could almost feel his arms around her.
Dante took Sasha by the hand, helping her off the floor. She teetered on her feet, flinching when his arm slid around her waist.
“It’s all right, Sasha. I won’t hurt you.”
She let her weight fall to Dante’s side as they limped to the door. “That bitch killed my baby.”
“Tyler?”
“No. I was pregnant.”
Dante tightened his hold, moving faster toward the sparkle of stars beyond a crooked doorway. Sasha stopped in the threshold, looking back. Her feet wouldn’t carry her ass from this place, not until she was sure that crazy old bitch was dead.
The woman lay in a crumpled heap. Pink chunks oozed from the hole in the top of the woman’s head, and her cruel face was now frozen in a silent scream of agony. It was a wonderful sight. Bodies were scattered across the floor. It gave Sasha the strength to walk away from the hellish house and into the sweet smelling night.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sasha rolled her head away from a car’s window, sinking into a ripped vinyl seat. Lights zoomed by in streaks, blurring in swirls of color, but she could tell they were in the city. Blood dripped from the bullet holes in her shoulder and arm, running down her fingertips and soaking into her stiff pants. It was hard to tell which stains were old and which were new. Every stitch of tattered fabric carried some shade of red or brown.
“We’re almost there,” Dante said. He looked so small behind the large steering wheel of this station wagon. Somehow, the man had lost half his muscle mass. She loathed the thought of her body looking the same, but it probably did…or worse.
Every second of fresh air brought clarity to her mind, though she still couldn’t process what had happened.
“How long has it been?” Sasha asked, trying to put the days that passed in order and failing.
“I’m not sure. Two, maybe three
months.”
“Months?” The word barely made a sound. It might not have even slipped past her dry lips.
Brakes squealed, and the car rocked to a stop. Dante turned to face Sasha, wiping a tear from her blood-crusted cheek.
“We’re here,” he said, gesturing to her window. “Fat Tonys.”
Sasha turned to catch a glimpse, but a red-tinged haze had claimed her vision.
“Can you get inside all right?”
Nothing would keep her ass from getting into that restaurant, not even the fact that she could barely see it. Sasha opened her door, steering her gaze back to Dante. “We still have a score to settle, you and I.”
Dante snickered, leaning against his door. The way he looked at her, with such pride and love. It was a gaze she’d never seen aimed her way before, yet it did little to quench the fire his face ignited in her veins.
“I know,” Dante said through a smile. “Give me a few months to recoup.”
“Yeah. All right.” Sasha climbed from the car, nearly dropping to her knees. People shuffled along the sidewalk, jumping aside as she limped by. Their gasps filled her ears, echoing. The blur of lights almost forced her eyes to shut, but she was so close. She reached out, swatting air, and the door opened. A man stood beside her, waving his arms and fussing about, but she kept going.
Once her foot hit the lobby and she glimpsed a curvy hostess, her body felt free to collapse to the floor. People hovered over her; hands brushed her forehead. She strained to get a glimpse of a familiar face, but darkness came quick to drag her under.
***
Dez
Jitters ran through Dez, and he squirmed in his padded chair. Otis was a fucking liar. The energy Fat Tonys emitted didn’t belong to Sasha. It spawned from greed. A shine coated every surface. It was a fake glimmer, designed to dupe the average idiot into wanting more. The worse part, it actually worked. Every table below their private section was filled as well as the bar and probably the lobby. What a spectacle, one he had no desire to witness. To think, he left his kid with a sitter for this shit.
Dez tossed his napkin onto the table. Just as he leaned over to tell Otis he was out, a scream echoed from the lobby. Dez jumped to his feet. Before his chair could crash to the floor, he ran from the table.
A crowd of people gathered in the lobby, crying out as they shoved one another to get a better look.
“Back up,” Dez yelled, pushing people aside. He looked down and his heart jumped into his throat, blocking off all air. His legs gave out, taking his big ass to the floor. It couldn’t be. Sasha couldn’t be lying in front of him, covered in dirt and bleeding from ripped shards on every inch of her skin. For a second, Dez thought she literally clawed her way out of her grave.
Dez reached out, tapping Sasha’s arm. “Fuck!” She was real. People gathered closer around him, and panicked voices rose. Dez wrapped his fingers around the butt of his holstered gun. Everyone who stood anywhere near Sasha was getting shot. Before he could pull the revolver from its holster, Vinny and Otis shooed the crowd away.
“Oh my God!” Vinny cried out, dropping to his knees. He pulled Sasha’s limp body onto his lap, holding tight. “I knew that wasn’t her in the alley. Fucking told you guys!”
Dez couldn’t move, speak, breathe. He had touched Sasha’s hand and felt it. Somehow, someway, she came back to him. It looked like she might have fought her way through Hell to do it, but she came back to him.
“We got to get her into the back,” Enzo said. He knelt down, sliding his hands under Sasha.
“No!” Vinny pulled Sasha closer, her bloody feet leaving a trail on the carpet. “I got her.”
A numb sensation held Dez to the floor, even as Vinny carried the missing piece of his heart away. He should chase Sasha’s mangled body, but he was afraid. Even though blood still stained the floor, he couldn’t trust what his own eyes had saw.
Otis stepped beside Dez and he shot to his feet, latching onto the man’s shirt.
“Was that her? Was it really Sasha?”
“Yeah,” Otis muttered, the whites of his wide eyes dull compared to the complexion of his face.
“We have to get her to the hospital.” Dez kept his hold on Otis, pulling the man as he followed the path of blood.
“I already called our doctor.”
“Fuck that!” Dez stopped short, shaking Otis. “Did you see her? She needs the hospital!”
“Our doc is better than any hospital.” Otis placed his hands on Dez’s wrists, holding tight. “Trust me.”
Dez released his grip on Otis, running into the backroom. He shoved Vinny aside, wrapping his arms around Sasha. A groan seeped from her lips. The sound sparked a chuckle he couldn’t stop. It meant she was alive. He kissed her forehead, getting a mouthful of blood. A small fee to hold his wife in his arms again. The icy grip on his soul melted the longer he clung to Sasha, letting bits of warmth back in. He may never let her go. It was too risky.
A man pushed his way into the room, tugging on Dez’s arm. “Son, I need to examine her.”
The guy was lucky he had a black bag in his hand. If anyone other than a doctor had tried to pull Dez from Sasha, he might have broken some jaws. Dez stepped back, as far as his body would allow. Three feet, at the most.
“I’m going to need privacy,” the man said, opening his large bag and pulling out one barbaric looking tool after another.
“Too fucking bad,” Dez said, shrugging away from Vinny’s clutch. “She doesn’t leave my sight.”
“You want her to die then?” the doc asked, laying a pouch of blood labeled Sasha L. on the desk beside him.
“Come on, Dez,” Vinny said, pulling on Dez’s arm.
Dez almost spun around and slugged Vinny. They actually thought he would leave Sasha, alone, with some strange Italian guy.
Vinny took Dez by the hand, softly. He could nearly feel the desperation beaming from his brother’s grasp. His gaze veered to Otis, then Enzo. They were all terrified to lose Sasha after just getting her back. Dez walked to the door, which was a miracle considering the quake of his legs. Despite his mind’s protest, he looked back into the large office. The doctor had cut Sasha’s filthy clothes off, struggling to find a place to start. There wasn’t a single place on her beautiful body that hadn’t been bruised, torn, ripped open.
A cry skipped Dez’s heart as it rolled past his chest, lodging in his throat. Vinny gave him a little push, which got his feet in gear. His mind, however, would need a much bigger shove.
***
Sasha
Sasha rolled her head to the side, forcing her eyes to open. She had no idea where she was. It was bright, warm, soft. They were amazing sensations, ones she had long forgotten. This could be Heaven.
A hand clutched onto Sasha’s arm, and she jerked away from the tight grip.
“Stop,” a man’s voice cried out.
The grip tightened and Sasha hurled her fist, pushing at the solid body over her. “No! Let me go.”
“It’s me. Dez!”
Sasha stopped tossing punches and looked up from the wide chest in front of her. Electric blue eyes cut through the haze, driving a misty fog from her mind. “Dez?” That face, with a smile to boot. Now that she was looking at it, she didn’t know how she could’ve forgotten it. “I am Sasha.”
“I know who you are,” Dez said in a half-cry/half-chuckle.
Of course he knew. She had to remind herself, one last time.
“You must have ripped your stitches,” he said, staring at the red stain spreading along her fresh white t-shirt.
Dez moved away and Sasha pulled his arm, bringing him back to her side. “Dez.” She drew his arm closer, squeezing it to her chest. Not even his touch could stop the tears which had begun to flow down her cheeks. “They killed our baby.”
“What?”
He caressed her forehead, dulling her mind’s ache just a tad. “I was pregnant. They took it from me. I…I couldn’t stop them from…” Sobs choked out her words
. Not that she had any left.
“It’s okay.” Dez wrapped his arms around Sasha, sending a million red-hot needles to assault her entire body. The pain was almost too much to bear, but his hug was the shit dreams were made of, so she let it go on.
“I thought you were dead,” Dez whispered. His arms shook, so violently they rattled Sasha’s bones. She squeezed him tight. He must’ve given all his strength to her. It was only right to bounce some back.
“I saw your body,” he said in a quaver. “Buried you.”
“Fuck!” Sasha leaned back and Dez moved away, but not very far. “This must be one hell of a surprise then.”
Dez laughed, even though tears streamed from his eyes. “A fucking great one.” He lifted the blanket, crawling into the bed beside Sasha. His big, safe arm slid around her waist. It was amazing, his ability to hold her so tight and so gently at the same time.
“Tell me who did this to you. I’ll carve out their intestines and strangle them with it.”
The visual alone was enough to bring a smile, which quickly faded as jagged memories rushed back in.
“They’re all dead. All of them.”
“The Mancinis?”
Sasha nodded. She couldn’t spout out any more words, deal with the memory of being trapped in darkness any longer. Her body ached, and her brain throbbed. She didn’t want to dredge it up, tell everyone how she broke inside a tiny cell.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” Dez whispered, holding tighter. “Ever.”
Sasha sank against the strong body behind her. Horrors couldn’t touch her while tucked inside these arms. Only when she left their embrace did the nightmares begin. If he’d hold her forever, in this place of soft pillows and fluffy blankets, she could be safe.
A heavy weight pulled on her eyelids, but she fought to keep them open. She wanted to savor this moment. The tingles that spawned from Dez’s fingertips had to be remembered, just in case she awoke in a cold cell.
