Begging for Bad Boys

by Willow Winters

  A chill sweeps through my body, killing the mood. Who would be calling him so late?

  He doesn’t make a move to go for it. “Do you need to get that?”

  “No, it's not important,” he says as he continues kissing down my neck.

  “But what if it's someone from work?” I ask as I slide off him, ignoring how his hands at my hip are trying to hold me to him.

  He strokes my cheek softly. “It doesn't matter, sweetheart. When I'm with you, I'm with you. No one else matters.” He pulls me on top of him and starts kissing my collarbone, running his hand down my back to my ass.

  His phone starts ringing again. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I have a bad feeling about this. “Are you sure?” I ask, glancing at his phone and then back at him.

  I know his mom has a different ringtone, so it’s not her. It’s not his house calling, but I don’t like it. I have a really bad fucking feeling.

  “I'm positive. Come on, it's late. Let’s get some sleep,” he says and he pulls me closer to him. He covers us both with the down comforter, and wraps his arm around my waist.

  I hope it isn't anything important and that it’s just my paranoia. I try focusing on his steady heartbeat and rhythmic breathing.

  But a moment later it goes off again. I push off of him and give him a look.

  He sighs with exasperation and crawls out of bed, walking over to the dresser to check his phone, the third call going to voicemail before he’s able to answer.

  He puts his phone to his ear to listen to his voicemail. I pull my knees up to my chest as I wait for him to tell me everything is okay and that he was right. But my heart stills in my chest as his expression changes.

  The blood drains from his face. It’s bad. Whatever’s happened is bad. Fuck. My heart squeezes into a painful knot.

  “I have to go,” he says, pulling his jeans on and stepping into his shoes.

  I’m already out of bed, grabbing a pair of yoga pants off the floor and trying to put them on quickly. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s my Ma, I have to go. I’ll call you later,” he says, turning toward the door.

  Pulling a hoodie over my head and not bothering with a bra, I yell, “Derek! Wait! Is she okay? I'll come with you!”

  “I’ll be fine. Just stay here. I'll call you later,” he says shortly. Goosebumps prick over every inch of my skin at his rejection. Is he really pushing me away right now? He knows I know how close he and his mom are. If she’s not okay, I want to be there.

  “Let me come with you. Let me be there for you,” I beg him while grabbing a pair of socks.

  “Emma, I don't fucking have time for this! Stay here. I'll talk to you later,” he yells as he storms out of the room. I can’t believe him. I know he’s hurting right now, but he can’t just push me away like this. He knows as well as I do that he needs someone. I need someone too.

  He’s not emotionally stable right now; he’s not going to be able to handle this. He’s hurting, and he needs someone. Everything in me is telling me that he’s going to need me. I run after him, banging the door against the wall and chasing him down the stairs.

  The front door slams before I’m able to get to him. I stare at it, my mouth open and lungs barely functioning.

  After a moment, my body starts trembling. I always listen to him. I never tell him no. And that’s my fault. It’s going to ruin me. But listening to him right now is going to ruin us. I can’t let it happen. I know it with everything in me.

  I head back upstairs to put my sneakers on. I'm not going to listen to him this time. Fuck that. Something’s wrong, and he needs me.

  I grab my phone to text Sandra to see if she knows what's going on. Hopefully, Tony told her about whatever’s going on with his mom.

  I slow my steps, my heart pausing. His mom. I shake my head, my throat closing as I think about seeing her yesterday. No, she’s going to be okay. I swallow the spiked lump that’s suffocating me and ignore it. Brushing the tears from my eyes I throw my hair up into a bun, grab my wristlet and my keys then head downstairs.

  I'm checking my phone what seems like every thirty seconds. For Sandra, for Derek. I just want to know what’s going on. I stifle the emotions threatening to cripple me. I focus on my breathing and on Derek snapping at me like that.

  The anger comes back and it’s easy for me to ignore the pain.

  I can't believe he expects me to just sit back and let him handle this on his own. He can't just push me aside and take on something like this alone.

  I climb in my car, the freezing cold sending a chill down my spine, turning my breath to fog in front of my face, and my phone dings. Sandra finally texted me back. I turn the key, bringing my car to life before checking her text.

  My mouth goes dry and my heart stops when I read her message, my entire body feeling like ice; Derek’s mom died.

  Chapter 16

  Derek

  My eyes fucking hurt from crying. I wish I could make it stop, but I can’t. She can’t be gone. I just saw her this morning. I just talked to her before I went to Emma’s.

  I press my palms to my eyes, hating the bitch tears.

  I knew she was going to leave me soon, but I didn’t want to believe it. Nothing could prepare me for this. There’s an emptiness inside my chest that I don’t think will ever be filled. And if it is, I don’t want to live to see that day.

  Tony’s in the corner of the room with red-rimmed eyes. His nose is red, too. He has a box of tissues that’s half gone. The rest are crumpled up in the trashcan.

  It’s just the two of us; Ma’s not here anymore.

  They pronounced her dead and took her away. They said she died in her sleep.

  I stand up and walk to the window of the dining room, looking out at the snow. It’s going to be cold when we bury her. I guess that’s the way it should be.

  I take in a ragged breath. Emma’s been helping me. She’s been preparing me. It’s different for her since it’s not her mother. But she has a softness about her. A way that she eases reason into me. I didn’t want to let go of Ma.

  But I knew it was coming. Everyone knew what was coming. I wish I could’ve fought it for her. I wish I could’ve traded places with her. My heart clenches in my chest and another sob threatens to go through me, but I shut it down.

  The cops and ambulance just left. It’s funny how people look at you when your mother’s gone. No one’s looked at me like that since high school. Maybe even since before then. Maybe since middle school when I’d show up with bruises on my arms from when Pops used to beat me. Maybe it’s really been that long since someone has looked at me with such sympathy in their eyes.

  I can’t take it.

  I don’t want to see that look in Emma’s eyes. I don’t want her here. I don’t want her to see me like this. There’s an anger brewing inside me, threatening to come out. What’s worse is that I want it. I want to unleash. I don’t want to feel anything but that rage. It'd be so much better than feeling everything else. If I could feel nothing, I’d much rather that. But I’ll settle on the anger for now.

  “She begged me.” Tony’s words pull my focus from the snow falling outside and bring me back to him. I turn to look at him, trying to make sense of what he just said. He’s not looking at me. He’s hunched forward in his seat. He’s still crying. He’s still fucked up.

  “She knew you wouldn’t,” he says in a jagged voice. His words slowly hit me. I stand still next to the cold window. The air has a hint of the freezing chill that gently blows against my skin. It keeps me frozen in place as I watch him.

  “She could feel herself slipping. She didn’t want you to see her like that. She was ready.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask him, feeling breathless and lightheaded. It’s like I’m not really here. Like I’m just watching this scene unfold.

  “She didn’t want me to tell you. But I can’t hide it from you.”

  No. My head’s shaking on its own,
denying what he’s telling me.

  “She asked for the shot, and I gave it to her. I waited until she was asleep. I’m sorry, Derek,” his voice cracks as he wipes the tears from under his eyes.

  He continues to cry, looking up at me, waiting for my reaction. Waiting for my forgiveness, maybe? For understanding?

  I stare at him, looking so dejected in that chair. Letting the words sink into every vein. Letting them flow through my blood.

  My body moves before I’m conscious of it. My boots smack against the floor as my hand balls into a fist. My knuckles crack against his jaw before I even know what’s going on.

  He falls to the floor without even trying to defend himself, but that doesn’t keep me from getting on top of him. My hand wraps around his throat, but I’m not fast enough. His fist slams against my nose, cracking against bone. The pain radiates to my temples, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

  It hardly affects me. The disbelief of what he’s done, the betrayal of what he’s telling me, is all-consuming. Rage burns deep inside of me.

  I don’t waste any time slamming my fist into him again, planting a hard blow against his high cheekbone. He’s just as quick. His legs grip my waist, wrapping around me and pushing me down to the ground as he rolls over. He tries to pin my hands down to keep me from knocking the shit out of him, but I’m too strong for him.

  I elbow the fucker in the face as he tries to tell me to calm down. I can hardly hear the words he’s screaming at me. Only white noise is ringing loudly in my ears. Blinding white light flashes before my eyes, and then it all turns red. My knuckles scream with pain over and over and over as they slam into his face. He’s holding on, taking each blow. He’s fighting me back though.

  I pour all of my emotion into each hit. I try to move my legs up to get a grip on him, but his thighs are holding me down, pinning me to the floor. He can’t get a grip on my wrists though; he’s trying, but all it’s doing is giving me access to his face. I continue the punches, one after the other. My knuckles split from the impact, the pain shooting through me.

  “You bastard!” I scream, finally finding my voice. I yell so loud it hurts, the words scraping against my throat as they leave me. I cling to the anger giving me so much strength; the full realization of what he said is hitting me so hard that I feel like I can’t hold on. “You killed her!” I yell. I can’t take it.

  I struggle against him, and get away from his hold for just a moment. It’s long enough for me to pound my fist into his shoulder. I want his throat though. I want to kill him. “I can’t fucking believe you!” I don’t know how I’m even capable of speaking. The words are flying out of my mouth without my conscious consent. My fist slams against Tony’s jaw again. This time I hear bone crunch.

  He took her away from me. I’ll make him pay. He deserves to die.

  “She wasn’t okay!” he screams back at me. “She couldn’t live like that!” I ignore everything that he screams at me. Every word uttered from his lips is the word of a liar, of a murderer. Not that I didn’t already know that, because we’ve killed plenty, but my Ma is different. It’s unforgivable.

  His face is so close to mine. The heat is overwhelming. My body’s shaking. Adrenaline is coursing so fast through my blood. It feels as if I can’t control myself. As he grabs my left wrist, pinning it down, I smash my right fist into his throat. His hands instinctively reach for his neck, finally letting me up. I push him off of me, shoving my fist into his chest. He falls backward, landing hard on the ground. I’m quick to move and slam my knee into his thigh, pinning his body down and preventing him from getting away. I go for his throat with both hands, squeezing as hard as I can, and he goes for mine.

  I struggle to breathe. His hands push into the soft spot just below my Adam’s apple. His nails scrape and cut the back of my neck as he chokes me.

  His face turns a bright red, swelling from the pressure I’m putting against his own throat, from the lack of oxygen. My body screams to let go of him. It begs me to try to pry his hands off of my throat. But I’d rather die than give up. I want to see the life drained from him. My heart clenches in my chest, pain radiating through every part of me. My body tingles with heated anger. Why him? Why’d he have to do it? Tony is the only friend I've ever had.

  “I hate you.” I can’t get the words out. I can’t get them all out. But I got out what matters. Sadness flashes in his eyes as he hears my words, and a sick part of me actually feels pain for him. A part of me wants to forget this happened. Another part of me wishes he’d never told me. Why won’t the world just lie to me?

  My lungs feel so empty. My head feels so light. The force of my hold on him slowly wanes as strength leaves me, my body shaking with a need to let go, the need to free myself from the force choking the life out of me.

  “Derek!” I hear Sandra scream as she runs toward us.

  “Get off him!” Sandra wails as she runs to us. A vision of her blurs as her fist slams against my face, whipping my neck to the side. Her nails scratch at my fingers, desperate to pull them away from Tony’s throat.

  “Stop it!” Her high-pitched screech nearly burst my eardrums.

  She pushes all of her weight onto my chest, pushing Tony away from me and out of my reach. She struggles for a moment. But I have nothing left in me. He falls backward, away from me and out of my hold. My lungs heave in a breath at the first chance. I roll onto my side, coughing and struggling for air. My eyes burn, my body trembles.

  After a few moments, I try to pick myself up. I look up at Tony. The man I grew up with. My best friend. The man who murdered my mother.

  “I’ll never forgive you for this,” I tell him in a raspy voice, the moment I have the breath.

  The hurt that was in his eyes earlier isn’t there now. It’s been completely replaced with anger. “I knew you wouldn’t forgive me.” His confession surprises me.

  He holds my gaze as he says, “It wasn’t about me and you. It was about her.”

  Chapter 17

  Emma

  I feel like the drive to Derek’s is taking forever. My hands twist on the steering wheel as I steady my breath. I just want to be there to hold him. I wipe my eyes again as I turn onto his street, my chest feeling tight. I really need to pull myself together and be strong for him, but I keep thinking about her. His mom was such a sweet woman. My heart aches for him… and for me. I had to pull over to get out the tears, but they keep coming back. I thought I was prepared, but I think I was only preparing him.

  I struggle to breathe in as I stop at the last red light. I swear I’ve hit everyone. I sit back in the seat. The intersection is devoid of anyone. Just darkness this late at night.

  I wish Derek hadn’t pushed me away. I don’t think I’ll be able to take it if he tells me to leave when I get there. I hit the gas slowly as the light turns green. I won’t be able to take it. I want to comfort him and be there for him, but I’m not okay either. I need someone too.

  I pull into Derek’s driveway, the car only just now starting to heat up. My body is trembling from a mix of the cold and my nerves.

  I practically run up the stone path to the front door, but when I get there I pause. Please don’t push me away Derek. Please. I need you too. It’s unlocked, so I go right in. I don’t even hesitate. My breathing comes in heavy, my lungs hurting from the sharp cold air.

  I run down the hallway and straight for his mom’s room. My heart's beating so fast; I’m still wishing it’s not true. I still expect to find her there. It’s foolish, but I can’t help denying the truth of the simple text message.

  But she’s not there. Neither is Derek.

  Her bed’s empty, and the medical equipment is turned off. It’s so quiet, so surreal. She was just in here, talking to me like nothing was wrong. I close my eyes remembering how she told me to take care of him. I didn’t think much of it, but as I hear her voice I can see she was saying good bye. The last words she told me. I cover my mouth and hold in the sob as I lean against the wa
ll. I will. I promise I will.

  A moment passes, my body heating with the agony of her loss as I struggle to right myself.

  I’m a fucking mess, but I’ll be there for him. That’s all I need to do. I take one last look around the blush-colored bedroom and walk back into the hall. I can’t close the door. Something in me just wants to leave it open. I can’t shut it.

  I look over my shoulder for one final glance into the room as I walk away and down the hall. I almost call out for Derek, but then I hear a sound in the living room. I can’t place what the noise is. But it draws me to him. A moth to flame.

  It’s so quiet. It’s ominous. I walk into the dark room and whisper his name. He’s sitting in the dark. I can just barely make him out. He's leaning forward in the white armchair with his head in his hands.

  My heart breaks for him. I don’t wait for him to look up; I go straight to him and wrap my arms tightly around him. He doesn’t even say anything as he wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face in my shoulder.

  I hold him for a long time, running my hands up and down his back and kissing the top of his head. His face is wet. He’s obviously been crying. I can’t take it. I don’t want to ever see him in pain like this.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper without thinking. It’s not really. And I can’t make it okay. I wish I could take it back. If only words were a physical thing, and I could rip them from the air before they reached his ears. My heart clenches in my chest as he shakes his head slightly, not responding.

  “Thank you,” he says after a few minutes. His voice is raw.

  He quickly wipes around his eyes before picking his head up to look at me. My heart stops in my chest. Holy fuck! His left eye is almost swollen shut. My breath comes up short, and I don’t know how to react.

  What the fuck happened?