by M J Knight
"I got the body right when I got home from my first tour. I didn't get started working on her until I got discharged after being hurt. She has looked like this for about two years." He reaches into the console and pulls out some cinnamon gum. His smell is starting to make more sense.
"Well, you did a fantastic job..." I'm fumbling for small talk. I've never been big on it anyway. I was "encouraged" to stay silent for the most part with Robert. I'm still relearning normal human interaction. I feel the deep rumble of the engine when he cranks his baby up. It feels damn good. Almost like a massage. He put a lot of time in this car. He must have a ton of patience.
He turns his body towards me, and even though I'm trying to avoid eye contact, I find myself trapped in his stare. "Want to tell me about what happened? You don't have to, but if you want to... need to. I'm here. I'll stay quiet and just listen." How do I answer that? I've been trying to hide from the truth since the first time I got hit. Even after I got my revenge, I decided to act harsh and cold, but really, I've just been hiding from the memories. I mean, don't get me wrong... I'm not scared of him anymore, but I am afraid of being trapped in my head with my thoughts. It's easier just to pretend the last 6 years didn't happen.
Losing Momma and running from everything right into the arms of a monster. I just want to forget everything. I guess I can't live like that, though. That's how I ended up trying to rip Clint's fingers off. Time to talk to someone. At least this is free. I tried the shrink after Mom, and all that did was make me angry at the world. Angry at myself. Being a teenager with big feelings is hard as fuck, and we do ridiculous irresponsible teenage stuff. Oh well, here we go, let's unpack some baggage on a clueless sexy guy since I'm all about doing stupid shit.
Chapter Seven: Clint
She looks so damn sad. I just want to make her feel better. She is literally breaking my heart. I know better than most how it feels to suffer in silence. Scared to say anything. Not wanting to be the freak with PTSD. Hoping it will just go away on its own and fucking up your life in the process, but I can't make it better for her. She has to want help. What can I say- darkness recognizes darkness…
Her shoulders hang down, she turns her head towards the window and starts drawing circles on her long legs with her fingernails. "Well, since I've never talked about this, I don't know where to start." I just want to touch her. To smell her again. She was like the air after a good rain. Fresh and new, but also like hot asphalt after the storm. Steamy and warm. She is a walking contradiction. Hard on the outside but torn apart and hurt on the inside.
I didn't mean to scare her. She was standing at Fletcher's SUV, and next thing I knew, she had grabbed my fingers off her shoulder and bent them until they popped. I was mad from the pain at first. Then I looked down and saw her wrapped around herself on the ground, and my heart was in my throat. I've been there. I recognized her glazed over vacant eyes. I’ve seen it before in myself reflected in the mirror. Man, I feel like shit for putting her in this position.
"Start from the beginning then. Everything has a beginning." Nodding her head and pushing her shoulders back, strengthening herself for memories she doesn't want.
"Well, everyone knows the start. Mom laid down for a nap and never woke up. I was there holding her when she started gasping for breath. I only saw her eyes open one more time, when the EMT pulled them open to check. That's how I'll always remember my mom. Laying in my arms, dying. We had the funeral, and the next thing I know, I was learning what life was really like. People I never knew showing up at our house. Things were happening. I just didn't understand,” she pauses and takes a few deep breaths.
“I didn't want the confusion and stress that was pushed on me. So, I did what I do best. I ran. I met a man named Robert. He was 17 years older than me and he promised me the world. I was so desperate for happiness that I believed everything he said. Never even questioned it. Pathetic, right?” She sighs heavily.
“It was okay for a little bit. He wasn't perfect, but we had a good time. Then one day, he snapped at me for leaving hair in the bathtub. I thought he was just having a bad day. Then there was the screaming for not having his breakfast ready when he woke up. I found his secret cell phone. Tons of messages from young girls like me. He promised them the same things that he did to me. Love and friendship. He went crazy when I confronted him. He pushed me into the dresser and screamed in my face. I still remember the knobs pushing into my back. When he let me go, I ran for the phone. He jerked the cord from the wall and threw it across the room. I didn't know what to do, so I just started crying and begging. It made him even angrier. He locked me in the closet for 4 hours. Only to be pulled out and kicked in the stomach and chest repeatedly. Never the face though. He didn't want any obvious visible evidence of his crimes.” She starts to shrink away again.
“It just got worse. Not every day, but every few days he would go off about something. I was scared to even talk or look him in the eye. It got to the point he would leave me for over forty-eight hours with no food or drinks. I wouldn't have my car or a phone. If I tried to tell anyone, he would make me look crazy and lie about everything. He had his friends believing I was the cheater and insane. The last time I tried to reach out for help, he beat me so bad I had broken ribs and fingers. He dragged me to the closet by my hair just to lock me away for 12 hours as punishment.”
I can see the ghosts of the memories playing behind her eyes now. “I soon found out he was doing hardcore drugs and drinking. Bribing women to sleep with him in trade for drugs. If he couldn't get a woman to sleep with him, he would come for me. I knew better than to fight back. I would just get the shit kicked out of me and it hurts to get fucked with a broken rib. Finally, one day he came home after being gone for days, strung out on meth. He wanted a blowjob or quick fuck. He fell on the bed, and his eyes rolled back in his head, and I lost it. I've never felt like that before. I just wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to feel just a portion of what he did to me. I needed him to suffer.”
She’s starting to shake a little as she continues, “I found a rod and beat him. I can still feel the wood in my hands. I know what it means to white knuckle something now. After he was bloody and covered in bruises, I grabbed the handful of clothes that I was allowed and took off in my car. That's how I ended up here a few months back. I've been dealing with stuff and getting my head together before meeting the Family. I didn't want to be known as Old Man's fucked up daughter. Little late now, though. I'm sure the guys will tell their parents."
Her head is down, her hands clasped. Little wispy breaths escape her throat, and I feel so much rage. I want to hunt the fucker down and skin him alive. No real man hits on a woman. Only cowards do fuck-boy shit like that. I want to reach for her, comfort her, but I don't want to scare her again. How could anyone look at this beautiful creature and want to snuff out the light coming from her? She is stronger than she gives herself credit for. She didn't just leave the fucktard. She left her mark on him as well. I would be willing to bet he has some scars to remind him of what he lost. More than that, she survived. It takes strength to make it out of a war alive, and that's precisely what she was in.
I clear my throat, hoping she will look at me. When those gold-flecked eyes reach mine, my throat goes dry. Moisture building up in the corners make them sparkle even more. I want nothing more than to protect and comfort her. "You are a fighter. Look how much you have overcome. Please don’t give up now.” I take a steadying breath, “Can I hug you? If you're not comfortable, I understand." She gives me the sweetest grin and lunges across the gear shifter to wrap her colorful arms around my waist. Her electric blue hair brushing my jaw. I feel the heavy breaths leaving her body in a shudder.
That smell of rain hits me, and I make the decision right then, I'm going to be getting awfully familiar with this little spitfire.
Chapter Eight: Holder
Fuck... That was intense. I mean, the girl annoys the shit out of me, but that was hard to watch. What happens to a person to brin
g them that much fear? I have seen it in grown men before. When I was standing over their bodies, but those are bad men. Killers and rapists. Even if she is a brat, she doesn't deserve that. I hope Clint is okay with her. He has gone through his own shit. Who knows maybe they will be right for each other? It's not like she would want my help. I thoroughly pissed her off with my smart-ass remarks. My face is still throbbing. That girl has bigger balls than most men I know. She might just make it in this kind of life.
The other guys are lost in thought also. I can already tell Cole and Fletcher have a thing for the Blue Demon. I hope this doesn't mess up our plans. We have been groomed to take over since we could walk. Having the new girl fuck us up now doesn't work for me. I'm tired of being under the fathers’ thumbs. I'm ready to rule.
"Do y'all think Clint can handle this? It hasn’t been long since he was the one on the ground crying." Cole looks like he could turn someone inside out, but he really is a good guy.
"He'll be fine. She was already calming down when they left. We have work to do anyway." Fletcher, still driving, fingers clench the steering wheel.
"We have work, but she is also our job. You already fucked it up. I just hope Clint can fix this. I don't want to be on Old Man's radar for hurting his little girl."
I’ve heard the stories of what that crazy old bastard likes to do to his enemies. It's not pretty. I have a feeling that, for Ayida, he would burn down the city. It's not like he has a lot left to live for. Better to keep the princess happy and stay on Old Man's good side. I guess I’ll be learning to hold my tongue better. I still wouldn’t mind using it on her, though. Even if she is bat shit crazy, she is hot as hell. I feel all the blood rush to my dick, just thinking about her beautiful angry face.
“What ya thinking about there, Hold?” Fletch’s mischievous eyes are on my crotch. Damn it. Caught tented in the front seat.
“Just an after-effect hard-on from getting hit. You know I like it rough.” He laughs, but I can tell he doesn’t believe that. Everyone knows I love my kink, but it would take more than a little slap to get me going. I don’t mind being in control, but sometimes it’s nice to let the reins go and let someone else be in charge.
“Sure, man. I get it. She is gorgeous. I doubt Old Man wants her to get messed up with us even if she is learning the business. He probably wants her with a nice guy that can be easily managed. You can look at her and tell she has had one too many assholes telling her what to do.” He isn’t wrong; she has been through some shit. That’s obvious, but I think Clint or Cole, hell, even Fletcher would be good for her. Not me, though. I’m too rough around the edges, and even if I like to be submissive in the bedroom, in real life, I have to be in control. It’s the only way to make sure everything gets done, and everyone stays alive. She’s had enough trauma in her life without me messing her up even more. She sure is beautiful, though.
“Dude, we all know you like her. You have to stop sabotaging yourself. You don’t have to be a jerkoff to everyone. You can have friends and more. She needs friends, and you are a good one to have when your head isn’t stuck up your ass.” I can feel Cole’s hard stare from the backseat. He doesn’t understand how hard it is. He is friendly, and people automatically feel at ease with him. He smiles, and women fall over themselves to be near him. I can’t blame them. He has that sweet, but “bad boy” look. I know what really happens. I let myself get close to someone, they find out what I’ve done… what I do… they see the darkness in me and run like the devil himself is chasing them.
After the years of chasing relationships, I’m finally okay with one-night stands and meaningless meetups. My brothers are the only people I need in my life. They talk a big game, but they haven’t had real relationships in years either. The difference between them and me, I like what I do, and then I feel bad about wanting it. Why am I so fucked in the head? Did my fucked-up parents mess me up, too? I’ve never told anyone how I feel about what I do. The guys have different feelings about the jobs we do. They never volunteer for the dirty work. They don’t mind the white-collar crime. Hell, they like kicking the shit out of any woman-beater that is brought to the Family’s attention, but that is about their limit to violence. My shadows run darker.
Maybe one day I’ll find another fucked up soul. For now, I’m good at keeping my distance and having my fun.
“All in your head again, huh? Let's just get done with today and see what we can get into tonight. “Fletcher will always be a college boy at heart. It's one of the reasons we simultaneously love and loathe him.
“Are we talking about a party or club? Do you think Clint would want to come after today? He might just want to chill at his place.” Cole might have the bad boy look, but he really is just a nerd that likes to stay home and play on his Xbox or master a new hobby. The man is a kick-ass cook after his year-long obsession with all things Bobby Flay. I think he's trying out sculpting now. He succeeds in everything he does. I’m not jealous, I’m proud.
I feel like we push each other, and that makes us better in different ways. We work best as a group. Cole is our nerdy-nice guy, Fletcher is the fun-outgoing guy, Clint is the big brother with an even bigger heart. Then there’s me. The fucked-up sadist and masochist rolled up in one. I’m the lucky one. I have these guys to keep me from spiraling. They help balance me out.
“Let’s see if he wants to have a little get together at his place so we can all unwind.” Fletcher says, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
Let the party begin.
Chapter Nine: Cole
Why the fuck do we have to do anything tonight? Clint probably just wants to be left alone and get his head straight. Sitting at my desk moving numbers around on the screen of my computer, I'm bored as hell and want to go play the new Call of Duty. Holder, sitting across from me with his feet thrown up and eyes closed, is getting on my last damn nerve. How can he be so cool after everything that happened today? That poor girl is messed up and he acted like it was no big deal. "You think Ayida is okay? I hope Clint got her home." I get a grunt in response. I swear to God I'm going to flip his feet over his fucking head…
"Hey. Douchebag. Remember our talk in the car? Pull your head out of your ass. She has been hurt. I know we are used to hurting bad guys, but have you become so numb that it didn't bother you when that girl was so scared, she turned into a feral animal?" He swings his legs down, straightens up with a stretch and a yawn.
"It's none of my business and you need to stay out of it too. I'm not about to get our positions messed up by a pair of long legs. She is just another girl. She'll run away again before long." He gives me a hard look before getting up and leaving my office. I want to throw my keyboard at his retreating head. I don't know what has happened to my friend, my brother, but he wasn't always like this. He used to care.
Ugh… I'll worry about him later. I have other things to concentrate on. I have to get done with these spreadsheets and try to convince Fletcher it's not a good idea to go to Clint's. I would like to go check on Ayida though. I might run by Old Man's after work and make sure we didn't do any lasting damage. I know she saw my shock when she came back from her black out. I don't want her to think we don't like her just because she has demons. We all carry those around. At least I have my friends to help carry mine. She probably doesn't have anyone. I'm sure Clint is making her feel welcome, but I want to help her, too.
I haven't been through anything like Clint has, but I do have my share of trauma. I use flirting as a coping mechanism. I always have girls trying to get me to settle down. So, I flirt a little and then get the hell out of dodge. That way I don't hurt anyone's feelings because I'm not committed. I haven't met the right girl to chill with long term. Flirting is one thing but bringing her home to see my video games and DnD collection is a totally different story. Girls see the tattoos and piercings and think I'm some badass gangster. I can beat the fuck out of someone- no problem. You can't be as big as I am and be a pussy, but I don't like fighting though. I would way rather cook or
be on my gaming system.
I'm not like Clint. I can't walk her through her issues with PTSD, but I can be there for support. Better hurry up and get done then.
It's right at four when I finish up and start getting ready to leave work. I hear a knock at the door and Fletcher is pushing in before I can say come in. "You ready? Holder has to work at the warehouse tonight. So, we don't have to wait on him."
What can I tell him to get out of his party? He isn't one to take no for an answer. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'm gonna skip and go home. Maybe check in on Ayida on the way. It's been a long day."
I don't miss the quirk to his lips when he says, "Oh? You haven't heard? Ayida is at Clint's. So, if you want to check on her, you'll be going to Clint's anyway."
Fuck it… I'll go and check on her and then head straight home. I get up, stretch and start to leave my desk when I remember what Fletcher said about Holder. "What's Holder doing at the warehouse this late?" Shrugging his shoulders, he leans against the door frame. He looks just like one of the Hollister models, even at almost 30.
"Someone broke in two nights in a row. They fucked up our guys, but didn't steal anything, and you know Holder. If he wants it done right, he'll do it himself." That is curious, but I'm not wasting my Friday night at the warehouse.
We get in his SUV and start the hour-long drive west. It's boring and tedious, but it's worth it. Nothing but trees and more trees for miles. When we pull up to his iron gate you can see the beautiful rolling hills and the old plantation house. Lots of land to ride four-wheelers and horses, and there are ponds for fishing. It's a man's paradise.
