I look down at my watch and back at Carter. “He should be here by now,” I grumble, nervously looking at the door for the millionth time.
“He’ll be here,” he shrugs, swiveling his chair from side to side. “So, how’s things with Tara? How has she been?” I can tell he’s asking to distract me.
“Fine,” I mumble, checking my watch and the time on the wall clock. They say the same time, so why the fuck isn’t he here already. I push my chair back heavily and storm over to the drinks cabinet and pour myself a shot of bourbon. I throw back the liquid. The burning sensation hits the back of my throat and I close my eyes as I savor the numbness it leaves behind.
“Fine?” he asks with a tone of annoyance. “Just fine?” I can feel his gaze burning a hole in my back. I turn on the spot, resting my ass on the cabinet.
“Yeah, just fine,” I say with a shrug. “Obviously, a little shook up, but she’s coping with it really well. I think the company has helped.” I smirk at him, pressing my crossed arms against my chest.
“Must be that you’re a barrel of laughs, hey, man,” he teases and I can’t help but laugh a little.
“Must be,” I reply with a lift of my brow. The sudden sound of knocking on the door sets me on high alert.
“Come in,” Carter instructs. “And for the love of fucking Christ, sit down will you,” he whispers to me. I dart back to my seat, my eyes fixed firmly on the door as I watch Detective Hanson enter.
“About fucking time,” I grate out, my harsh gaze fixed on him.
“I’m so sorry. My last appointment ran over. I can only apologize,” he says, holding out his hand to me.
“Sit down,” I demand, “handshaking comes when I know you’ve been doing your job. You know, the one I’ve been paying you for,” I snap, but the asshole just nods and scuttles into the seat beside me.
“I, uh, I have to be honest and say I’m surprised,” he stutters, clearly nervous. “After years of searching, I didn’t think anything would ever turn up, but I’m happy to say that it has.” He gently bangs his hand on the table before reaching into his briefcase, pulls out a photograph and hands it to me. I take it from him and look at the old, dilapidated shed positioned in dense woodland.
“This is where Isabelle has been for the last six or so years,” he continues, handing me yet another photograph. “And this is her father.” I study the photo. They look just like the sort of photograph that police investigators would take at the scene of a crime. I examine the photo before passing it to Carter.
“So, what? He’s dead?” I ask as he passes me a whole file of photos.
“He is. Natural causes, so no cause for alarm there. But what is interesting is that we found where he’d been keeping her. Within the cabin there was a room. A room that had nail marks on the inside. There is evidence to suggest that she was held hostage there.”
“So, where is she?”
“No one knows,” he says tentatively, his voice lowered and almost as if he is scared to tell me. “We know she wasn’t there at the time when his body was discovered, but we also have reason to believe it was Isabelle who made the call about his death.”
I look at Carter through narrowed eyes. “Wait, so she called the police?”
“The police believe she did,” he replies with a nod.
“So, why don’t we know where she is?”
A thousand questions run through my mind. So many things I need to know. I’ve waited years for news like this.
“Other than the phone call, no-one has seen or heard from her. They traced the phone call to an unregistered cell phone.”
“A cell phone?” I repeat. “How would she have had access to a cell phone? This makes zero fucking sense to me.” I tap my leg as the anxiety grows inside. She’s alive, or at least possibly. I feel like I’ve been given a glimmer of hope only to have it snatched away again.
“I don’t know, but I am continually working to find out more information. I feel like this is a good lead, Brax. This proves that Isabelle is alive. It’s just a matter of time before we work out where she is.”
“It proves she was alive,” I snap. “God only fucking knows where she is now.” I scrape my hands across my face, letting out a huge sigh.
“It’s early days, Brax. It’s new information and I’m sure Detective Hanson will pursue all leads.” Carter leans forward resting his chin on his clutched hands.
“Absolutely. My contacts at the police department will keep me involved in all developments. I’m also looking into the phone number to see if I can track the location or where it was purchased. I think we should feel very positive.” I look at the skinny guy beside me, glasses resting on the tip of his crooked nose as he looks over them at me. Somehow the future of finding Isabelle rests with this guy.
“I need you to up the fucking game. Too long I’ve waited for this chance to find her. I need you to widen the search, hire more investigators,” I say, feeling the heat inside me intensify. “I’ll pay, I don’t care how much. I just need you to do whatever it takes to get her back.”
“I understand,” he says, stepping up from his seat and holding out his hand to me once more. I follow his lead, standing and taking his hand. I squeeze a little as I shake his hand slowly. I watch as his face reddens as I intensify my grip.
“Don’t let me down,” I say with a glare.
“I won’t,” he says tentatively, trying to retract his hand, but I hold it there. “I mean it,” I say, lowering my voice. “Don’t mess this up!”
“I will do everything I can,” he says, finally managing to snatch his hand away. He darts a look at Carter before turning and racing out of the room.
“Fuck,” Carter sighs, “I think your intimidation tactic really worked on Detective Hanson.” A small chuckle escapes him, but nothing about this is funny to me. This is the start of the rest of my life. A life I could have with the one person who means everything to me. Isabelle is my person. The other part of me and what she left behind is a shell of the person I was before.
“Fucking years I’ve been holding onto the hope we would find her. It’s the only thing that’s kept me going. It’s about time these fuckers found her. Dammit, Carter, we are paying them enough.”
“It’s only money and we’ll pay until we know the truth. I’m on your side here, Brax. I know what you’ve been through since that day, and fuck, you’ve barely held it together. I’ve tried for years to be that guy, that best friend that could bring you out of the emotional coma you’ve been in for so long. But I realized that I’m not the one that can do that. She is. So, believe me when I say that I’m fucking determined to find her for you.”
“Who’d have thought; Carter fucking Mellano has a heart.”
“Well fuck, don’t get carried away. You know that my heart died a long time ago.” He blows out an exaggerated laugh.
“You and me both,” I say, making my way over to the door.
“Hey, before you go,” Carter calls out, stopping me in my tracks. “I wanted to let you know that I’m sending one of the guys to scope out Alvrez. We need to get some idea of what will go down at the meeting. I can’t afford for this deal to fuck up.”
“We have plenty of other suppliers. What’s the real deal with this guy?” I ask, narrowing my eyes on him. I walk back over to his where he is, leaning forward and resting my palms against the cool wooden table.
“The price, man. It’s good shit and we’re set to make some real fucking money. Not to mention that I have the MC’s on my back. They are still fucking pissed about the disappearance of their guy. It’s only because they have no proof that they haven’t started a fucking war over this. But make no mistake, they are suspicious. Really fucking suspicious,” he repeats. I watch as he reaches forward, grabbing a tissue and dabs his brow.
“No proof, nothing they can do. They can be suspicious all they want, but they can’t do jack shit.”
“They’re lucky that I didn’t have my guys finish them all off. Fucking cocksuckers come on my turf and lay their greasy fucking fingers on my cousin. You did the right thing, Brax. Thank you for taking care of her.”
“I just did what I had to do,” I say with a small lift of my shoulders.
“Just promise me one thing,” Carter dips his head until his face is right in front of mine. “Don’t rule her out, man. Tara could be so good for you.”
“Why,” I sigh, “why would you want your precious cousin to be with a fucked up asshole like me.”
“Because she’s family and that would ultimately make you family too. Brax, I’ve been saying for so long that I want you to work by my side. Not just running things with me, but as my brother,”
“I dunno, man,” I grate out. “Do you think I would have taken this path if things had turned out differently? No fucking way. I never wanted to be a part of this world, dealing drugs and killing people…”
“So, you would rather I left you. Left you to rot with those sick fuckers that killed Travis? Uh?” he spits his words at me with venom and I see the anger in his narrowed eyes. “Sometimes I don’t think you’re grateful for what I’ve done for you, Brax,’ he exhales loudly.
“Don’t turn this into a game of emotional manipulation, Carter. You know how fucking grateful I am that we’re friends, that you saved me that day. But that, or you, can never replace the things I’ve lost.”
“You,” he points his finger at me, slowly stepping closer, “you have enjoyed wallowing in it since that fucking day.”
I rear back my clenched fist and swing for the bastard. As if it’s happening in slow motion, his head falls to the side and his hand finds his lip, the blood staining his fingers.
“How fucking dare you,” I roar, charging for him. Grabbing a handful of his shirt, pulling him so close our noses nearly touch. “I relive that moment, over and over. It tortures me every single fucking day. I have died a million times over since the day I lost everything. Everything!” I roar, loosening my grip and taking slow steps back. “If you can’t get that, if you think you can fucking mock me, then good luck to you. I’m outta here.” I turn on my heel and storm toward the door.
Fuck him, fuck this life.
“Stop,” he yells. “Man, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you will be,” I say, glancing at him one last time before I race out of there. I owe him nothing. I repaid my debt to him a million times over. He needs me right now, much more than I need him.
Jumping on my bike, I race away from his place and to somewhere I’ve avoided, but somewhere I’ve wanted to go for a long time.
I drive the short distance, slowing my speed as I turn the corner and drive through the rusty metal gates. Just entering this place is like a knife to my stomach. The pain of that day comes crashing back to me like a motherfucking tidal wave. I pull in my brows as the pain sears through me, the human part of my genetic makeup I can’t seem to control. Tears swell in my eyes and I hastily reach up to wipe those fuckers away.
Be brave, they all said. Be a man, they all said.
No one ever really understanding what happened, or what we went through the day I lost Travis.
Travis Gordon; the nerd with a big heart.
My best friend.
I stop the bike, dismounting and walk to his resting place. I can’t control the wavering of my lip or the weakening of my legs as I make it to his headstone. Collapsing on to the ground a sob rages through me as do the memories of that day…
7 YEARS EARLIER
“Jesus, Brax, slow down, will you,” his whiny voice calls after me. But I can’t slow down. I can’t ever slow down. I have to find her. I have to know she’s okay.
“Come on, dammit,” I call back over my shoulder. Looking at how far behind he is now on the quiet country road, I’m not sure he can hear me. My nostrils flare with annoyance.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Travis, we don’t have time to stop,” I yell so loudly, the back of my throat stings like a bitch.
I watch as he pedals at a snail’s pace. I sigh heavily, throwing my bike down to the ground and charging toward him. When I finally meet him on his bike, I place my hands on his handlebars, and lean closer to him.
“Anyone would think you don’t want to find her, that you don’t care,” I spit at him and instantly feel guilty. His sad eyes flicker and his head drops.
“You know that’s not true,” he mumbles nervously. “I just don’t think you’ve thought out this rescue mission,” he says, lifting his head just a little, his blue eyes peering over the rim of his glasses. “Where are we going? Where is it you believe she is?” He fires his questions at me, and I swallow the lump in my throat. The truth is, I don’t know, but my heart is ruling this mission, not my mind.
“She’s with her father,” I state, kicking out my hip and adjusting my stance, “That much we do know.”
“But you have no idea where her father lives. Until today we didn’t even know that she was in touch with him. I never heard her talk of him, did you?”
“Hell, no,” I say in agreement. “But what do you want me to do, Travis? Turn back and forget all about her? Fuck, I love her, Travis, and if that makes me a fucking pussy, then I’m a pussy.”
“No way. You know I would never think that,” he says, dropping the bike to the ground and pulling me into a hug. He holds me there, patting my back for a few moments before gently stepping back.
“Let the police find her. I’m sure when they realize it’s all a big mistake, she will come back.”
“Yeah,” I say with a nod. “Maybe her mom got it all wrong. Izzy would never leave us, right?”
“You know, Brax,” he says, resting his arm across my shoulder. “Not all goodbyes are forever. I say bye to Mom every day, but I’m back, without fail every day after school.”
I can’t help but chuckle at the fucking douche’s analogy. But in a strange kind of way it makes sense.
“It’s going to kill me to be without her. Even if it is just temporarily,” I say, letting my head drop, my feet kicking up the soil beneath my feet. I push my hands into the pockets in my shorts as I fix my eyes on the ground.
The sudden, unexpected sound of Travis’ body falling to the ground snaps me from my daydream. I blink rapidly as the scene in front of me plays out like a movie in slow motion.
“Travis,” I cry out, dropping to the floor to hold him in my arms. “What the hell…” my voice fades as the blood pours from his shoulder.
“It stings,” he whispers, his hand reaching over his shoulder trying to locate the source of the bleeding. “Something got me.”
“What, like a mosquito?” I snap. “Fuck, Travis, there’s a shitload of blood.”
“What is it?” his voice wavers, his head turned and his eyes trying to look over his blood covered shoulder.
I lift up the back of his shirt, blood pouring like a waterfall down his back. I narrow my brows and shake my head in frustration. “What the hell…” I repeat, struggling to find the words. I stand on my feet and remove my own t-shirt, tearing it into two. “Here, hold this.”
“Brax,” he gasps, “Your shirt, I know it’s your favorite.”
“No, you’re bleeding out, and you’re my favorite and right now you need it more than me,” I say with a fleeting smile, desperate to get back to the mystery wound. Lifting his shirt over his head, I notice a small hole in the black shirt. I hadn’t seen it because of the blood, but as I hold it up in front of me, I see it. A bullet hole.
Scrunching up the first half of my shirt I press it against the bullet hole in his shoulder. I grab his hand, placing it over the material. “Apply pressure,” I say, jumping to my feet. My eyes frantically search the area for signs of where the shot came from.
“We’ve got to go,” I say, placing my hand under his arm and pulling him up.
“What is it, Brax?” he asks, a look of horror etched on his face. The blood pouring from his wound is slowing.
Leaning in until my mouth is right next to his ear, I whisper, “Don’t panic, but I’m pretty sure it’s a gunshot wound. I think someone shot you. We have to get the fuck out of here.”
“You, you, can’t be right. There’s no way I could have been shot. There’s no one here,” he says, his voice loud and I instantly cover it with my hand.
“Shhh… Keep your voice down.” I say with wide eyes. “I don’t know what’s happening but we have to get out of here and get you to a hospital.”
“Use your cell phone. Call someone,” he orders, the panic in his voice is evident.
I pull out my cell, pressing the button to highlight the screen.
But nothing.
“Fuck,” I whisper shout, “Dead. Quick,” I say, pushing it back in my pocket and grabbing the handle of his bike. “Can you ride it?” I ask, lowering my head until my eyes meet his.
“I, uh, I don’t think so,” he stutters, letting out a hiss, “I can’t move it…”
“So, do it one-handed,” I snap. “We have to get out of here, like now.”
I help him back onto the bike, wrapping the spare part of my ripped shirt around his shoulder blade and tying it in a knot. “There,” I say, pressing on it and checking it’s in the right place. “That should hold. Now, wait here a second while I go fetch my bike,” I say, pointing back to where my bike is laid a few hundred feet down the road. I run, my feet pounding against the dusty road, constantly checking back over my shoulder. A thousand thoughts rage through my mind but mainly, it’s full of ‘what the fuck’. I have no idea what just happened. Finally reaching my bike, completely out of breath and gasping for air, I power through, nonetheless. I grab the handlebars and jump on, powering my feet against the pedals to get back to Travis as quickly as humanly possible. The handlebars sway from side to side as I use every ounce of energy and physical strength I have, to get us out of this fucked up mess. I drop my head, my whole body swaying from side to side. As soon as I’m closer, I lift my head, slowing a little as I struggle to keep going at that tremendous speed. As if someone pressed the pause button, I freeze at the sight of three men, one dragging Travis from his bike.
My heart pounds so loudly that it’s all I can hear. I see his mouth moving, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. It’s like my body is frozen in time. I want to move. I want to scream, but I’m scared. I’m scared I have no idea of what I’m walking into. I check over my shoulder and there’s nothing behind me. I should run, I should try to get help, but I’m so torn.
So damn torn.
Then something comes over me.
A rage like no other.
My whole body shakes, my adrenaline spiking as I can barely grip the handlebars. Sweat covers every inch of my body. Anger boils deep in my system as hot as lava. It churns within, hungry for destruction, and I know it's too much for me to handle. The pressure of this raging sea of anger will force me to do something I will live to regret.
I won’t let this happen.
I can’t let them do this to him.
I set off again, bolting toward the three men dragging his screaming body into the overgrown, dense woodlands that border the road.
“Stop,” I scream at the top of my lungs.
The three men do stop, look between each other and start to laugh. Like fuel to the fire, I drop the bike, allow my head to fall and run straight at them with every bit of energy in my body.
Clattering into the men, they all fall to the ground, but I’m the first up. I scan the pathetic pieces of shit laid on the floor, all look no older than twenty-five. Each one looked like the other. Dark curly hair, dark eyes and wide in stature. I start to kick the nearest guy to me in the stomach. His hunched body contracts every time my foot connects with his stomach.
Within seconds, the two other guys are on their feet, their heavy hands on my arms.
“Get the fuck off of me,” I yell, fighting them furiously trying to escape their grip.
“You motherfucker,” the guy on the ground spits at me as he cradles his stomach, struggling to get to his feet.
“Your little friend is going to pay for what you just did,” he snarls, his lip curling, as he smirks widely.
“You shot him,” I exclaim. “The fuck is wrong with you guys?”
The guy digs into the band of his faded jeans, pulling out his gun. He steps closer, one hand still clutching his stomach as he lifts the gun up, resting the tip against the side of my face. The guys holding me grip the back of my neck, holding me in place as his shaky hand drags the gun across my cheek and toward my mouth. I hold my jaw firm as he pushes against my mouth.
“I should blow your fucking brains out. Here and now,” he says, tilting his head, his nostrils flaring with every breath he takes in.
“No!” Travis screeches, “don’t hurt him,” he breathes rapidly, grimacing in pain as he tries to push himself up from the ground. The guy standing in front of me spins on the spot aiming the gun at Travis, a shot reverberating through the woodland. His piercing scream makes me clamp my eyes shut, my whole body trembling with fear.
Open your eyes, Brax. Open your damn eyes, I tell myself.
But I can’t.
I’m too afraid of what I might see.
A sob catches in my throat and I finally force my eyes open. My ears ring with the deafening sound of the shot. Travis’ leg is bleeding. The sick fucker shot him in the leg.
“Why?” I scream out. “Why are you doing this?”
“We wanted to have some fun, and you little faggots look like the ones to give it to us.”
“You sick fucks,” I say, spitting at the man in front of me.
“Oh, you don’t like our games?” One of the men behind me taunts. “Just wait until we get to the fun part,” he laughs and a heavy ache hits me deep in the stomach. I stand here, with the realization that we might not make it out of here alive. These assholes have a sick plan. A plan that involves us. Everything has happened so fast. One minute we are searching for Izzy, the next minute shots are fired and we are under attack by three unknown men.
I feel stunned.
Stunned by what they have done to my best friend. Exhausted from fighting these guys. Guys that are twice my size and have double the strength. I glance at Travis on the ground. His eyes are wide and open with fear. His face has paled and his skin is covered in beads of sweat. I see it on his face. It’s a reflection of how I feel.
I pull at my arms, determination coursing through my veins. I have to get out of their hold. I have to get over to Travis to see he’s okay. The reality is that he’s been shot twice now, both wounds gushing with blood. Arching my back, I drop my hands behind me and manage to slip from their hold. I drop onto the ground, right beside Travis.
“Travis,” I cry out, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him into me. “Talk to me, buddy.”
“I’m okay,’ he replies, his eyelids flicker as he fights it. Fights the almighty need to close his eyes. I can see him fading. I can see him losing the fight.
“You sick fucks,” I scream as they lean down, taking me by the arms and dragging my body away from him. Saliva flies from my quivering lips.
“Come on,” they laugh in unison like this is some sick kind of joke.
“What? What do you think is so damn funny?”
“You,” the guy with the gun snaps. “You pathetic faggots.”
“Fuck you!” I continue to scream my words all the while glaring at him, wishing that looks could really kill.
“Oh, don’t you worry, I intend to,” the guy replies with a lift of his brow, holding his stomach as he continues to laugh hysterically. I shudder at the intention of his words.
I lunge forward, hoping to find the strength to get my revenge, but I’m held back. My hands are forced behind my back. I look at a fading Travis on the ground and wonder why him? Why have they not shot me? I’m helpless, watching as they drag Travis’ lifeless body from the floor and deeper into the woodland. He doesn’t fight it. He’s fading away and I can’t help him. There isn’t anything I can do. I’m pulled along too, stopping just a few meters away from a tree.
“Stop… please,” I say, begging pitifully but I have to do something. “Shoot me, take my life, do whatever the fuck you want, just let him go. Please, he’s lost a lot of blood. He needs to go to the hospital.”
Raucous laughter breaks out between the three men.
“Does he… does he really think either of them are getting out of here alive?” One guy asks through his fit of laughter.
“Stupid fucking faggots,” the other taunts.
“We are not faggots,” I scream with every bit of air in my lungs.
“We saw you…” the guy with the gun snaps. “We saw you looking all cozy a few feet down the road.”
“We are best friends you fucking dick,” I shout, thrashing wildly as I try to escape his hold.
“Hold the little fucker still,” one of them growls. He steps into my line of sight, grabbing my chin tightly, pocket knife in his hand. He presses it against my forehead, dragging it along my skin. The contact of the blade stings, blood dripping and pooling around my eye socket.
“Stop,” instructs the guy holding me back. “I want him to be able to see every bit of what we are gonna do to his ‘best’ friend,” he exaggerates the word, followed by a deep, throaty chuckle. The emotion inside reaches boiling point as if my whole world has somehow exploded. My adrenaline spikes as the acid fear eats away at my soul. No matter how this plays out, one thing I know with absolute certainty is that nothing will ever be the same again. Everything inside me tells me to run, but I can’t. My natural reactions are completely suppressed and I’m trapped. Like a caged lion trying to escape.
The guy who shot Travis, and one of the other guys, drags his limp body, propping him up against the tree, I watch as he drops a rucksack to the ground, pulling out some rope. Securing his hands, they wrap it around one of the lower branches. His body is held up by the ropes but his head has fallen forward. My stomach dips and my heart fills with despair at the fact that he could be dead. I have no idea if he’s still breathing.
“Travis,” I shout to him. “Hold on, Travis. Please, hold on.”
The main guy runs over to me, knife in hand. “You have a lot to say, cocksucker. Say another word, I dare you. Because you know if you do,” he leans his face so close to mine that I can smell the tobacco on him. “I’ll cut your fucking vocal chords.”
“He will,” agree the guys holding me. “He’s done it before.”
The guy turns on his heel and makes his way back over to a limp looking Travis. He grabs a handful of his hair, pushing his head back, rocking it from side to side like he’s a rag doll. He slowly turns his head, placing Travis’ mouth close to his ear.
“Fucker is still breathing,” he says with a tone of disappointment. Lifting his right hand, clutching the knife, in one smooth slice he works the knife across Travis’ neck, blood spilling from him, covering the guy in blood.
“No!” I scream as loud as I can, my body falling forward as the pain sears through me. “Noooooo…” I continue, over and over.
Suddenly, I fall forward, the sound of gunfire making me flinch. My head whips from side to side as I try to get a handle on what is happening. The guy behind me lays limp on the ground and I scramble on my hands and knees away from his body. I touch my face, my hand covered in his blood.
More shots are fired, but I don’t stop. I make my way behind a tree, using it to pull myself up. My legs are weak and barely able to get me moving. I take small, limping steps until I manage to find the strength to run. I take off, running through the light-restricted woodland; leaves and dry grass crunch beneath my feet.
“Stop,” the unfamiliar voice calls to me. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I don’t stop, but I do turn my head to look at the man following me. He’s quite tall, well-built with dark brown hair.
“Please, we need to get help for your friend,” he yells to me. “The others are dead. You have nothing to fear,” he says breathlessly.
I stop running, my mind playing the scene over and over and suddenly I have no strength in my legs.
“He’s dead,” I cry, tears streaming down my blood-soaked cheeks.
“He needs you,” the guy bends his head.
I know he’s right. Alive or not, I need to be the one that holds him, that helps him down. I have to find the strength to do this.
“Okay,” I choke out, my feet coming to an eventual stop. I lean forward, resting my hands on my bended knee. I jump at the sudden feel of a hand on my back.
“Let me help you,” the guy offers with a sad smile. I wasn’t sure how to react to him. If my presumption is right, this guy, single-handedly killed three men. What’s to say he won’t do the same to me?
“Don’t touch me,” I warn, my hands flying into the air.
“Sorry,” he says, holding his hands up in a mock surrender. “Shitty move, huh?”
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” I ask, my words falling out with a stutter.
“I’m Carter Mellano,” he replies, holding out his hand. “You must’ve heard of my family,” he says, tilting his head to the side.
“I haven’t actually,” I scoff.
“Really?” he smirks. “Never mind, then,” he replies, offering me his hand. “I’m so fucking sorry about your friend.”
“I need to see him,” I say, my hand covering my mouth as I fight back the overwhelming need to be sick.
“If only I’d been here a few moments earlier,” Carter sighs. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“How… how did you know?”
“I was driving past. I saw the bike on the side of the road so I slowed down. That’s when I heard the screams. I ran to find you as soon as I could.”
“I just wish it was me,” I sob, walking past him, retracing my steps.
I hear his footsteps following me and I pick up my speed. I have to get to him. I have to hold him one last time.
Everything deep inside is clenching and my heart pounds so damn hard it hurts to breathe. A million things bustle through my mind. It’s a spinning-out of logic thought that’s filling my head with wildly irrational observations and thoughts, like wanting to scrub my skin clean of the blood stains it. How I’m worried it might infect me with whatever sick disease those fuckers had. I start to rub my hand across my face, desperate to remove it from my skin.
“Hey,” Carter calls after me. “What are you doing?” he quizzes, his brows drawn together.
“I got to get it off me…”
“What? The blood?”
“Yes,” I yell loudly. “I gotta get it off. It’s like acid eating away at my skin,” I ramble, knowing my words make no sense, but it’s how I feel. I’m tainted by those bastards; their blood on my hands and arms and face. In fact, it’s everywhere.
“Oh, God,” I say, rubbing my hands across my bare chest.
“Stop,” Carter says, resting his hand gently on my broad shoulder. I shrug him off and continue to put one foot in front of the other. The fear inside doesn’t want to see the carnage, but my heart dictates that I have to.
“Please,” Carter says as he hurries and stands in front of me. “Just stop for a second. Please,” he repeats, his pained, sympathetic face in my line of sight.
“I can’t,” I dismiss him with a shake of my head, continuing to rub my palms across my skin.
“Look, kid, I know you’re traumatized by what happened back there, and it’s normal to feel that way, but I need you to calm down a little. Back there is not a pretty sight. I need you to be prepared for what you’re about to see. I’m with you, every step of the way.”
“How?” I shake my head, my body trembles as I look up through my tear-soaked eyelashes. “How can you be so calm? You just shot three men…”
“Three men who intended to kill and torture you. The police would have done the same.”
“But you’re not the police,” I reply.
“No, no I’m not. But I will call the police,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. “But first, let me get you and your friend to the side of the road where they can find you.”
“You’re leaving me here?” I gasp, my voice wavering at the sheer thought of being alone with Travis’ dead body.
“I have to, man.” He sighs, squeezing my arms a little. “I can’t afford to get in trouble for this mess.”
I nod, understanding how this could look for the man who just saved my life. “You understand, right?” he asks, dipping his head trying to catch my attention.
“I get it,” I mumble, giving him a nod of acknowledgment.
“Good. I don’t want to. But I have no choice.”
“Just help me with Travis. Then you do what the hell you want,” I lash out, pushing him on the chest. He stumbles backward, but doesn’t fight back.
“Deep breaths,” he whispers as we take small, steady steps. I swallow down the dread that has built in my throat, the sting of acid as bile rises. The urge to cry is overwhelming and despite attempts to fight back the tears, I know I can’t. The tears are chaotic, powerful, as the warmth spills out and across my cheeks. The pain flows through my veins and deadens my mind. I can’t think of anything. Memories flash through my mind like a nightmare returning to haunt me. I blink down hard, trying to get the images out of my mind. But it’s no use.
I stop at the dead body in front of me, darting my eyes away. I have no desire to look at any of them. They aren’t worthy of my time, or any part of how I’m feeling right now. I flicker my eyes up to the tree, a wail escaping me as I dart over to his lifeless body. I wrap my arms around his torso, crying hysterically as I hold onto his body. I cry out in anguish, cursing over and over as I feel so helpless.
“Help me,” I sniffle through my tears. “Please, help me get him down.”
He doesn’t reply, he simply stands beside me, reaching up and cutting the ropes around the branches. I hold his weight as his limp body falls onto me, but my legs finally give way. I drop to the ground with a thud, pulling his body into me. I hold him in my arms like a mother holding a child, rocking back and forth as I let out violent, uncontrollable cries. In this moment, my heart breaks completely. I didn't break quietly. It’s like every atom of my being screams in unison, traumatized that I shall exist without him. How can I continue my life without my best friend? A pain seizes me, one I’m not sure can ever be reversed. I squeeze him tighter, my eyes clamped shut as I try to come to terms with his loss.
The whole world has vanished, all that is left is the pain. A pain so excruciating that it’s enough to break me, pain enough to change me beyond recognition.
I cry, as if the ferocity might bring him back. He was my best friend, and I had to watch as he was tortured and killed, the horrendous memories etched in my mind forever. There was nothing anyone could say or do that would undo that pain I felt every time I thought about that day. Grief is such a funny sort of pain. I can only describe the sadness like death by a thousand paper cuts. Every time I remember him, or what I’ve lost by not having him in my life anymore, it’s like another cut to my already damaged mind. None are enough to kill me, but over time their accumulation has bled me of the humanity I once had. I was once happy and gentle in nature, now I’m fucked up and full of hatred. Hatred toward the world and everything it’s taken from me. I run my finger over the scar on my face, the constant reminder of what happened that day.
“Hey,” her voice catches me off guard. I glance up at Tara standing beside me, her hand resting on my hunched shoulders. I snap my head away, shame coursing through me. “Carter said you’d be here.” She speaks softly; her gentle hand on my back feels comforting. But I don’t want her to see me this way.
“You shouldn’t be here.” I snarl, keeping my back turned to her.
“I’m here to help you. Like you helped me.”
“I don’t need saving,” I growl, snapping my head at her and away again. I rest my hand on the ground, saying my silent goodbye before standing and walking away.
“Brax, please…” she calls after me, her voice so sweet and genuine sounding.
“What? What do you want from me Tara…?” I ask, letting my hands fall by my side. “Look at me. I’m weak and pathetic and more fucked up than you could ever possibly imagine.”
“Aren’t we all?” she replies, dropping her head to one side as she slowly steps closer. “We are just two broken souls, trying to find our way in life.”
I zone out, the thudding of my heart fills my senses. For all that I don’t want to admit it, this girl gets me fired up. She makes me feel, and in a heart that’s filled with complete and utter numbness, that one small feeling is enough to make me question everything. Why does she make me feel this way? Am I a fool for wanting to give in to my desires?
“I guess,” I reply, shrugging as I inhale an unsteady breath. “Let’s go,” I instruct with a wave. She doesn’t hesitate, picking up her pace until we are side by side. I turn my head, flashing her a small smile. Reaching up, she hooks her arm through mine.