Silencing the screams, I shut the door behind me, my shoulders relaxing at the sound of the lock turning. The heavy stench of piss and death vanishes as I walk into the overwhelming smell of sterile bleach. With an ease I didn’t have before, I make my way to the sink, my bare feet slapping against the cool white tiles.

This place is my sanctuary.

Looking into the small stained mirror, I glare at my reflection. Staring back at me are the cold, brown eyes of a man who has been brought up in the kind of life that should never exist, a man who can only find peace in death.

But is it enough?

Shaking the thought from my head, I turn on the water and begin the process of washing the sins from my hands. I watch mesmerized as the water turns to blood. A calmness and sick satisfaction blankets me as the color falls from my hands.

Yes, this is what I fucking needed.

The sound of my phone ringing interrupts my routine and stirs me from my thoughts. Shutting off the water, I dry my hands on the clean towel that hangs next to the mirror and answer. “Yea?” My voice sounds almost out of place in the silence.

“Got another hit,” Drifter barks in my ear, the shuffling of papers can be heard in the background.

“What do you mean?” I ask calmly. Placing the phone between my ear and shoulder, I remove the bloodied coveralls and hang them on the rack to be washed. Grabbing my clean clothes off the hanger, I begin to put them on. The routine like a snake shedding its skin.

I come to this place when my body feels tight and itchy. When the need for blood becomes something I can’t ignore; something I can’t contain. I always leave this place feeling lighter and refreshed, able to function in the real world.

I know it’s sick… but fuck if I care.

“Same description. Everything matches,” he answers, bringing me back to the conversation. “Man in an all-black suit, face covered by a hat, everything. But this time he was a closer.” Silence ticks on for a beat before he continues, “It’s him man, he’s fucking coming for her.”

All the anger I released moments ago comes back full force. Taking the phone away from my ear, I roll my neck trying to calm down. Placing the phone back, I let out a steady breath. “It can’t be him,” I say as coolly as possible. There’s just no fucking way.

“Are you fucking shitting me right now, Buck? How much more proof do you need? He’s back and he is fucking coming for our girl! Get your head out of your ass and look at the facts!”

Feeling the fire lick through my veins again, it takes everything in me not to crush the phone in my hand. What the fuck is this fool playing at? Whoever this fucker is has no clue of the hell I will bring right to his door if he lays a hand on my girl.

“Right now, I don’t give a shit who it is. All I care about is ending this for good and keeping her safe.” I begin pacing back and forth as I gear up to absorb every ounce of information Drifter has. “Where the fuck was he sighted?”

This shit has been going on long enough. Seven months after the raid went down at the slavery, Emmy started getting notes and gifts; little things at first, like a single rose and a box of chocolates, nothing that raised our concern. We thought we knew where they were coming from, but suddenly the gifts started getting darker, more sadistic. The night I got a call from Drifter telling me Emmy was back at the hospital from a panic attack caused by a letter, is a night I will never forget. 

The fear and confusion on her face when I showed up at the hospital…

Fuck.

Since then we have intercepted every note and every gift sent to Emmy and every one of them has been enough to let us know that someone is after her. Someone who knew her well. The moment word spread of Marx Nixon’s takedown, people from all over fled and went into hiding. Everyone scared of what might be uncovered. Very few even know Marx made it out alive.

It’s made our search harder.

After a few months of trying to catch this fuck, Drifter went back to Cali, as all his contacts and equipment for this kind of investigation are back there. Even with everything in his pockets, we have yet to find the fucker doing this.

It’s a skillful game of cat and mouse.

Whoever is behind this knows what he is doing. He knows not just her routine, but he knows ours as well. More than that, though, he knows all of her weaknesses.

Every time this person is spotted- whether it’s at the post office, a hotel, or wherever else he decides to send his gift from, we always get the same description; it’s a man in an all-black suit wearing a hat that covers his cowardly face. They also say he has an untouchable vibe, that authority roles off him in waves.

The surveillance footage hasn’t been any better. He never sends the gifts from the same place twice and he knows how to avoid a camera.

There's only one man with that description and discretion that would have something to gain from Emmy. But still I just - 

“He was at the hospital.”

Coming to an abrupt stop I replay the words in my head, making sure I understood them correctly. “Say that the fuck again.”

“You fucking heard me. He was at the hospital and he wasn’t alone… The nurse told one of my boys that a woman with the same description as Mo was with him.” Sweat beads on my forehead as the flames grow hotter inside me. The knowledge that the threat was right down the road from Emmy has my skin itching with anticipation. “That’s not all, Buck,” Drifter continues.

“Tell me,” I all but growl.

“They left a note… sending it now.”

Pulling the phone from my ear I open the message icon and what I see has me seeing fucking red. 

‘You will always be my princess.’

No fucking way… I’m going to fucking destroy them. Whoever this is.

Placing the phone back to my ear, the calmness that seeps through my voice is deadlier than any yell.  With thoughts of blood in my head I ask, “What do we do?”

Letting out a sigh, he answers with the last thing I thought would come out of his mouth. “She needs to come here”.

“To Cali?”

“Yea, it’s the only way to guarantee she is safe. No one is getting in my place.”

“Do you think she’s ready?”

“Will she ever be? How can we expect her to ever be ready to remember a past like hers?” he asks, sounding exhausted and unsure. “I spoke with her doctor and she said Emmy’s flashbacks have been getting worse. She is getting stronger, able to handle them better. I think this will be a good thing.”

“And the Sinners?”

“Keep ‘em out of it”.

Squeezing my eyes shut I ask the one question he knows is coming. “What about the boy?”

“He’s already watching her… there won’t be any way of hiding this.”

“Maybe we can use it to our advantage.”

“Maybe.”

I continue to pace as silence stretches on, both of us lost in our own head trying to think things through.

This isn’t going to be easy. I know he’s right. Emmy would be safer there; but that place is going to force her to remember things, things that could bring her to her knees. An ache in my chest that I’ll never get used to causes me to pause at the thought.

My life was set in stone from the moment I was born. I didn’t know any different as I earned my title as Head Guard. It was what I was born to do. But something changed the day that girl stepped foot in the slave ring. No matter how dark that place was, it was no match against her light. Even in her weakest moments she held onto it, and after only a short time I craved it.

I craved something better.

“We have to do this the right way. We can’t force this shit on her, she has to want to go back, want to remember,” I say, coming up with a plan. “We have to give her a memory that is worth remembering… something worth making a change.”

“I think I know just the thing.”

Hanging up the phone I continue pacing, the words from the note still warring with my demons. Egging them on.

Since the second it was made clear that Marx and Mo were missing, Drifter has been convinced it’s them causing this shit… but the truth is, several people got away that night. I’m not taking aim until every single fucking person is in my line of target.

Every. Single. One.

Letting out a growl, I rip my clothes off once again, the monster I tamed moments ago unleashed and deadlier than ever. Reaching back for my dirty coveralls, I rip them from the hanger and put them back on. 

My secret is my savior – but my savior is also my sin.

There is no way to repay all the blood and guilt that stains my soul, but for the rest of my life I will pay my dues in the only way I know how.

Through death.