I start to cry again, wanting my mommy and daddy so bad. Are they worried about me? I hope they're trying to find me.
Daddy is an important man. Mommy told me that before. I know they love me. But what if they forget about me? I've been gone so long.
My lip trembles as I cry. I pray to the big god in the sky to save me.
God, this feels too much like those dark times. I thought I’d be there forever, being abused and molested the rest of my life.
Hoodie Boy came—Synn—but I was left with the Solomons, abusers and monsters themselves.
They have to find me. I want to go... home.
Wherever my chosen family is at feels like home to me. I know I have a real family to find, but the only thing I can think about now is my guys and my two besties, Valley and Cynthia.
Razor
Fucking stupid machine. I slam my fist against the pinball machine I’m wrecking to kill time until we can go get Fiasca. I kick the damn thing, my anger rising even more. I have an inherent fear of the unknown.
My mother was so hot and cold when I was growing up, and she could flip on a dime. My father didn't give a single shit what she did to me. Hell, he beat me and shoved me in tight spaces himself.
The crazy bitch cut me up so much, I was permanently scarred before I hit double digits in age. I never knew when she would be coming for me. I was in a constant state of terror and fight or flight.
It was a horrible way to grow up—and that's without the mafia bullshit. Is it any wonder I'm crazy as hell, and have an affinity for a razor blade?
I shake my head aggressively to clear the thoughts. I need to go fight or something. Anything to pass the time while Fiasca is gone. Those fuckers need to find her yesterday.
I leave the media room to head to the gym. I'm hoping someone is there to spar with, otherwise I’ll be hitting a heavy bag.
Striding through the door, I can see Synn beating the shit out of a bag. His blows land so hard it’s sending the bag swinging. I guess he’s as pissed off as I am.
“Brother, let’s spar. I need to get some of this out of my system,” I say to him in greeting, walking up alongside the bag.
Synn grunts. “Yeah, good idea.”
We both go to the ring, stripping off our shirts, and grabbing gloves. Before we can climb into the ring, someone else barrels into the gym.
“No. Me, fight,” 3 yells, eyes blazing. “I can do it. Need it now.”
Whoa—fuck.
“You sure, man? I don’t fight fair,” I try to explain, but he’s already grabbing gloves, and gets into the ring.
I look at Synn. “I'll go; you’ll kill him.”
Synn laughs. “Sure will.” He goes to find a spot to watch.
I put the gloves on, dancing in place to warm myself up. I’m about ready to move to the center, when a flash moves in my vision and I take a vicious blow to the face.
“The fuck, man?” I complain.
The little shit can pack a punch. Who knew?
I lash out at 3, getting in a good stomach shot. He lets air out, and I move back in, hitting him with a flurry of punches to his abdomen.
3 roars, and I raise a brow. He stands tall, rushing me again. He crowds me against the ropes and just unleashes. He's not pulling his punches one bit. I'd almost be proud of the guy if he wasn’t beating the shit out of me. I never get bested in the ring. This is unacceptable.
Synn is laughing his ass off, and I holler with a rapidly swelling lip, “Fuck you.”
3 takes advantage of my distraction, punching me in the jaw so hard, I spin around, and hit the mat.
