Shay’s the only one in the group I would consider close to a friend, even though that word is a stretch. He’s the only one who tolerates my weird ways and is nice to me. I don't regret stabbing the asshole who was beating on him, in fact, I enjoyed it, but that's a piece of information I keep to myself. I know I would enjoy it even more if it was my dearest stepbrother on the end of the blade.
A shadow casts over the top of me, and I look up to see an angry Jake looking down on me like I’m a bug on his shoe, an irritant. We are such a contrast to each other, mirror images of our biological parents. While I have black shaggy hair, tan skin, and brown eyes like my mom, he has golden blond hair that's always in a messy man bun with blue eyes and fair skin like his evil father. We only match on height at six feet a piece but where he is muscular, I’m more like a lean baseball player. I’m still strong and well-defined.
He continues to stare down at me, and while I know he hates me, there has always been another feeling lurking beneath the surface. It’s the way he looks at me, the way I catch his gaze when it lingers on me for too long, and it sets my body cringing. My insides curl in disgust. I was sixteen when things changed between us. He was too interested in me, and it didn’t help that Jake’s dad encouraged him to mold me to be like them, unfeeling and living a shitty dead-end life of drug dealing and fucking up anyone who got in our way. I’ve lived in hell. Old memories from years ago try to replay like a horrific movie.
“It's about time you started fucking around with girls, boy. Don’t want folk thinking you’re a fag. You need to start being like Jake, acting like a real man instead of a pussy. Your mom was always too soft on ya.”
Shut up! Shut up!
I manage to ward off the memories of my useless stepdad. Now just to deal with his younger carbon copy of a dickhead son.
“You shouldn’t have even been there. Shay can handle himself, and now because of you we have to meet with the Kozlovs tonight.”
He crouches in front of me, grabbing onto my hair so tightly I wince, pulling my head back so he can look me in the face.
“You will take the blame for this, baby brother. You will tell them you didn't know you were on their turf and that it was a mistake. I will not have this crew torn apart and end up buried underground because of you and your curiosity. Do you understand?”
I hate it when he calls me baby brother. It's a trigger that puts me in a trance. It flicks a switch in my head, and I’m that eighteen year old again, afraid. It sounds fucking tragic, never failing to send me into a frenzied panic as I fight to regain control of my mind. But he’s asking me to take the blame and of course I understand that it falls to me. Always falls to me. I have a strong suspicion the dickhead is up to something that will get him into deep trouble with the Kozlovs. I'm not sure what the actual plan is, he doesn't share much with me, but I’ve seen the signs. He’s more on edge nowadays, having secret conversations with other crew members that I’m never part of. To be honest, that's part of the reason I followed Shay, to see what the hell is going on. I’m involved whether I know the plan or not, and I would be guilty by association.
Deciding that I need to be compliant to diffuse this situation, I agree. It goes against every part of me to submit to my stepbrother, but for me to end him, I need to remain close. I want him dead. I’ve been planning it in my mind for years but with everything going on right now, this might just be the right time. There are so many other factors his death could be blamed on. Mainly the Kozlovs taking him out.
“Yes, Jake. I understand," I whisper, cowing under his sharp gaze. Vulnerability is the only thing that pacifies him, and it's not hard to conjure when I'm under the influence of his commanding tone. Certain words and phrases revert me back to the scared young man who wished someone would save me. They push the crazed part of me that wants to take him apart to the back of my mind.
He knows it, too. It took him years to turn me into the fucked up mess that I am. I war with the conflicting voices daily and exhaustion wears me down, overwhelming me. In those moments, I wish he'd just end me.
Pulling away from me, Jake stands to walk away. My hand twitches with the urge to pull out my switchblade and stab him in the back. Or even better, to cut his throat slowly and listen as he gurgles his last wet breaths while looking at me, realizing it was me that ended him, that I’ll live on without his suffocating presence. My cock jolts, excited at the thought. My cock is as fucked up as my head.
“Good, now get yourself cleaned up. Lev has asked to see you. I am warning you, do not fuck this up. You won't like the consequences,” he says, and off out the door he goes, not even looking back.
Wait, did he say Lev?
The last few threat-filled minutes dissipate as that one name sends my stomach aflutter. Lev. Hot, sexy, and murdering psychotic Lev.
I’ve been fantasizing over him since I first laid eyes on him months ago. That guy ticks all my boxes, and I don't know if I can contain myself. What will he do? I love the idea of him threatening me, but, to be honest, I don't want him to hurt me. Not my thing. But I would enjoy watching him hurt others.
Last month I saw him remove a guy’s teeth with pliers, and it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I came hard that night after replaying the scene over in my head.
My brain shifts so rapidly from one feeling to another, it gives me whiplash. Sometimes, I can’t keep up. I was diagnosed with ADHD when Mom was still around.
“All that kid needs is a firm hand, Marie,” my stepdad argued, thinking it was a bullshit diagnosis. And boy was he determined to give it to me. “I’ll teach him how to focus.”
After my mom died, that’s when things really turned to shit. At first I thought it was grief, but the hurtful sting of rejection dominated the interactions I had with my stepdad until it was undeniable. I’d looked up to my stepdad–who I’d considered my dad–and Jake, but that worship died along with Mom.
Poor Mom. Bet he was shit to her too. No, I know he was shit to her. I was too young to understand her tired eyes or why her fierce spirit faded until it was a timid ghost of what it once was, but I get it now. I wish I’d looked harder. Maybe I could have done something. Convinced her to leave that fucking bastard who never should have had kids.
At least he’s been mentally castrated. A stroke from too much booze and drugs left him unable to care for himself and he’s holed up in a care home, thankfully in another state. That’s called karma, motherfucker. After years of verbal and physical abuse, I’m happy for him to rot there.
Realizing I am still kneeling on this shitty floor, I pull myself onto my feet. I share this apartment with Jake and two other guys from the crew, one being Shay and the other Tommy. Speaking of Tommy, I'd forgotten he was in the room.
“He’s too soft on ya, fuckface. It’s about time he gave ya a proper beatin’ after fuckin’ this up for us,” he sneers, walking over and getting into my face.
This asshole has no idea about the beatings I’ve endured, but he can think what he thinks. I'll destroy him too and enjoy every second of it.
“Fuck off, Tommy. Jake isn’t here to see you kiss ass,” I clap back at him, ramming into his shoulder as I pass by. He doesn’t intimidate me at all.
Unfortunately, I don’t get far. It doesn't take much to piss him off. He grips me by the arm, pulling me towards him.
“Who do ya think you are talking to like that, you little freak?” Spittle flies from his mouth. “You’re nothin’ and no one. Not even your brother or daddy care about you. Hell, Jake is even making you take the blame and deal with the wrath of Lev, clear sign you mean nothin’ to him.” He smiles like it’s a victory, as if he’s telling me something I don't already know, but he’s in denial. He is such a prick. I want to laugh hysterically at the fucking stupidity. He hates me because he knows my stepbrother has a fucking weird and disgusting obsession with me and he’s jealous. It’s so fucking obvious that Tommy wants him, but Jake isn’t interested. Jake might be different with me, but he's a homophobic asshole who would probably shoot Tommy in the head if he knew that Tommy wanted him. I remember the homophobic comments and slurs when I was younger that Jake and his dad used to use, thinking it made them tough. At least I knew how they felt. After realizing I was gay, I knew my sexuality had to be locked in a steel closet.
