When I first got out, I couldn’t help the overwhelming need to check on them. To see what they were up to, or if they were still in the town we grew up in, immediately heading back there the first chance I got. Sitting at the end of the street, I watched and waited for a week to see if I could see them coming andgoing. All I needed was a glimpse. Just one that would tell me they were okay. To see the men who I thought would always be by my side, even if it would only be from the sidelines. I knew from the start that I wouldn’t be able to make contact with them again, not until I cleared the way and made it safe for them and me.
Their faces however, they were the ones that I pictured to get me through. The ones I thought of in the roughest times and what I clung to for hope and light.
Day four-hundred and … something. I’m still trying to stay true to myself, but Colt and Dwight come down at least twice a day now. They’ve been trying to get me to fall in line, but I’ve managed to hold out so far.
This morning's “lesson” was dodging a blade… or at least attempting to. These psychos have no morals or remorse, so of course they’re using actual knives and daggers. My body is sliced and diced. I have several stab wounds in my gut from not being fast enough. Even with the bandages and thread they threw at me, I’m still bleeding through. There’s no doubt the marks on my body from today will take a very long time to heal, if they heal at all.
When I couldn’t stand by the end of their teaching, they kicked me in the stomach until I spit up blood. Their voices bellowed through my head, loud enough to drown out even the blood rushing past my ears, as they spewed their vile words.
“Lazy and pathetic, can’t even defend herself. No one is going to take this waste of skin seriously. We should’ve just let her die. It’s not like she’s fucking useful,” he would shout, his spit flying, mixing with the blood seeping from my wounds.
Now finally alone again, the rush of different emotions threaten to consume me from the inside. I’m quickly spiraling. Sinking lower and lower, until the surface can no longer be seen. It’s as if the sound of the door clicking shut and the bolt sliding into place woke a tsunami of feeling. I need to get control, to let these emotions out before I drown in them. Broken, beaten, and bloody, I cried for the first time in weeks. Letting everything pour out of me, while talking to my old life.
“Mom, Dad. I wish you were still here. I don’t want to be here anymore,” I sobbed into the empty room. “I don’t know how to continue. Everything hurts and I’m tired. So very, very tired. I know you t-taught me to be strong, but I d-don’t want to be strong anymore, D-daddy. Please, don’t make me.”
Talking to my family, my friends, it’s cathartic. It’s been one of the ways I’ve managed to hold out this long. To keep going when everything in me wants to call it quits. I think about my guys, how they’re still out there. Wondering what we would be doing if our lives—well, my life—hadn’t been thrown into the shredder.
I often think about what I would say to them, if I could re-do our beach day together knowing it was our last. What I would tell them before it was too late.
I’d start with Zane. Telling him how strong and handsome he really is. To remind him that he’s better than the girls hanging off him with less brain cells than fingers. I would divulge how I’ve gotten lost staring into his eyes, like I had been looking for his soul and took a wrong turn. Confess to him that he was my very first crush, the first boy I wrote about in my diary.
Oh god. I hope they didn’t find that after I was gone…
Next would be Ryder. Our youngest, the baby of our group. I would tell him to never lose his sweetness. His kind-hearted nature is such a gift that no one appreciates nowadays and is far too rare. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to feel one of his big, warm, bear hugs again. To relish in the feeling of his arms wrapped around me. I wouldn’t even be scared to tell him that he smelt the best out of our group, me included, and to finally reveal the dreams I’d had about him. Ones where we were dating, walking along the creek in the low lying sun. Him a foot taller than me, but still the baby. My smaller-big-protector man.
God, if I could see him again, I would pounce on Kade. Climbing him and hanging off him like a koala. Still reminding him that just because he has glasses, doesn’t mean he is less in any way. He was always scared of his intellect, fearful that it would make him seem less attractive or attainable. But that is so far from the truth, his big brains were the best and made him better than most of the high school population. I always wondered what it would be like to kiss him, to feel his lips against mine, and now I may never know.
Max. My almost twin, my ride or die. Gruff around the edges, always worried about something, but a complete sweetheart when he was around us. He needs to smile more, that would be my mission. To get him to let loose, have more fun and laugh. To actually wear sunscreen once in a while, instead of letting himself burn, and to be a little easier on his dad. I would tell him how much I miss hearing his laughter, hisbadly-timed jokes, and his kind words. How he used to cuddle me until I fell asleep and how I always felt safe in his arms.
Hell, if I had one chance to do it all over, I would tell them all how I’ve been in love with them for years.
After a week of watching, it became painfully clear they no longer lived on our old street and I continued to run. Distancing myself from Colt and the Havoc Vipers with every step forward. I had a brief stint in New York, and after completing a job from J to chase down an escaped ex-con, I found myself outside a library. The pull to know more drew me inside and to the computers, searching for the guys to see how they fared.
Only Zane and Ry popped up. News articles detailing the statistics of their careers. How they’ve been traveling all over the country, and where people saw them in five or ten years. I was shocked to see they both took up professional fighting, as in our younger years, I couldn’t picture them hurting a fly.
People change. Look at yourself.My inner bitch reminded me.
Both men however, were still sexy as fuck. Maybe even more with the fighting kink I seemed to develop in my years of captivity.Thanks a lot, Havoc Vipers…
I also tried to search the obituaries for Max and Kade, praying of course they came up blank. Thankfully, they did. Unless you count the ninety-four-year-old woman named Maxine, who evidently died of heart complications, there was no indication the other two were anything less than okay.
Now, it’s nice to know three out of four of them made something for themselves outside of Texas. I can only hope that Kade is the same.
Since I spent yesterday along the water, I figured I’d spend today in the city. I need a better understanding of the layout, and how to get myself around. What better way to do that than riding the transit system? It would allow me to get a better feel for the main roads versus the smaller ones, and figure out how to find my way back to the motel from anywhere. Plus, paying three bucks for the bus sounds a lot better than a thirty dollar Uber ride to sight see.
I should probably also see about finding a way to make money. The savings from my job in Wilmington is lower than I’d like it to be, and if I’m really goingto stay here, I’ll need a job anyway. Maybe there’s something like a bike courier service I could look into later.
I’m wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Another habit I haven’t been able to shake. I learned early into this cat and mouse game that the more often I wore the same clothes, the less of a chance I was seen. Anyone following me loses credibility when all their surveillance photos look like they were taken on the same day, and it gets them off my back long enough for me to bolt. It’s only a small tactic, and it only works a few times before they catch on, but any advantage helps.
Walking for a while, I take in the sights and sounds of the city. The smell of the engine exhaust mixing with salt water. The sound of the swaying trees and mindless chatter. Even the angry car horns sound peaceful compared to the still silence of my prison cell. The sun beats against my skin, warming it from the memory shiver that takes over.
The sharp sound of hissing from the air suspension of a bus brings me back and has my feet moving. Paying the driver, I take a seat to begin my adventure throughout Miami.
Two hours of trading buses, switching stops and walking to different locations, I find myself on the far side of the city. Completely opposite of where I started this journey. Now comes the real fun, figuring out how to make it back using either minimal GPS services, or asking passersby for directions. I’ve done this in a few cities and if you think of it like a scavenger hunt, trying to get to the main prize, it’s not so bad. You meet so many neat, interesting people when you aimlessly wander.
Getting off the Metro-bus downtown, I head over to the next stop I’ve been directed to for this trip. Luckily I wasted no time, and the moment I arrive, so does my ride. This bus isn’t overly packed, a few travelers littered throughout the seats. A couple of business types, a mom with a stroller, and some kids just starting out their summer vacation. Except for the one guy at the front with headphones in and a scowl on his face, no one bothers looking at the people getting on.
I take up a spot in the back. I’m going to be on this one route for a while, according to the half-assed directions the old lady selling roses gave me, so I shove my earbuds in and get comfy. With my hood covering most of my head, and my knees brought up to my chest, I’m practically invisible to most.
