Senya: I don’t know what they’re going to do but things are getting messy around here
Senya: the feds came back last week and took Magnus in for questioning and now he’s dead and that’s going to draw even more attention to this place
Senya: I have to go now so I’m turning off my phone.
Senya: Be safe out there.
The proverbial walls suffocate as they bind me in place. The sun continues to shine, leaving a sheen on my slick chest. The children continue to play, ignorant to the fact that the day will come when they’ll laugh no more. Their tears of laughter will be wiped away by tears of sorrow. And I remain frozen in place as a realization dawns on me. This was only ever going to go one way, and straight to hell it’s going. I read a book once—a banned book—and in it a wise man said,Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.I was naïve to believe I’d only need one. Retribution is coming for the things I’ve done.
I stand up, a hollowness in my head, and chuck my phone into the pool. Almost hit a child in the head, and he stares at me as if I tried to nail him intentionally.
CHAPTER 7
NOAH
It’s a familiar scene.One that’s played out countless times, either in my mind when I’m driving or when I’m on the other side of being awake.
Swinging and slamming doors are nothing new to me. So when the door slams behind me, I think nothing of it. But when the door swings back open, I know it’s Kevin. No chance he’d let me out of his sight in the middle of a fight. The path ahead is ten-or-so flights of stairs. It’s a concrete jungle of an obstacle course, with each landing twisting into the next.
“The hint you failed to catch is that I took the stairs because I figured your tired old knees couldn’t make the trek.” I turn to him, and the two of us couldn’t look more different. He’s older. I’m younger. He’s dressed in black tie regalia after coming home from another event I skipped out on and I’m dressed like a blue-collar worker in my normal attire—blue jeans and a plaidshirt. “My mistake was forgetting your cruelty is only matched by your stubbornness. You’d risk your legs giving out and taking a tumble down the stairs. And for what, to put me in my place?”
He’s cold and rigid. Always is. “I’m not letting you walk out that door.”
“I’ve already walked through three and only have two more to go. I’m done with this.”
“You take and take, and then take some more until there’s nothing left. I’ve given you everything. I’ve given you my heart. I’ve given you my love. I’ve given you the whole fucking world. Millions of boys would kill to be in your shoes.” He pinches at his forehead. “And you’d give it all up because you’re bored?”
“Because I’m lonely.”
He throws both hands outward. “How in the fuck are you lonely?”
There’s no point in answering. I’ve answered his question a thousand times and it never sticks.
He takes a measured step toward me. Demanding. Commanding. In control, because he’s always in fucking control. I’m tall, but he’s somehow taller. He’d be a giant if the cancer hadn’t worn away at his physique.
“Swing at me. For old times sake,” I seethe. “I dare you.”
But he doesn’t take the bait, instead he remains frozen in place. His glare pulling the weight of what his fists usedto.
“You’re a coward,” I say, gravel in my throat. It took years to find my voice, and every time I use it, I have to find it again.
That does the trick. He balls one hand into a fist.
“Fucking hit me. Hit me like you used to. Hit me like you did before I got strong. Before I learned to fight back. Before you got weak.”
He shakes his head. “Do you know what your mother’s last words were?”
“I can’t imagine she had the wherewithal to say much between her final breaths.”
“That her son was a whore. Always had been. Learned to spread his legs young.”
He knows he can no longer win a battle of brawn and resorts to the same tired manipulation tactics. He wants to make sure I know it’s me against the world, and without him, I’m nothing. Hits me where it hurts, over and over and over again.
“She did that to me,” I say lowly.
“She said I was the best thing to happen to you.” He places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “She was fucking right. I’m the only good thing about you. You’re a soulless, ungrateful whore.” He places his other hand on my other shoulder. “That little boyfriend of yours? He’s gone. I offered him a million dollars to disappear.”
“You son of a bitch.”
