Tiffany shakes her head.
“You’re broken, Joseph. You are barely surviving, and only the visit from a Chinese woman appears to help with that.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
The noise inside my head is deafening me as images of my past crowd into the small space along with us.
“No, I won’t!” Tiffany yells back, her anger adding fuel to the fire as she hisses, “Tell me what it is. Is it Zac?”
“I said shut the fuck up!”
I almost scream my rage and slap my hand over her mouth as my eyes blaze into her frightened ones.
I press her back against the seat, and the sweat glides down my back as I shake inside, the knives carving away my humanity and exposing the beast inside me.
Images of that day play like a movie in my mind. Laughter, grunting, the throb of my dick inside a wet pussy. Squealing tires, gunfire, slamming doors and footsteps, yells, and angry words.
I’m falling apart with no soft landing, and as I stare into Tiffany’s innocent eyes, something breaks inside me.
I pull away and thump on the partition between me and the driver, and as the car stops, I reach for the handle and am off and running as fast as I can.
Her words wrapped around his name, pounding against my head as she forced him into our life, sitting between us. My sin, my guilty secret, my pain, and my shame.
Footsteps run behind me, and I can tell they are not the usual ones. The click of heels tells me only one thing.
“Joseph.”
Her soft voice reaches me, and with a howl, I turn and grasp her by the neck, slamming her against the nearby wall while glaring into her eyes.
“Don’t follow me.”
I make to drop her, and she snatches at my hand.
“Tell me, Joseph. What is so bad that you can’t talk about it?”
I notice the guards waiting at a respectful distance, always watching and waiting for something bad to happen. There’s a small alley nearby, and my mind buzzes. I back away, Tiffany lying against the wall, her expression a mixture of fear, hurt, and concern.
Another face replaces it. A sweet, innocent woman crying my name as I fuck her against the wall. Pushing me away as she ran for cover. Betraying me. Setting me up.
With a howl, I smash my fist against the wall, just narrowly avoiding Tiffany’s head, causing her to jump but not run.
“Tell me,” her words are soft, calm.
“Please, Joseph, whatever it is, I’m not going anywhere.”
I reach out and pull her close, my arms snapping like a steel clamp around her, holding her prisoner against me; she can’t run now.
I blink as the image of Sally haunts me, her bloodied throat seeping the life from her, the blade in my hand coated with her blood as I stare into her lifeless eyes.
Zac is by my side, always by my side, but he wears a demon’s wings now. Always there, accusing me, blaming me, telling me he will never leave. I see the massacre, the men I killed, bound and tied, hanging like carcasses before me. Their blood dripping onto the concrete below, their guts hanging from their bodies, mutilated by my hand.
I see the frightened child I was as I hung from the ceiling, naked and bruised, a noose around my neck.
I see it all: the knives, the threats, the blood, and carnage, but most of all, I see my best friend dead at my feet. Because of me. Because I ignored instructions and because I thought I knew best.
Tiffany holds me tight, my head buried in her sweet-smelling hair, her voice soothing, calming me and promising she’s not going anywhere.
“I want to know it all, Joseph. Share your pain with me. We can help each other; we’re a team, remember.”
