Guilt rears its ugly head.
Jenna’s been through enough; I can’t put this kind of stress on the people that care about me.
My stomach squirrels as shame begins to wash over me. “That’s good, Jenna. But please don’t do that for me, honestly, I don’t deserve it.”
She shifts from the other side of the bed, sitting herself so she’s shoulder to shoulder with me. “Okay first, enough about me, we’re talking about you, Indie, don’t deflect.”
Regina tips her head, swallowing as she lowers her mug. “She’s good at that, isn’t she?”
My eyes roll, but there’s a tug at my lips, one that feels natural this time.
“Of course you deserve it. You think we’re not gonna hold you up in the bad times? You’ve literally been masquerading as a damn assassin. Killing dickheads because of what they did to you, did to Gina, to me! Not many people could say their friends went to those lengths for them.”
My throat tightens, and I can feel the burn building at the back of my eyes. “Not everyone has friends like us.”
“Exactly,” Regina says, looking up at me through her lashes.
Leaning over to place the mug on the bed frame, I run my hands through my knotted hair. I can’t remember the last time I cared to brush it. “Everything just feels heavy right now. I don’t know how to put it into words. Saint’s…”
My mouth clamps shut.
It’s one thing torturing myself with the reality in my head; it’s another to let the words freely pass my lips.
A warm hand slips over mine, squeezing it the same way the vice permanently grips around my heart. “I know, you don’t have to say it,” Jenna whispers.
I never want to voice it.
We can’t even have a funeral, no idea where they’ve buried his body, if they’ve even done that at it. It could be lying in a ditch somewhere; they could have burned him.
God, they could have even—
Regina’s voice pulls me from my thoughts and saves me from the downward spiral. “We’ll be here every step of the way, Indie. They won’t get away with this.”
“I’ll even join those damn training sessions, get myself into the badass bitches club,” Jenna jokes, and I huff a laugh whilst shaking my head.
We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and I let my heart regulate its beats.
The Pit is quiet. None of its usual chatter that’s always like a low-volume TV occurs.
Everyone feels the loss.
Saint wasn’t just the leader of this place; he gave these guys a chance. A lot of them knew no other life, and others due to their track records that led them down the wrong path. Yet, Saint took a chance on them all, him and his dad. Keeping them right.
My body has a sudden vibration flowing through it.
I miss him so God damn much.
I jerk when Jenna breaks the silence. “I have to ask, because I’m your best friend. But did they…did they hurt you?”
“No,” I answer, “it was…close. Morgan, he held me down whilst Conrad tried. The tunnel was pitch black. I-I couldn’t see.”
My voice wobbles, even though I can’t stop the onset of word vomit, throat thickening like a vice is clamped around it when I think of just how close I came to that again.
My skin erupts in what feels like hives, but when I look at my arms, nothing’s there; the imaginary flare has my anxiety sky rocketing.
Regina’s hand reaches for my back as she rubs soothing circles. “Breathe, Indigo. You’re alright.”
“Do you want some meds? I could ask the doc if she could give you some. They calm me down when it gets bad, even let you get a rest,” Jenna adds, rising from the bed.
