I pour myself a heavy slosh of whiskey, but at this point, I might as well be taking it straight from the bottle. I chase it with three tablets. Anything to keep the nightmares that come at all hours away.
Because in the darkness, I feel everything.
The crack of steel toe boots to my ribs, to my skull, to my face.
My teeth loosening, and bone giving.
The burn of those cattle prods ripping through my skin, the electricity almost sending my heart into arrhythmia.
And worse. I hear him.
Alvarez.
Asking me over and over again in that cool, calculated tone that never wavered, what I knew about a man I didn’t care about and barely knew.
Every day, I watch the clock tick closer to night. Knowing that as soon as I close my eyes, I’ll be right back there. Then, I wake, choking on my own breath, drenched in sweat, calling out indecipherable words as I try to escape the nightmares.
So, I drink.
Yeah, it’ll wreck my liver. Sooner rather than later, if I’m lucky.
Because a man who’s scared is no use to his club, and right now, I’m not a man worth keeping around.
I flop down onto my unmade bed. The sheets are twisted and stale, and I don’t remember the last time I washed them. The only reason I shower is because I know Knox’s eye is on me.
My phone buzzes on the mattress next to me, and I almost ignore it, letting it ring out.
But something, a habit, maybe, or the fear it could be an Outlaw in trouble, makes me glance at the screen.
An unknown number.
But in my drunken attempt to swipe it off, I answer it.
“Fuck,” I mutter, tugging it to my ear. “Yeah?”
“Can you help me?” My whole body goes still at the small, shaky voice of a little girl. There’s a fear wrapped up in it that almost echoes my own.
“You got the wrong number, kid.” But I sit up anyway and put my drink down on the small table next to the bed.
There’s a small sob. “I couldn’t see the number good without my glasses.”
Hang up, V.
I even take the phone away from my ear, but then…
“Who did you want?”
“I wanted it to be my mom’s friend, Annie. Is she there?”
I look around my empty room, somehow wishing I could pull the mystery woman out of my closet for her. “She’s not. What’s your name, kid?”
“Elsie.” A loud hammering cracks through the line, and she gasps. “He won’t go away.”
A woman’s voice, scared but furious, bursts through the line. “I said get away from my house or I’m calling the police.”
Elsie sobs quietly. “What do we do?”
I swing my legs off the bed before I have time to overthink why I’m even considering doing this. “Where are you right now?”
