Page 52 of Shattered Souls

“This is one hell of an I’m sorry for not getting me the food truck food.” She earns a laugh out of me and a chuckle out of Hayze. We both take our plates and both sit next to her and dig in.

To all of our surprises, the night is filled with delicate conversation that actually allows us to bond with our toy. She offers little details about her life and we try to as well. Of course, I have to translate for her, but hopefully not for much longer. There’s laughter and soft glances shared between bites, as well as praises for the food.

This is something I could get used to.

17

Rayvn

It’s funny how simple and calm life can be when you keep your blinders on. When you force the truth behind a closed door and pray that the hinges don’t rust. For me, that was forgetting that these men took me prisoner and are holding me against my will. Because right now, as I lay on the sofa with my head in Hayze’s lap and my feet on Synn’s thighs, I’m at peace.

Maybe for the first time in my miserable life, I’m ready to stop running. To adapt to my life, even if unconventional. The park has been on lock down since the shooting on Saturday. With it now being Tuesday, there isn’t much we can do but sit inside and watch TV. Synn leaves the house for work and the occasional shopping trip.

Synn wasn’t the happiest when I laid my legs across him, but he let me stay there nonetheless. Hayze, however, is running his hand through my hair, occasionally moving his hand down to run his thumb over my lips. This is a pure vision of happiness.

I awake with a hand pressed to my chest and a mumble of curses slipping past my lips at the oddly intimate dream that was just that—a dream. My thighs are aching from clenching so hard in my sleep, and my head is pounding, calling me an idiot, from letting these two cold blooded killers into my heart.

The room is void of the quiet twin, and to my shock, I find my arms free from the chains. Pinching my eyes shut a few times to rid myself of the dreams, I stand from the bed and move to the bathroom.

I brush my teeth and my hair, my eyes avoiding the mirror as I prepare to face the brothers. Just as I’m turning to leave, I see it. My cheeks are full and slightly pink from my sleep. My eyes are clear of the bags that used to lay heavy under them, not to mention the lack of purple.

I lift my hand and softly place it against my heated skin, the heart pendant, or tracker, on my collar catching the light. I haven’t seen myself look this human in years—maybe ever. When I walk into the living room my mind is a raging storm of emotions, none of them willing to take front.

Hayze is in the kitchen, sipping on a shaker cup with his phone in his other hand. He looks up at my arrival and flashes me a soft and easy smile. He lifts his hand and starts to finger spell to me.

BREAKFAST

He nods his head to the other end of the island, where a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon sit, ready for me. I place my hand to my chin then push my hand out, signing thank you. I stare at the plate, but make no effort to move for it.

He pays me no attention as I slink off towards the room where I watched them murder a man. It’s clean now. The table and concrete below are spotless. If I didn’t know better, I’d never assume such heinous acts were done in here—done to me.

I walk up to the table and sink down. My mind chooses: sadness, dejection, grief, heartache, agony. I let it cover me like a blanket, a heaviness that I welcome—a sea I willingly sink in.

How can I want these men so badly when I’ve seen such horror play out at their hands? How can I even judge them if I’ve caused something just as tragic at my own hand? Am I just as bad as them? Will I end up like them? Will I risk everything to leave, or will I conform to this version of normalcy and stay?

I can’t deny the fact that I’ve thought about staying. Just calling off the chasing and acting and giving in to them. Maybe that’s why I stopped running so hard each time they let me. It’s exhausting, running all the time.

I chew on the skin of my finger as I stare at the ground, my mind quiet and loud all at once. I’m not sure how long I stay here, but it’s long enough for Synn to return home and find me like this.

“Rayvn?” He sounds worried. I turn my head towards him and something that borders fear flashes across his face for a moment before vanishing altogether.

“Yea?” I give a watery smile, a tear slipping free. He drops the bags he’s carrying and walks over to me.

“Get up.”

“No, thanks.” I bring my eyes back down to the too clean floor in front of me. Did Damien feel pain in his last moments? Obviously he did, but how much of his own body did he see before the light was snuffed out?

“That’s it.” Synn reaches down and grips my arm, yanking me to my feet.

“What’s your deal?” I snatch my arm back, my voice raising. “Why can’t I just be left alone? Isn’t it bad enough I can’t see the fucking sun anymore? I get three days a week outside, or did now that the cops are swarming the place, but even when I see the sky, the sun’s long gone.” I’m angry, with myself, with him, with Hayze, with my father, with the friends I wanted so badly that I caved and came here.

“You think I want to keep you here like this?” He steps up to me, pressing his chest into me. “I want to kick you out of here and let you venture dealing with the cops and that fucking group of girls on your own. But if I did that, I’d be putting me and my brother in danger.”

“Oh, cause it’s all about you two? The iconic duo.” I put air quotes around the words Mateo told me right before he died—because of me.

“Have you ever thought about someone else but you?” I recoil at that. He’s joking, right?

“Of course I have.” My voice shrinks. I don’t know why. I’m not guilty of being selfish, am I?