Three canvases are spread out across an old bedsheet on the floor of the living room. Three canvases with three profiles on each of them. Two men I love, and my mother, who’s long gone make up the three. All the while, my mind focuses on the news that plays on the television in the background.
The list of names goes on and on. I can’t look at the faces. I can’t look at the scenes as they show them on the screen.
Addison is cuddled up on the sofa, staring blankly at the TV. The names don’t mean anything to her, but to me, each name means far too much.
I’m barely holding myself together, knowing I should be at their funerals. Knowing I failed to save them. There’s a mix of contempt and dread for Nikolai. I wonder if he even tried to move them. He knew, and what did he do? I remember what he said though, it was an army he didn’t control.
It’s only a matter of time before his name is spoken, added to the mounting death toll of the senseless murders between rival gangs, or so the reporter tells us on the flat-screen TV. Even the thought, forces me to choke on a dry sob, but I hold it down.
“Does this happen a lot?” Addison asks me, and I can feel her eyes on my back, but I don’t trust myself to look at her, so instead, I place the flat brush in the cup and watch the red pigment bleed into the water.
“No, not like this,” I answer her with my back to her. I am so used to death that it shouldn’t break me like this. But it’s the first time I tried to stop it.
And I failed.
“Do you need anything else?” Eli’s voice comes from the doorway to the stairwell and I peek up at him, but I don’t respond. He got me the paints from the corner store a few blocks down. The other things were in the package from Carter. I need a lot of things, I think. But as my lips pull down into a frown and my throat goes tight, I don’t look back at him. Instead, I just shake my head no.
I hate him for standing by and doing nothing while men are dying. I hate myself for hating him, which is even worse.
“I want to go get them myself,” I tell him as the thought hits me. I need to get out of here and go for a walk. I need to clear my head. I need something. I squeeze the cheap bristles over the cup before rinsing it again. “It would be nice to get some fresh air.” I’m surprised by how even my voice is and how in control I seem. It’s only because of Addison. If she weren’t here, I have no idea how I would react to tonight.
The metal ferrule that holds the bristles clinks softly on the side of the glass as I tap it and then set it down gently on the paper towel.
I finally look up again and Eli’s watching me closely. Addison’s looking between the two of us and the air is tense among all three of us. She doesn’t ask questions though and tonight, I can feel anger growing inside of me from her not wanting to know any more than whether or not this is normal.
“I want to go for a walk to the corner store, so I can buy a few things… please,” I say the last word through clenched teeth.
“Give me an hour,” Eli responds and then adds, “please.” He mocks me, but in a way I know is meant to ease the tension. It doesn’t though.
Giving him a tight smile, I nod once and watch him leave, although I still can’t find an even breath. Everything is tense, and nothing is right. I feel like I’m breaking down. I’m losing it every second I sit here, guarded and watching the list of deaths grow.
“Are you okay?” Addie asks me as the sound of Eli’s footsteps diminishes.
“No,” I answer her honestly.
I wanted to help my family, and Nikolai ignored me.
I told Carter I loved him, I chose to stay with him, and he left me.
I’m a fool. I’m a fucking fool.
I’m helpless, hopeless and I feel like I’m at my limit.
The sofa groans as Addie slips off of it and makes her way toward me. She’s quiet as she sits cross-legged next to me and leans in to give me a hug.
“I wish I knew what to say or do,” she consoles me in a quiet voice and I instantly regret the thoughts I had moments ago. I’m so eager to lash out, I could see her being the misguided target of my frustrations, but I would never forgive myself.
Grabbing on to her forearm and giving her a semblance of a hug back, I tell her, “I wish I knew too.”
Time passes slowly until she grabs the remote and turns off the TV. The click of the picture going black is louder than I’ve ever heard it before. I want it to stay on, so I’ll know what happened, but I’m grateful she turned it off because I can’t take any more.
“Do you want to talk?” she asks me, and I shake my head. I’m ashamed of how much of myself I give to Carter, only to have him hold back in return. I don’t think I could tell her without her hating him even more. And after the night she had with Daniel, I couldn’t do that to her.
“You could distract me and tell me what happened last night again,” I offer, feeling a swell of jealousy and pain grow in my chest. Last night, I felt used. For the first time, I felt used and foolish for loving him.
“It was just a good night,” Addie says, moving her hands to her lap. I know she doesn’t want to rub it in, so I just nod and let it go. I stare at the doorway as if Eli will magically appear and let me go outside. The thought makes me roll my eyes. I’m stupid to think I had any sense of control.
Before I can spiral down the path to self-pity that kept me up all last night, Addison asks me, “Do you want to read my tarot cards?”
I watch her chew on the inside of her cheek, waiting for an answer. I’m so grateful for her that I would do anything she asked right now. For the distraction, for the genuine friendship, and so I nod.
“Let’s do it,” I answer her.
With a deep breath, I scoot backward and turn to her, sitting opposite her and cross-legged too as she reaches behind her on the coffee table for the deck of cards Carter got me however long ago.
“Okay, what do I do?” Addison asks, placing the deck of cards in front of her and staring at them like they’ll magically shuffle themselves.
“Knock on them first,” I tell her in a deadpan tone, knowing full well she’s going to look up at me like I’m crazy.
“I’m serious,” I say again and nod to the cards, folding my own hands in my lap. “You have to knock on them to get rid of any previous readings and put your own energy into the cards.”
She does what I tell her, lifting the deck and knocking weakly on the back card although she’s grinning the entire time. Already I feel a thread better. Only a thread, but it’s one more than I had before.
“Now shuffle the deck and think about something you’d like insight to. Or don’t.” I shrug and stretch from where I’m sitting, feeling the ache from leaning over the canvases for the past few hours. Just glancing at them reminds me about everything and I’m quick to turn back to Addison.
“Is that enough?” she asks me, holding out the cards and I offer her a soft smile and then gesture to the deck. “Split them into three piles, however, you want, and then stack them on top of each other into one pile again.”
“Is this how it’s always done?” she asks me while doing as I say.
“No,” I tell her, feeling a deep ache in my chest. “I learned to read cards from my mother. But she didn’t do it like this.”
“Oh, how did she do it?” she asks me, and I have to grab the cards and look at them rather than in her eyes when I tell her, “I don’t remember. I just had to learn on my own when I decided I wanted to use her deck.”
It’s quiet for a moment, but she continues the conversation, steering it to a more positive side. “Are these hers?” she asks me as I lay out the cards one by one.
“No, these are ones that Carter got me.” Somehow that pulls even more emotion from me as I set the final card down. I don’t tell her that I was locked in a cell losing my mind when I was given these cards. And that Jase is the one who actually gave them to me. That day, or night, comes back to me and I nearly get sick.
“This is the horseshoe spread,” I tell her as I lay out the cards, refusing to fall backward; I won’t go backward. “The significator is in the center, but each place in this spread has a unique meaning and the seven other cards are spread in a horseshoe around it. The significator, this card, is basically you at this moment.”
“The four of wands is me?” she asks me although her eyes are on the card I’m currently touching the edges of.
I nod and then add, “There are four suits: the swords, the wands, the pentacles, also known as coins, and the cups. They each represent something different in life and the wands represent creativity. Swords are conflict, pentacles are money, thus also being called coins, and the cups are emotional wellbeing. More or less.
“The four of wands in this deck— “
“I feel like this is a professional reading,” Addison exclaims, barely holding in her excitement and I have to give her a small laugh.
“I’ve read a lot about cards. A few years ago, I thought it would bring me closer to my mother.” I wish I hadn’t said that last bit, but Addison doesn’t focus on the negative. Instead, she says, “Well, this is freaking awesome.” She reaches behind her for the glass of wine and then sits up at attention. “Please, continue.” She gestures comically and takes a sip of her wine.
I have to let out a snicker that’s almost a snort and remember where I left off. “Right,” I say out loud, “The four of wands. In this deck, the four of wands is a literal marriage.” As I say the last word, I breathe in deep, realizing how emotional Addison’s been and watch her reaction, but she only sips her wine and listens. It takes a lot of pressure off of me, so I continue.
Some people take the cards literally, but I have a feeling Addison won’t. She just wants a distraction, just as I do.
“The significator is a snapshot of who you are right now and the four of wands is a resting point. There’s been a sense of accomplishment, and there’s a sense of celebration over it, thus a marriage as the picture on the card. It’s a deeply happy card about solidifying some sense of community. Which may not seem at all like where you are in this moment,” I pause, feeling a wave of insecurity, but I continue, giving her the reading I think this card points to, “but it can also mean friendship, solidifying a friendship.”
“So, it’s us?” she asks me, and I try to keep my voice even and devoid of the intense emotion that rises inside of me when I tell her, “Yeah. I think this card is about us.”
Addison settles into her position, an elbow on each knee and tells me, “I like that.”
With a deep breath, I point to the first card of the seven that makes the horseshoe. “This is your immediate past and this card, the six of pentacles, is a card of generosity and harmony. It’s a card depicting someone who was in a good place with the in and outflow of their money, but it doesn’t always refer to money. It can also refer to charity and gracefully accepting or giving of money, time or safety.” I pause and swallow before adding, “Like how you helped me. That’s what this card could mean.”
Addison only nods and takes another sip of wine, so I keep going, moving through the motions rather than thanking her again and bringing up that awful night.
“The immediate present, the next card, is the priestess card. She’s a figure who has deep intuition.”
“What about the suits? What suit is she?” Addison interrupts and it’s only then that I really know she gives a fuck about the card reading or at least she’s paying attention.
“The suits are in the minor part of the deck; the major part of the deck has figures basically. So, they aren’t a part of the suits. There are basically two types of cards, suits, the minor cards, and then figures, the major cards.”
“Oh.” She nods and then clears her throat before looking at the other cards in the deck to see how many others are major cards and minor, I assume. “Okay, so the immediate present, is the priestess?”
I nod and then smirk as she adds, “I like that too. So far, this is a very likable reading.”
My shoulders shake with a huff of laughter as I continue. “The priestess is a person with deep intuition and she’s kind of a major arcana echo of the queen of wands. So, not only does she have a deep intuition about herself, but she has it about other people. In other cards, she’s pictured holding a mirror that she can point to herself or to others. She’s someone who has otherworldly energies and someone who can observe others for who they are. And also see what they need instinctually.”
“Like how I knew Daniel was the man he is?” Addison asks me in a flat tone as she pulls the sleeve of her shirt over her wrist and then wipes under her eyes. With my mouth parted, I’m shocked by her response and I struggle to answer her quickly enough. “Ignore me, I’m sorry.” She breathes in deeply and shakes out her wrists. “Sorry, I just had a moment.”
“It’s okay,” I barely speak the words and look back down at the card. “It could mean lots of things,” I tell her and then shrug. “Or nothing at all.”
“I knew,” she tells me with a grief that darkens her eyes. A sad smile graces her lips and she says, “Don’t stop, please. For the love of God, let’s move past that one.”
Clearing my throat, I move on to the next card, but then decide to move back to the priestess. “It could also mean that you know what people need and I don’t know your story, but knowing you, I would think you knew he needed you.” Addison stares at me with glassy eyes but only nods.
My place isn’t between them, so I move back the spread, to the third card in the horseshoe and the immediate future. “The king of wands is your immediate future. The kings in the deck are the last of the suits and they have control over the suits. The pages learn, the knights chase, the queen embodies and the king controls. And so, the king of wands is someone who’s able to understand and empathize with creativity and life, but he, himself, is not personally creative or spiritual in a really emphatic sense. Instead, he’s someone who works closely with creative or spiritual people, but he’s distant from them and that’s what makes him good at what he does. It’s the distance that allows him to be there for others, but it also prevents him from being a part of it.”
Struggling to place this card in the current context, I think back on other meanings for the card.
“The king of wands can also be a person who’s charismatic but reserved. Still waters run deep in this person, but he’s distant.”
“So, someone who’s controlling is coming?” Addison asks flatly and then snorts into her wine. “I didn’t need cards to tell me that one.”
I shake my head, knowing she’s referring to Carter or Daniel, but this card wouldn’t be either of them. It’s someone else. “Someone who’s distant and uninvolved,” I correct her and feel a chill run along my skin. It pricks every nerve and forces each small hair along my skin to stand on edge.
I can hear her swallow the wine and instead of asking who or considering the meaning, I simply keep going to the very bottom of the horseshoe and the fourth card. She doesn’t object.
“This card, your path, is the eight of swords. And in my deck at home…” I pause and almost regret saying home, but I don’t acknowledge it. Thankfully, Addison doesn’t press me. “In my mother’s deck, the eight of swords depicts Queen Guinevere, she’s tied to the stake and she’s going to be executed for infidelity. And the interesting thing about the eight of swords is that often you’ll see the woman is holding her own bindings around the pole. Different decks have different art though.” I take a moment to look at the deck that Carter got me and it’s not obvious in this card. “You can’t really see it here, but it looks like this woman is trapped to such a horrible fate in the eight of swords, but actually the only thing that’s trapping her is herself. She’s the one who has to be able to let go and free herself from her restraints.” I look at the card again and realize it doesn’t look like that on this deck and it’s the only deck I’ve ever seen where the bonds are truly tied. I continue though, refusing to let her think she’s tied inextricably to this fate.
“The woman in this card is not going to be rescued, but she’s not doomed to this terrible fate either. The only thing trapping her is herself. The good news is that she’s able to save herself; she’s not actually tied to the stake.”
I take a moment, thinking about everything as Addison finishes off her wine and doesn’t say a word. These cards could be for me. The idea that they are sends a shiver down my spine. Addison knocked on the cards, I remind myself. Without a word from Addison and not liking where my thoughts are headed, I continue.
“The perceptions of others is the next card, the fifth spot in the horseshoe. The knight of wands is your card in this spot. The knight of wands is all about deep fire and chasing. Do first, think later. They tend to be impulsive.”
Addison laughs into her empty glass as she twirls the stem of it between two fingers. “Sounds like that one could be true,” she says with a smile on her lips and I can’t help but smile too.
“The next card is the challenge to be faced and this is an interesting card to be sitting here.” I think out loud, not censoring anything. “The nine of cups is on the cusp of culminating happiness. It’s the difference between being engaged and being married. There’s anticipation that there’s something that’s still held back. And then the next card, the ten is complete happiness and marriage, nothing left to come.”
Addison nods all the while that I explain the card and I’m not sure how she’s perceiving it until she speaks.
“So, there’s still more to come? More that would make me happy?”
“Well this is the challenge card, so that’s the obstacle you’re facing.” My answer tugs her lips down and her gaze moves toward the cards. “So, the challenge here is that you’re almost there, but not quite and that’s where the tension is.” I don’t stop. I don’t want her to think about it right now, but I don’t think she’d tell me even if she had ideas of what the cards could mean.
“The final card is the outcome, and for you, it’s the queen of wands. She’s someone who is safe, confident and she’s able to empathize and nurture but she’s also powerful and creative in her own right. She’s someone who can wield power, but also stands on her own two feet. She’s the fiery enchantress.”
“That’s my final outcome? I get to be a fiery enchantress?” she jokes but I’m so relieved the reading seems to be ending on a happy note.
With a nod, I tell her, “Yes, Addie. You get to be the fiery enchantress.” I can’t keep my face straight as I tell her that.
“So, when does that happen?” she asks me, and I have to snort a laugh while smiling.
“The priestess in the present position means this person often holds this role. It’s also a major arcana card and that typically means it takes time, but it’s in the immediate present position. That means there’s something otherworldly about her, so she’s always carrying this inside of her. Everything else is minor arcana so that would mean days… maybe weeks. But probably days.” My gaze falls back to the king of wands and my blood chills. Someone is coming.
Addison smiles and bites down on the edge of her wine glass as she glances at the cards one last time.
Again, the king of wands is all I can see, and I’m focused so intently although I don’t want to be. He calls to me. The distanced man who’s coming and a chill flows down my spine in a way that feels like a nail raking down my back.
“If you’re done,” Eli’s voice breaks through my thoughts and I’ve never been more grateful.
“Yes,” I’m quick to tell him as Addison collects the cards, quickly putting them back on top of the deck. She seems to be just as absorbed with the card as well. I watch as she stacks all the cards neatly in the deck and puts him down last, right at the end of the deck.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Addison asks me as I push up off the floor, shaking out my hands and nerves, and try to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping along my skin. The tiny hairs at the back of my neck refuse to go unnoticed. They don’t leave me alone; even as I walk across the room and put the jean jacket on, the chill stays with me.
“I think I’m going to try to sleep then,” she tells me although I think she said it more to herself. She covers her face when she says, “I need that stuff, though.”
“The stuff?” I ask her to clarify as I stop a few feet from Eli and think back to the vial of sweet lullabies. The drug he gave me to sleep.
“Daniel gave it to me because I wasn’t sleeping, and I don’t know what I did with it.” She looks at the coffee table as if she left it there, but there’s nothing there.
“It gave me nightmares. The lullaby stuff.”
“That’s a shame,” she says with true pity. “I slept so well with it. And today has been…” she doesn’t finish, she only shakes her head. I can only imagine how she’s feeling. I know she wants to go back to Daniel. I could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice when she told me all about last night at breakfast. I know she loves him. And I think she could forgive him if he wouldn’t keep secrets from her anymore once this war has ended.
He’s kind to her. He wants her. And I know she wants him too. The only thing that stands in the way are the names the reporter keeps talking about on the television and the fact that Addison now knows Daniel has a hand in that tragedy.
“I was having nightmares before, so maybe that’s why?” I surmise and then shrug, pretending like the vision of my mother didn’t just take over my mind this second. I glance at Eli, still standing there a few feet away, looking straight ahead and waiting for me. Focusing on him and not on where my thoughts were going.
“Nightmares?” she asks, and I only nod as I swallow down the memory.
“I’m sorry,” Addie says, and I wish she didn’t. I don’t need more sympathy. Sympathy doesn’t do shit.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had them.” I know I have Carter to thank for that. “Anyway, there’s a vial that was in my bag in the drawer of my nightstand. If you want it,” I offer her, and she gives me a small smile.
“Thanks,” she tells me in a way that I know she’s truly grateful as she yawns and then stands graciously.
“Sleep well, Fiery Priestess,” I tell her with a small smile and watch as she picks up the cards off the floor and puts them on the coffee table.
“You too, Ria,” she tells me and uses the nickname only two other people have used for me all my life. She doesn’t see how my face blanches, but I’m able to fix it in time before she looks up at me with a sweet smile. “Ria, the card reader,” she adds to the nickname and smiles.
I leave without saying goodbye, but it doesn’t escape me that Eli keeps looking at me curiously because he saw how I reacted. Eli sees everything.
Tonight feels darker than the night before. Maybe because there aren’t any stars out, or maybe it’s just my perception. Either way, it’s pitch fucking black.
It’s colder too and as I huddle into the jacket, I find myself walking faster to get to the corner store that I saw a few shops down last night.
“You’re quiet,” Eli comments as the wind blows and my hair whips around my face. His faint accent comes through more now than I’ve heard before. I almost ask him about it, but my mind is spinning over the king of wands and who it could be. I always look too much into my cards… and that reading wasn’t even mine.
“I’m always quiet,” I answer him and when he gives me this charming, perfect smile, I nearly smile too. I watch him as he looks up to a house in the middle of the street and I know to wait when he does that, just like last night, so I do. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I breathe out and let the cool air flow over me, calming my anxiety.
“I had a girlfriend once who liked those cards. The reading ones.”
“Tarot cards,” I tell him as he rocks on his heels, still waiting at the edge of the street.
“Yeah, she liked to read mine, one a day, and tell me how my day was going to go.”
A simper pulls at my lips. “Was she right?” I ask him, and he huffs a laugh while shaking his head.
“She was so wrong that I could almost guarantee the opposite of whatever she said was actually going to happen.”
“They’re really just to get you thinking,” I tell him and ask, “Are you still together?”
He shakes his head and says, “She was fucking crazy.” A genuine laugh bubbles in my chest at the expression on his face, and for the first time today, I feel warmth flow through me. I feel real for a moment… until the reality of everything going on hits me hard in the center of my chest.
“You’re good at distractions,” I say while pulling my hair to the side as another breeze comes by. As I do, the sound of a car driving a street or two down catches my attention. “Thank you for that,” I add with as much sincerity as I can.
“I’m sorry you’re in the middle of this,” Eli offers me and all I can do is force a fake smile to my lips.
His earpiece buzzes with someone’s voice and I step forward, ready to continue but his large forearm blocks me. “We’re going back.” His voice is stern and offers no negotiation.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him feeling my heart race, and counting how many streets we’ve walked down. Three. It’s right around the corner and the safe house is only three streets away.
I can barely breathe as he tells me, “Now,” ignoring my question and wrapping his arm around my waist to quicken my steps.
I can’t keep up with his fast pace as my body catches fire with fear.
As the muted voices come through his earpiece again, I peek up at him, trying to listen, wanting to know what’s going on.
There was no one on the streets. Not a soul. What the hell happened?
Headlights come from my right. And between it all–the voices, the panic, the lights–I stumble, falling to the ground like a fool.
My knees and palms both hit a lawn hard as Eli tries to pull me along, cutting through the yard to head straight to the house, but I struggle to push him off of me, so I can stand up. I just want to stand up but he’s hurting me as he tries to pull me up.
The parked car to my right roars to life, its engine turning and the sound filling the night just as I hear guns firing.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The guns going off make me scream and my heart leaps into my throat.
“Stay down,” Eli grunts as he lies on top of me, covering me, but he doesn’t stay there for long. The bullets aren’t coming this way; they aren’t even close.
I can barely see Eli pull out his gun, the cold metal brushing my shoulder before he fires a shot at the car.
There are so many guns going off. Too many to count and I don’t know where they’re firing, but it’s not at me.
Some hit the car. I can hear them crunch into the metal. It pings and some bullets ricochet. Bullets hit the house Eli was looking at, the brick splintering and chips falling past the porch light as if snow is falling on this cold summer night.
Everything happens in slow motion as I peek up, the back of my head slamming into Eli’s chest as he fires at the car again, telling me to stay down, but I won’t. I need to know what’s going on. I keep low, but I refuse to cover my head and not find out what’s going on, so I can prepare myself if I have to.
There are four men in the car. I can see them clearly even though they’re dressed in all black and hoodies cover their faces. Two are still firing at the building, rapidly pulling the triggers. Men from the building are firing back. Bullet casings hit the ground and the tinkling distracts me as another round of bullets comes closer to us, aimed at another house with men in those windows firing too. We’re only separated from the car by a white picket fence that offers no protection and maybe three feet in a yard of grass.
The other two men who were in the car run as I take in the scene. Both of them run down the street to flee although they turn and fire, hiding behind cars and the brick fence. They’re running closer to us.
I don’t know the car they came from. I don’t know the men, but one of them running falls instantly, screaming in agony and grabbing his leg on the sidewalk, the bright red shining brightly as he’s bathed in the streetlight.
Bang.
He’s silenced and goes still. My heart races, my pulse thrumming so hard I can barely hear the gunshots anymore.
The smacking of shoes carries down the street louder than the gunshots.
“Stay quiet,” Eli tells me, intent on hiding as the fucker who’s running tries to get away.
He’s going to let him get away.
Anger and rage like I’ve never felt before war inside of me and it burns. It burns too bright. It burns too hot and I can’t stand it.
I don’t even know it’s my own scream as I rip the gun from Eli unexpectedly and run down the street toward the coward who fired at me and the men protecting me. The coward who hid and waited to attack me. I won’t fucking let him run.
I won’t let him get away. I fucking refuse.
My feet slam so hard on the ground that I feel the pain spike through my thighs. He’s only feet away from me and running faster, but he turns to fire at the building again, he slows and turns and that gives me a chance. With a deep intake of the cold air that pains my lungs, I lunge at him, seeing nothing but red.
His head crashes on the cement sidewalk and I hear his gun fall into the street and sounds like it hits metal… maybe a gutter. I didn’t recognize him farther away and I don’t know him now that I’m close up either. I don’t know who he is other than someone who attacked us.
Even as the metal slams into his skull, I don’t hear the gunshots stop. Even as the blood splatters onto my face, the heat of it nothing compared to the raging burn that flows through my own blood, I don’t hear Eli yelling for me.
I don’t stop, I can’t make myself stop pummeling his flesh with the butt of the gun. I can’t even see what I’m doing with the tears flowing down my face. I try punching him with the gun held in my hand and the metal clashes against the thin skin over my knuckles. It hurts, I know it does, but that only fuels me to do it again.
The footsteps are loud and they’re coming closer, but I can still feel the man beneath me shoving me away. His hands pushing against my chest, my face, anywhere until they stop to cover his face.
I pause for only a second and it’s a second too much as he reaches for the gun. Panicking, I lean forward, head-butting him and crashing my forehead against his nose. He screams out, but he doesn’t stop.
He’s still trying to reach for his gun and so I whip the butt of the gun in my hand down hard against his throat and his hot blood bubbles up from his lips as he coughs.
Strong hands grip my shoulders and then my arms, but I kick out, desperate to connect with the fucker who dared to wage war with men protecting me.
My left shoe hits his chin and his head snaps backward, bashing against the cement. Everything in my mind becomes a fog as Eli holds me close to him, telling me to calm down and dragging me away. All I can see is that man running away, getting away without any consequences while they escort me back, through the yards and straight back to where we came from.
It all happened so fast that I’m still breathing chaotically and shaking when Eli and another man, who helped him rip me away, bring me inside.
“Get her inside.” I hear Eli’s words, but they’re slurred as I struggle to breathe.
The air isn’t cold anymore. Nothing is cold. It’s all hot and I feel like I’m suffocating.
The second the bright light of the foyer hits me, I shove them away. I don’t want to be touched, I can’t be touched right now.
I refuse to talk to them, to listen to them telling me to stop and calm down.
Calm down? How can I calm down when this is what my life is?
“I’m tired of taking orders!” is all I can yell out, my voice raw from screaming. The memory of what I’ve done seeps in slowly as I rock on the floor. I was screaming. I didn’t realize it then, but I was screaming.
Every time I swallow, it hurts. My shoulders shudder and Eli tries to comfort me but I shove him away. Backing into the corner of the foyer, I’m only seeing the vision of me running after the man and fighting him.
Time passes slowly.
I steady my breathing and slowly calm down, watching my hands and willing them to stop shaking. There’s so much blood on them and I wipe them off on my pants, but that just spreads the blood.
I walk myself to my room, gripping on to the railing to keep me upright. Eli follows but stays a good distance behind. Carefully stripping out of the stained clothes, I step into the hot shower to wash the blood away, although my knuckles are raw and cut. It will take time for those to heal.
Maybe an hour passes, and I spend the entire time in the shower. When I’m clean, I walk downstairs and open the front door to the house to see Eli, the other man, and two others standing guard.
All I want to know is his name. I want the name of that man. I don’t know why it matters as much as it does, but I need to know his name.
I know I look foolish with wet hair that clings to my face and pajamas on, but still, I speak up.
“Who is it?” I ask Eli as I stand in the light of the foyer, and he stays on the other side of the doorway, bathed in darkness. “What’s the man’s name?”
“We’ll find out soon and I’ll tell you immediately,” he answers me, and it only makes me angrier. How can he not know? It still hurts when I swallow and hurts, even more, when I clench my hands into fists at my side.
“Where is he?” I ask Eli with my teeth clenched, “I’ll beat it out of him myself.” The rage I feel is unjustified and I know I’m out of control and crossing a line, but I don’t care about boundaries anymore. Not when everyone else crosses them.
The silence is only broken by the chirp of crickets from beyond the yard. There are three men in front of me and no one answers me.
I can hear Eli swallow as the other men stare at me, and still, no one answers.
“Where is he?” I repeat myself, ready to tell them to go fuck themselves if they refuse to tell me. I don’t care what Carter ordered. I don’t care if I’m their enemy or they think I’m just being babysat. “I need to know his name!”
“He’s dead, Aria.” Eli’s voice is softer than I expected, and I have to take in a shuddering breath. His gaze is assessing, but comforting. “He died.”
My eyes flicker over his and then dart to the other men. “Who killed him?” My voice is full of both shock and remorse for speaking to him like that, along with everything else. As time moves forward, I seem to come down, to ground myself again. As if blinking finally removed the red rage that blinded me.
One man steps to the side, another whispers something on the porch, but Eli’s voice brings my attention back to him.
He answers me, “You did.”
