Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
My phone buzzed, and I reluctantly let go of Joy’s hand, darkness filling me at the words on the screen. It was time to deal with the motherfuckers that did this to Hannah and Joy. Kayla, their third roommate, was still high out of her fucking mind on heroine and being dealt with by Leo’s men.
With the utmost care, I ghosted a kiss over Joy’s round cheek right over her dimple, then forced myself to leave her.
Justice had to be served, and I was just the man to do it.
Chapter 2
My dry mouth tasted like it had been coated with the contents of an ashtray. I stared at myself in the massive mirror that stood over two black marble sinks before looking away and trying to distract myself from my battered state by examining the bathroom. Slate tiles adorned the floor, bordered by a complex mosaic of brass, coral, and turquoise glass tiles. The place reeked of wealth and elegance, a lovely space that I would normally have admired, but right now I was just trying to keep myself from freaking the hell out.
I looked like I’d been in a car crash.
Felt like it, too.
After I lifted the edge of the bandage covering the wound on my head with a wince, I gasped when I saw the damage. Nausea filled my mouth with spit as I examined the jagged cut running from my temple into my shaved hairline, the tiny black stitches making my skin crawl. They’d had to shave a small section in order to stitch the cut, eleven in all, and I was thankful my crazy blonde hair was fluffy enough to hide the damage.
One time, when I was fifteen and bored with Hannah during a sleepover, we’d brushed my hair out until it stood up in this crazy blonde afro, reminding me of the fluff on a dandelion.
The memory of my friend, of that night, helped to ground me, and I managed to shake off my growing panic. Crap, how long had I been in here, staring at the mirror? When I’d awoken, a very nice old Hispanic lady named Juanita helped me to the bathroom after making sure I was okay on my own. At first, I’d been confused, utterly unable to remember how I’d gotten into this luxurious place. Once I’d relieved myself, I finally gathered the courage to look into the mirror so I could figure out why my head hurt so bad. The fragmented memories had come rushing back as I remembered the terror that filled me as that man, Ray, beat the shit out of me.
An unwanted flash of memory seared through me like a bullet—the blinding blast of light and pain that had accompanied being struck across the head twice with the butt of a gun left me whimpering. Pain flared along my ribs as I gasped, and my hands went to my sore sides, the agony of being helpless to defend myself as I was kicked repeatedly fresh in my mind.
The pathetic sounds escaping me echoed through the bedroom as I braced my shaking hands on the edge of the sink and looked down into the drain, away from my shattered expression.
Okay, wherever I was, I was safe. And if I was safe, Hannah was probably safe as well. God, please let her be safe.
Fucking Kayla. My idiotic roommate had brought home her drug dealer and his friends. And not just any drug dealer. No, Kayla had to bring a drug dealer who was evidently mortal enemies with Leo Brass, Hannah’s boyfriend, into our home. How I wished I hadn’t told those men she was Leo’s girlfriend. As soon as I said those words, trying to scare Manny off because Leo was a scary dude, I knew I’d made a mistake. The thought of that dreadful moment of silence as they all looked at me still made me shake and my throat fill with acid. There was no life in their eyes, only evil.
The knowledge that people as evil as they were truly existed fucked with my sense of reality. Never in my life would I have imagined anyone would beat me up. While I fought with my siblings, I’ve never been really hurt before. I mean, I’ve broken bones and had the usual childhood injuries…but being beaten was different. Those blows didn’t just hurt my body, they destroyed my naive belief that the world was a good, safe place.
The things Ray said he were going to do to me…to film while he tortured me? God, hadn’t he said something about cutting me open and fucking my heart? I rushed over to the toilet just in time to throw up the bitter bile from my heaving stomach.
“Oh, mija.” An older woman’s lightly accented voice came from behind me as I lay over the rim of the toilet and wanted to just die. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. You have a mild concussion and may feel out of sorts for a bit. You’re on pain medication, but you’re due for another dose soon, but let me know if you feel like you need it now. There’s no reason for you to needlessly suffer.”