“I—I—uh,” she stuttered around her words. I kept my eyes locked on the blood-drenched body underneath me. My nostril’s flaring in rage.
“Just tell me? Be honest with me.” Clenching my fists so tightly, my knuckles glowed a bright white.
“Since I was four,” she whispered through the tightness of her throat.
My chest tightened, stomach coiled as anger pulsed through my veins, pumping ruthless adrenaline through me at epic speeds.
“Let me finish him,” I growled out, turning my head toward her over my shoulder.
“Okay,” she answered hoarsely.
Wrapping my hands around his neck, my hands slipped around his skin from the slickness of blood that was covering him. I grasped his head tightly and twisted it until I feel it snap in the palm of my hands. Relief flooded through my body, relief that this girl would not have to put up with this man ever again.
Getting up, I reached into my pocket and took out my keys, handing them over to her. “Go to my room. Don’t talk to anyone. Go there now. Do you understand?”
For the first time since I’d seen her, I noticed the little things. Like the way her blue eyes were the brightest shade of blue I’d ever seen, and they seemed a little too big for her face. Or how her heart shaped face was wrapped in milky silk skin. My fingers twitched as my mind wondered how it would feel to run my hand over her cheek which held a natural blush. Her cherry colored lips formed an O making two deep dimples pop out as she looked between the body and me.
Fuck me. She’s beautiful under the emptiness that taints her eyes.
She had to be young, way too young for me to be thinking about those cherry lips. I couldn’t come back for her.
“Can I see you?” she asked, tilting her head.
I grasped onto the rim of my hoodie that covered half of my face and pulled it down to the back of my neck.
Her big blue eyes examined me, narrowing in some places. When her blush deepened, I pulled the hoodie back over my face.
“You need to go. Now. I will wait until it’s dark outside to take care of the body, but you need to go next door and wait for me.” I pushed the keys into the palm of her cold, soft hand. “Now!” I urged her.
She winced and I internally swore at myself. That was not what I wanted to do, but she needed to leave. Her back turned to me as she walked toward the door. Grasping the handle in her hand, she turned to me over her shoulder and whispered, “Thank you,” before walking out and shutting the door behind her.
Once the door closed, I took out my phone from my pocket and dialed Hella. There’s no way I could shift this sack of shit on the back of my bike.
Seven Years After The Meet
Walking down the busy streets of downtown Manhattan after training, I was thankful for everything that had pulled me through my sleepless nights. Since I’d been in New York, I’d been doing archery. It’d given me the strength that I needed to get me through, to remind myself that I was in control now. No-one knew about my past. I wasn’t ready to share that with anyone yet, but when I was, my best friend Phoebe would be the first person I would confide in. She’s everything a girl could want in a best friend, despite the fact that she was raised within a motorcycle club. She’s extremely compassionate, loyal and loving. I wanted to tell her a little about my past because I knew it killed her every time I shut myself off. The vibration of my phone in my pocket pulled me out of my thoughts. I answered it with a smile, knowing that it was Phoebe. She and I have been inseparable since she saved me from getting my handbag taken by a homeless man on the side of the street. It was my first week in NYC, and I was trying to find an apartment in my price range to rent that was around NYU when she stopped the whole ordeal. She was a tough little cookie. I later found out that she was raised within a motorcycle club which explained a lot.
“Hey, what do you want for dinner?” I asked, bringing my sunglasses down over my eyes and trying not to bump into the large amount of bodies that were hurrying about their daily duties.
“Um… homemade burgers?”
“Fine,” I rolled my eyes. “But we’re eating whole-wheat buns, no mayo, and no ground beef patties. Steak or chicken breast burgers. Pick…”
“You take the fun out of homemade burgers, Meads. Steak. Get extra. Melissa is coming down.” Melissa is Phoebe’s best friend from Westbeach. She was around five foot three, long blonde hair with sun-kissed skin. We got on well, but I’d only been around her when Phoebe was around.
“Can’t help it. I’ll see you soon.” I hung up my phone and continued my way back to our apartment that sat right in the center of midtown Manhattan. It was a modest, small, two bedroom apartment that overlooked the town. It was perfect.