Ten(10)

These insights allowed me to see what I didn’t like about the young man I was before prison. He was a fool for thinking he could escape being a Moore, and for thinking there was light in his dark world. For loving Alexandria Murphy.




“So I need a place to crash for a while.” Six asks dipping his head and shrugging his shoulders appearing almost embarrassed to ask. Well, it’s more a statement than a question and he pulls me from my thoughts.

I hate that he got out with no one to pick him up. His Mom died during childbirth. She was a sixteen-year-old runaway, and he went straight into the system and was bounced from place to place until he was fifteen, and he found his own way in life by joining a gang, which became his family. He doesn’t talk much about them but I know he left that life when he went to prison and has no desire to go back.

“You have a room with me for however long you need it,” I tell him, filling his shot glass and tapping it.

I’ve been staying in the apartment above the bar, even though I have my uncle’s house to go back to if I want to. He’s moved in with his latest lay and put the house in my name as requested by my father. Fuck knows why, I hate that place. It overlooks memories of her.

“I have a house I’m not using. Come up to my office. I’ll get you the keys and Jude can take you there. Tomorrow I’ll sort you out a ride.”

“I’d like to work. I don’t expect handouts.”

I smile and slap him on the shoulder. “We can sort that out tomorrow too, but tonight, let’s get fucking drunk.”

I grab the bottle from the counter and gesture for him to follow me upstairs.





Dry toast sucks! Why didn’t I pick up some butter? I miserably gnaw on the toast I made from the fresh loaf I bought yesterday, and sigh at the mess still surrounding me. I made some progress last night and managed to get Jonah’s room completely cleared. Just the rest of the house to go. I moan internally, throwing the half eaten toast into the trashcan. I grab my keys and make a run to the store for more trash liners and much needed butter. I feel more tender today then I did yesterday, but used some makeup to cover the mess left on my face. DJ wants to Face time later so I needed to see if the bruise is noticeable with cover up on. It is, but not as bad, and if I wear my hair down I can use that as a barrier as well. Damn, I miss him so much. I’m not used to spending time away from him. Since I was seventeen, all it had ever been was he and I. Mom helped out but she eventually started living her own life.

DJ came as a shock, turning my world upside down, but he was also the saving grace. He helped me survive losing Dalton. I still remember that day and relive it over and over in my nightmares.

“I’m in trouble.” Jonah’s dark brows slanted into a frown. His eyes were watery and his jaw trembled as he took a couple of deep breaths before continuing. My stomach dropped with fear for him. “I need you to talk to Dalton. Tell him that if I come to him, he needs to help me.”

My lips parted in surprise. “Why would he listen to me? You’re his best friend; of course he would help you. Tell me what’s going on, Jonah. You’re scaring me.”

“I know about you two, Alex. Don’t treat me like a fool.” His hands reached out and squeezed the tops of my arms in a fierce grip. The skin pinched, causing me to whimper. He was going to find out soon enough anyway, but the pit in my stomach opened up. I didn’t want to be alone when he found out. Jonah was so volatile lately, his grip on me was growing fragile, and he knew it.

My fear grew with each passing beat of my heart that he didn’t speak. I’d planned to make sure Dalton was around when I told him, but now here I was alone with him and he already knew. How long had he known?

“I hate it, Alex. I hate that you betrayed me. Both of you fucking betrayed me. He was my best friend. I trusted him, and you two have been doing all this shit behind my back.”

“We love each other, Jonah. We didn’t do this to hurt you.”

I was forced back by his heavy shove, and landed on the bed behind me. “You didn’t think about me at all! You were slutting yourself out to him like some Moore whore, and he was lapping it up behind my back, laughing at me.”

The pain of his words sliced into me. I knew the hurt was alive and vivid in my eyes as water filled them. “I’m not a Moore’s whore, Jonah!”

I wept and then gasped when his body moved over mine, pinning me beneath him. A shiver of panic swept through me when his hand covered my mouth, and the anger radiating from his intense stare and the strong force of his body kept mine from moving. Looking anxiously towards the bedroom door, willing my parents to come through it, my thoughts turned dark and disturbing when I felt a bulge against the apex of my thighs. Just the thought of it shattered something inside me that would never rebuild. I’d never recover.

Please don’t let this be happening

Who is this person? What’s happening?

“No, you’re not a fucking Moore, you’re a Murphy! You want to act like a whore? I’ll treat you like one.” His tone became emotionless, and it chilled me to the core of my being.

The butterfly wallpaper coating every wall pulls me from the hand grabbing at my panties.

“Fly away with me,” I sang in my mind, as tears soaked my cheeks and my scream was a muted hum against the hard, callous palm covering my mouth. The pain of his knees digging in my thighs as he tried to part them was excruciating. I was five feet two and dainty, and he was a giant in comparison. My mind became hazy as the reality of the situation planted itself like a virus in my heart. My big brother was trying to rape me. How could this be happening?

The news I discovered earlier was being washed away with the terror of what was happening in my childhood bed at the hands of my protector. If I closed my eyes and then opened them, would I awake from the nightmare? If I held my breath would I die? Then no one would ever have to know this happened to me.

All of a sudden cold air washed over me and the weight holding me down was gone. My body reacted before I realized. I moved, and within a blink of an eye I was huddled into a tight ball, my arms wrapping around my legs as I hugged them against my chest, my chin resting on my knees.

“Fuck. Fuck, Alex. I …I’m so sorry,” Jonah cried, pulling at tufts of his hair and pacing in front of my bed

My body convulsed with tremors I couldn’t control. I didn’t know why he stopped but the relief that he did brought uncontrollable sobs to tear from inside me.

“Don’t cry. Damn, I …” He stepped towards me and my hands shot out in front of me to signal him to stop. My head shook from side to side in a frantic motion. “I won’t hurt you,” he says, bewilderment etched into his features.

My breath hitched and my eyes widened, causing the sting from the tears to burn. “You did hurt me, Jonah. Are you crazy?” I screamed, gaining a confidence in my tone that my body lacked in action.

“I’m fucked up.” He shook his head and a tear leaked from his eye.

Despite the hurt, disgust, and fear jumbled inside me, my heart weakened when he dropped to the floor and began to cry. Who was this person harboring the body of my brother?

“You have to tell Dalton to help me,” he sobbed.

My mind couldn’t cope with the distraught boy in front of me who - minutes ago - tried to sexually assault his baby sister. I searched his eyes anxiously for the meaning behind his words but I knew it was the drugs. He was so freaking high it transformed him into a monster, and if that was the help he needed then Dalton wouldn’t be enough to help him. He needed rehab. With my insides still clenched with dread and fear, I bolted for the bedroom door, nearly falling down the stairs as I stumbled down them two at a time. I didn’t even close the door behind me as I darted across our lawn and up the steps into Dalton’s house.

I’m startled when I realize I’ve been sitting in my car but not moving, lost once again in memories of the past. A noise from across the street… from Dalton’s house… draws my attention. A young woman is giggling as she bounces down the steps. She’s definitely doing the walk of shame, only she doesn’t look ashamed; not one bit. Her hair is messy and unbrushed, her skirt so short I can see she’s pantyless with every step she takes. Gross. Make-up is smeared over her face. I slowly graze my eyes up the pathway and steps to the man standing in the doorway. A little bit of me is uncertain whether Dalton will be standing there, and my heart thumps heavily in my chest.

Long, jean-clad legs, narrow hips leading up into a huge torso, defined and painted in artwork. Broad shoulders, thick neck, full lips, and brown intense eyes. The guy from the bakery?

I stare at him for around five minutes before realizing he’s gazing straight back at me. I look away, embarrassed, berating myself for acting like a creeper. I’m about to drive away when he steps in front of my car. He places his hands on the hood and stares at me through the window. I’m stunned and don’t know what to do, so I get out and shrug my shoulders before raising my hand and saying, “Hi.”

Pathetic.

“Are you following me?” he asks. His tone is much deeper and more intimidating than the one he used yesterday. He must read the confusion on my face because he stands to his full height and crosses his arms over his chest. “Why were you watching the house?”