Ramshackle (Raegan of Ruin #3)

6. Raegan

Chapter six

Raegan

I’m losing my mind.

I can’t say the exact moment when the shift started to happen, but weeks of physical exhaustion, of working myself to my breaking point each day, followed by Gordon’s voice in my head for hours each night, will apparently wear me down no matter how much I try to fight it.

I feel like I’m still me, albeit a hollow, tired version. But I’ve been catching myself repeating some of Gordon’s words to myself every now and again. Once I realize what I’ve done, I quickly argue it and try to convince myself why it isn’t true. It makes me wonder if there are times I say the words and don’t catch it, just letting them live in my mind and believing them.

And then I wonder if arguing with myself makes me a crazy person.

Ever since the water tank was added to my routine, I’ve tried to counterbalance it every night in bed before I let myself go to sleep.

I think of Jackson. I’ll stare at the tattoo on my forearm, touching it to remind myself that it’s real. That his love for me was real. He took on an entire city of corrupt GE members on his own for me. We promised each other there would be no sacrifices. I’m sure he’s furious with me right now. I repeat the words tattooed on my arm over and over again as a reminder to myself of why I can’t give in.

I think of Kellan. Of his promises to me and how he swore he would never let me go again. I picture the look on his face when he told me not to go with Jack. How much pain was there when I went with him anyway, leaving him behind. And then doing it again through the portal while Holt had him trapped.

I think of Aiden. Of what happened in the locker room and how that somehow felt like the most honest, real moment between the two of us. And then how his face dropped when I lied to him that it didn’t mean anything to me. I was hurt and angry, but I hear you see things more clearly when looking back. Something was happening between us, but I ruined it before it had a chance to unfold.

I think of Dane. I hope he’s able to sway Vera back to their side so they can be happy together again. I hope she reads his notebook. We had just worked out peace between us, and I wanted to earn his trust back. Did this do it?

And, of course, I remember Elias and Portia. I swore an oath to destroy GE so she can return home.

I run through these memories every night before falling asleep, hoping they’ll be enough for me to keep my head and my heart away from Gordon.

But after weeks on end with no improvement in sight, I’m worried that I’m losing this battle.

The guests that Gordon spoke of finally showed up a few weeks ago. It’s a chance for allies against GE. Or even just someone to talk to who isn’t Gordon, Holt, or myself.

One morning, the dining hall that had been an eerie, echoing room by myself, was filled with two dozen others. The ages ranged from children to pre-teens, with the oldest-looking one probably a decade younger than me.

It reminds me of my younger years with the guys on the island. Back in our earlier days when the school and training seemed like something fun and cool. There’s no sign of fear or anger riding them as they chatter excitedly amongst themselves.

At least, there was no fear until they noticed I had walked in the room.

Trying to sit or talk with any of them was pointless after the third table got up and left. A clear buffer of tables surrounded whichever table I sat at. They whispered behind my back or shot looks of fear my way if I so much as looked at them.

She’s dangerous .

I couldn’t hear what they said but could feel it nonetheless.

Fucking Gordon.

So, even with a room full of people now at breakfast, I still sit alone in my own table-sized bubble weeks later. I tried at first to eavesdrop and learn what I could, maybe see if I could work my way into a conversation or someone’s favor. But when all those attempts failed miserably, I stopped trying.

I stab my fork into the scrambled eggs and start in on my plate. If nothing else, I like the buzz of chatter around me when I eat now rather than the awkward silence I’d had to deal with before. I can almost pretend I’m not alone during meal times, even though these people may as well be back in the States for how close they are to me.

A plate appears on my table a few seats down, and I stop eating to look up. I’m half-expecting it to be Holt, coming to insult me to warm me up for Gordon this morning.

A little girl sits there without a word. Her blonde hair is straight with mild waves, and there’s a headband pushing the hair back from her face. She’s wearing a purple dress that looks more like dress-up than everyday wear.

She finally looks at me with her big blue eyes. “Are you a bad guy?”

I swallow the egg still in my mouth. “I’m sorry?”

The girl shrugs and starts picking at her plate. “It’s what everyone’s saying. That you’re bad and scary and to stay away from you. But I’ve been watching you, and you haven’t done anything scary. So, I think they’re wrong and wanted to come and see. Do you think you’re a bad guy?”

Talk about a loaded question. But I remind myself that she’s just a little kid and to keep it simple. Do I think, at my core, I’m a bad person? “No. I don’t.”

She smiles at me and nods. “Me neither.”

“What’s your name?” I ask, returning to my eggs while she devours her pancakes.

“Mallory. What’s yours?”

“Raegan. How old are you, Mallory?”

“Six,” she answers with her mouth stuffed.

I nod and take another bite of my eggs. “Do you know why you’re here?” I keep my voice calm and mildly curious. I have no idea if she experienced any trauma before coming here or if she’s oblivious to it all.

Mallory chugs some orange juice and then sets it firmly back on the table with a loud knock. “Yeah. My parents said there’s something wrong with me. I think I’m sick. So, they sent me to these doctors who said they’ll make me better. And then I can go home.”

I bite my tongue. Sick. And her parents willingly dropped her off with strangers and let them take her thousands of miles away?

Were the parents tricked or did they know that they’d never see their daughter again?

“Why do you think you’re sick?”

She looks around the room and then leans forward across the table to whisper conspiratorially. I mimic her to hear the apparent secret. “Sometimes, when I get really excited or upset, my eyes change color. Or my hair.”

I sit back in my seat and subconsciously rub at the collar around my neck. It’s been wearing my skin raw while in the water tank and after, so I catch myself bleeding every now and again. At this rate, I’ll have a scar around my neck.

“That sounds pretty cool, though.”

Mallory’s eyes widen, and then she curls a bit into herself.

“Don’t you think?” I prompt her when she doesn’t answer.

She nods shyly, and I smile.

Her parents probably freaked over it and told her it was wrong, so she never got to enjoy her gift. Of all the gifts I’ve seen, her parents should be counted as lucky that hers is starting so small and doesn’t do any actual damage.

“Well, I need to head out for training, but maybe I’ll see you again at lunch?”

Mallory looks up and smiles at me. “Sure.”

I return her smile and stand while picking up my things.

At least I’ve made one friend here. She’s no fighter, but maybe she can help keep my mind grounded.

My mouth turns down into a frown when I walk into the indoor training room we’ve been using the last week and I see other people in there. I was already in a bit of a mood after Mallory was a no-show for lunch today. We’ve been sitting with each other for over a week now, and it’s the first time she hasn’t come. That’s already worrisome, but now, seeing strangers in the room?

Gordon smiles at me when he sees me arrive.

Another red flag.

Holt flanks him, his arms crossed over his chest and face flat.

The other people are three males, all wearing regular clothes, bound and gagged in chairs in the middle of the room. I don’t recognize any of them if they are some of the other guests on the island, but I guess I wouldn’t really unless they were Mallory.

“You’re progressing well, pet. It’s time we switch up our training. Pick one of the three and use your gift. See if you can focus it on a specific body part.” Gordon pulls up his stopwatch in his hand and presses some of the side buttons. “Hurry up and stand in front of the one you’re going to start with.”

My blood chills at his words. No. Not again. “No,” I tell him, my hands clenching to stop the tremor of what I know will be coming next. “I’m not killing or torturing people for you again. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

His face contorts with rage. “No? No? ” He closes the distance between us and roughly pinches my face with one hand. “How mouthy you’ve become, pet. Shall I put your mouth to better use again like I had to last time? It was always shoddy work, but I’ll make the sacrifice to re-teach you the lesson of the only thing your mouth is good for. And talking back isn’t it.”

I’m shaking from the memories, tears pricking the corners of my eyes, but I don’t look away from him. “Do what you want with me, Gordon. But I’m not killing anyone again. Not for you.”

He buries a fist in my gut, shoving any oxygen out as I keel over for what his grip on my face allows. Then he throws me the rest of the way to the ground. His boot presses down on the side of my face so I’m pinned between it and the cold, lacquered wood floor.

“You’ll do whatever I tell you to, pet. That was the deal. I don’t want to hear another thing out of your mouth unless it’s ‘Yes, sir’.” The pressure intensifies, and I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut at the pain. “I need to know that you’ll follow any and every order I give you without hesitation. This is just a test , pet. And one you will not fail me on.”

His foot disappears, and I curl in on myself, protecting my gut and trying to recapture the oxygen I lost.

“Bring her in,” Gordon orders someone.

I hear a door opening and closing and then two sets of steps approaching us. It’s easy to tell which set of steps belongs to Holt. They’re heavy and loud. The other set is far quieter.

“You think I didn’t notice you getting friendly with someone else?” My heart lodges in my throat. I force myself to look up off the floor at who Holt brought in, hoping that I’m wrong. “Did you really think you could do anything here that I wouldn’t find out about?” Gordon laughs cruelly right as I look up at Mallory’s tear-streaked face.

He aims his gun at her, and she screams and thrashes in Holt’s grip. “Noooo! Let me go! Please! I’ll do anything! Please !”

Her cries hit me in the gut, twisting until I’m sick to my stomach.

“Get up,” he barks at me.

I do what he asks. If it was me, I could refuse. But I can’t risk her life.

Once I’m on my feet, he reaches over with his free hand to use the ring on one finger that releases the lock on my collar. Then he yanks it off. “Now, go kill them.”

I would think that Gordon couldn’t shock me anymore, but once again, I’m reminded of what a monster he is. “But you said—”

“What did I say about talking back?” he snaps. “You lost your chance at just working on your gift. Now, you’re going to prove to me that you can follow orders and kill all three of them simply because I am telling you to.”

I start to shake my head, and then a gunshot fires, and my heart leaps from my chest. “No!” I look over to Mallory, where she’s collapsed on the ground, and run to her. “Mallory!” I lift her in my lap, searching her body for the bullet to see where she was hit. My hands keep checking for any sign of blood, but when there is none, I glance up and see Holt smirking at me.

“What’s the matter with you?!” I scream up at him.

“She fainted,” he answers, his annoying lips still curled like this is all an entertaining show for him to watch.

I give Mallory another once-over to be sure that he isn’t lying before Gordon decides I’ve had enough time to learn that he must have purposefully missed to scare the shit out of me.

“That was a warning shot. You now have”—he thumbs a button on the stopwatch—“one minute to kill all three of them before I kill the girl.”

A minute?!

Is it fair to kill three people for the loss of one?

But it’s a little girl. She still has her whole life ahead of her. I know her. Her hopes. Her dreams. About her parents and her pet dog. How she hates math and history, but loves science.

“Fifty. Forty-nine,” Gordon calls out when I’m still frozen in my spot. He walks up to us, aiming the gun at her head while still counting down.

Fuck.

I have no idea who these people are or why Gordon has them, but I can’t let Mallory die because of me. Because she took the chance to be my friend when everyone else was too scared to even look my way. She’s the final piece of my sanity, keeping me from giving in. If I lose her, I’ll have no one to keep me grounded and remind me of who I am.

I’m sure Gordon knows this. Maybe he’s hoping I’ll fail so he can kill that last part of me with her death.

I almost forgot that I was never meant to be a hero. I’ve always been a villain.

“Thirty-two. Thirty-one.”

I set her down gently and then run over to the others. Turning on my gift is barely a second’s thought now as its invisible flames burn and lick down my arms at the ready. I grab two at a time. I do it from the front so I can see them. So I can remember what I did and try to etch their faces into my memory if I can ever find out who they were one day.

They scream in my grasp, but all I can hear is Gordon’s countdown continuing behind me and telling me that I’m running out of time. I push my gift deeper into the person in the middle, shoving it beyond them and into the floor until it climbs up the chair of the third person and starts eating away at them from their feet and legs. My gift works its way all the way up before I bring it to full power.

I step back when I know they’re all gone. “Well done,” Gordon commends from behind me. “But…”

I turn frantically. Did I not make it in time? Gordon’s lip curls when he sees the tears on my face, but I look past him to Mallory on the floor.

There’s another gunshot, and then a scream tears from my throat at the blinding, white-hot pain in my knee. I crumple to the floor in an instant as the pain ricochets throughout my body.

Holt comes up from behind me, and my collar is snapped back in place.

“That’s for your insolence. We’ll end training here for today. Holt, take her back to her room. If she behaves, we’ll have a healer look at her knee.”

I’m faintly aware of being lifted into the brute’s arms before the pain becomes too much, and I lose consciousness.