Chapter 12
I think I might kill someone.
Mickey? That sick fuck who challenged me to fight his fighter six years ago, and when I won, I watched him punch his guy. The way he spoke to him…
No. Fuck. That.
“Nothing, nothing. I shouldn’t… I need to leave,” Roxie sits up abruptly, pushing the blanket off and pushing to standing, just like I am.
And I’m in fucking awe.
Here she is, bruised and battered, definitely has a concussion and all this emotional shit we’ve just barely scratched the surface of, and she’s still standing tall. Shoulders back and her head held fucking high like there should be a crown perched on top.
A crown for a queen.
My queen.
“No, Roxie. You’re hurt, you’re staying here where Asher and I can help you.” I have to get her to stay. I watched her walk away from me once, I don’t think I’d survive a second time.
“I can’t. Thank you, that’s the sweetest thing for even offering after all this time, but no. I can’t.” Her dark eyes hold more than just careful words and the pain she’s in. There’s fear there. She’s terrified.
And it puts me on edge.
“What does he have on you?” My voice is low and dark, I’m not fucking around anymore. I need to know what I’m going to—gladly—walk into if it means that she’s free.
“Mind your own business, Ty. You’ve done it just fine for six years, don’t start worrying about me now,” she snaps at me, throwing those words at me like I was the one that left. Like I was the one who chose not to email.
“Excuse me?”
Roxie sighs roughly and I can hear the exhaustion, the need to push me away in that one noise. She’s annoyingly self-sacrificial apparently. While it’s something I appreciate and relate to, at this moment, it’s working against us.
“Ty,” she starts again, her voice catching in her throat and her body trembling slightly from standing so long. “There’s… I’ve had to do things to survive. I owe a debt and I don’t know if I’ll ever be free. You don’t want that in your life.”
She’s speaking like she’s already got one foot out the door again and I lose my mind.
“Wait, Roxie.” I grab her hand, holding it in mine, the sparks that I felt six years ago are even stronger now. “You don’t get to decide for me. You shouldn’t have back then. I… I would’ve helped you in any way I could, and I still will. I still want to. All you have to do is let me.”
She pauses, her eyes trained onto our hands like she’s just as affected by the touch as I am.
Roxie looks up at me through her eyelashes slowly, like each inch she raises her eyes to look into mine is a fight.
“You don’t know what you’re asking. You don’t know what war you’re offering to take on.”
I step forward hesitantly, making sure the closeness is welcomed before I step fully into her space.
“Rox, I’ll be completely and totally honest with you.
But I need you to be honest with me, okay?
” My dark eyes meet hers in resolute honesty.
She takes a small breath and nods. “Okay. Listen to me clearly when I say this; I want you here. I want whatever trouble you think you’re going to bring as long as it means that you’re free.
I’ll take on whatever I need to, walk through whatever fire, knock out whoever I need to, to make sure you’re free to do what you want, not what you’re forced to do. ”
“Ty,” Roxie gasps slightly, her breath hitching. “I don’t know what to tell you…”
“All of it, Roxie. Tell me all of it.”
“When I left, they didn’t have a family set up for me to go to, so I got to spend a night in the Social Services office using my bag as a pillow.
The next day, my agent drove me all the way to Oaktown in silence.
I knew something was up when she started apologizing and telling me it would only be a little while.
That once I turned eighteen, I’d be out and she’d help me.
That’s when I knew it would be fucking awful. ”
I grit my teeth, steel myself to truly hear what she’s saying and what she’s going to tell.
“The Franks are…” she grimaces, her nose scrunching up in the process. “They’re pretty disgusting. You know Mickey, he’s awful. Can you imagine the people who made him?”
Gross.
“Mickey runs the house, runs the show. They're basically zombies in front of their TV’s all day every day and don’t care what he does as long as the bills are paid and they have as much food as they want going down their gullet.” She sighs heavily and the frustration is palpable.
“Mickey Frank,” I grumble, my voice dark and dangerous.
I can’t believe this fucker. I know the shit he’s into, the way The Underground is his biggest profiteer.
He deals his drugs, makes his bets, usually has a prize fighter he overworks, he sells women, fakes, anything and everything to make a buck.
He’s the wannabe thug who has more secrets and pull than he should have.
“Yeah, Mickey Frank.”
“You’re his new fighter.”
“I am his…possession, until I can pay him back.” Her face drops, hiding from my sight as she confesses.
“What do you owe him for?”
“The Franks, they let Mickey do everything, decide everything, run everything in the house as well. Mickey was—is—in charge of everything. When I eat, when I sleep, when I get water, when I got to go to school, all of it. And one day he saw me fighting some kid in the parking lot for taking the few dollars I had, and he realized I could actually fight. He tightened the belt, stopped feeding me almost all together.”
The way she speaks…it’s like this is still happening to her. I want to drive the four hours to Oaktown and kill him. I want him to feel every inch of rage in my body and have him choke on it all. I want my knuckles to scream in pain as the break because I hit him so fucking hard.
Grinding my teeth, I force myself to shift in my seat so she doesn’t see how utterly murderous I’ve become.
“What happened?” I ask softly, not to push her to share, but to show her that I’m still here. I’m still sitting right here with her and am not going to judge.
“I…I stole what I needed from the corner store. Little things, here and there, just enough to get by. But one day, I was feeling more confident and I took something I shouldn’t have.
I got cocky and didn’t check the camera placement.
I didn’t think a watch would have an alarm on the back.
But this one, it did.” She sighs, running a red, swollen hand through her hair.
“They caught me, tucked me into a police cruiser pretty quickly and I… I just gave up. Anywhere was better than there, honestly. But just as I think I’m getting booked, Mickey walks in with a sick fucking grin on his face and tells me it’s time to go. ”
My stomach drops and I shake my head.
“What?” I whisper the word like it’s pierced my own chest with shock and fear.
“He paid my bail. All two thousand dollars of it. He paid my bail and paid off the store to not press charges so I’m now about seven grand in debt to him.”
Seven thousand…
That’s a shit-ton of money, but it doesn’t deter me.
“How long have you been “working” for him?” I ask, using my fingers to do air quotes because what she’s doing isn’t working… It’s chasing her tail and every time she gets close, he pulls it back further.
“Since I was seventeen.”
“Oh my god,” I groan, the words leaving me like a gut punch.
“I know! That’s why I need to leave! I need to get out of here before he comes and finds me only to get you ensnared in this fucking mess,” she cries, tears pooling in her eyes as she breaks.
“Roxie, no!” I grab both of her hands and pull them to my chest, holding her tightly. “I lost you once, it’s not happening again.”
“You don’t understand!” she cries at me, struggling against my hold. If I thought she wasn’t serious about leaving, I’d let her go, but I can see it in her eyes, she only needs one push and she’ll disappear into the air.
“I do!” I match her volume. “I do, Roxie. I understand. You’re trying to protect me again, and I’m not letting it happen this time.”
“Think about this. Really think about this, Ty. You’re not just risking yourself. You’re risking Asher, your family, anything and everything you’ve built, for what? A girl you knew six years ago? I’m not the same girl!”
“And you think I’m the same guy, baby? Time changes us all, but the one thing that did not change about me?
You. The weight of you is fucking etched into my skin where your head laid on me that last night.
You’re tied to me like this cord is; tired, but true as hell.
” I move both of her hands into one of mine, and reach into my pocket to pull out my wallet.
“If I didn’t care, if I wasn’t still completely and totally hung up on you, would I still carry this around? ”
Slowly, with a steadying breath because I’m about to bare my fucking soul to the girl I’ve been halfway in love with since the day she left me, I take out the drawing I made of her.
That night in the clearing. It’s old, worn down from me holding it, the pencil lines are smudged, but it’s still her.
Her peaceful, sleeping face smiling softly in the dark.
“Where did you get this?” She asks, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
“I drew it that night in the clearing. It’s old and I’m so much better at drawing now. I’ve recreated this drawing more times than I can count, but I keep this one. This one means the world to me,” I whisper softly, putting all my intention behind my voice.
Roxie traces the picture softly, reverently, the other hand covering her dropped jaw as she continues to stare.
“Do you see now?” I whisper, leaning in closer.
Her eyes look up to mine, the dark brown irises of hers meeting mine. Roxie has a light ring of gold around the dark brown while mine are completely dark. No light to be seen.
“Ty,” she whispers, and I can see the brokenness within.
My god, carino. Let me help you, let me keep you.
She swallows a lump in her throat, and I wait on bated breath—hoping, bleeding, praying, that she doesn’t use this to run.