Chapter 3 #2
Owning it was bittersweet—a reminder of the last cherished moments she had with him. He had been kind and thoughtful, she couldn't help but think life would be much easier for her and her mother if he were still around. She just couldn't bring herself to get rid of it.
The engine roared to life; its rich purr soothed her frayed nerves.
Mynx locked the doors and glanced outside, cranking the defrost to full blast, feeling the day's tension beginning to melt away.
The windows fogged up from the cool rain meeting the warm night air, it would take a moment for them to clear.
The heat made the car feel like a sauna; thick moisture clung to her skin uncomfortably.
She caught her reflection in the rearview mirror; streaks of black eyeliner ran down her cheeks. She reached into the center console, grabbed some paper napkins, and wiped her face clean. Then she used the crumpled napkins to wipe at the windshield, hoping to clear it more quickly.
"No dice," she muttered, tossing them to the floorboard with a sigh.
She rested her head in her hand, eyes heavy. If she closed them for more than a second, she'd be gone. Sleep wasn't rest anymore. It was an escape. Instead, she lifted her head, rolled her neck, trying to coax the tension out of her shoulders.
It didn't help much. But it was something. And lately, something had to be enough.
Saturdays were always the busiest nights of the week and today was no exception.
One of the day-shift girls, Sugar, had texted Jimmy this morning to say she couldn't make it.
As a result, she had to cover a double shift.
He had pulled his usual "I'll fire you" card, threatening her job if she didn't show up for the sixteen-hour shift.
It was infuriating; he knew better than anyone how much she needed the job.
At least Jimmy let me leave first tonight.
Mynx's phone buzzed. Quinn. Her best friend from high school. It was too late for casual calls. Still, she answered.
"Hey girl," Mynx said, trying to sound light. "What have you been up to? Don't you have class tomorrow?"
"Hey, Mynxie. I'm good. I ran into Cyndi at the grocery store tonight. She mentioned your mom's not doing well." A pause. "I know it's been a minute. I just wanted to check in. See how you're holding up, see if maybe you're coming back to school soon?"
Mynx had been a full-time student at Culver City University, set to graduate in May. But life had other plans. Dropping out and becoming a dancer was the only way to keep the bills paid.
Mynx swallowed before answering. "I wish I could say yes. But you're right—Mom's not doing well, she's fighting stage four lung cancer. We're past the point of treatment now. Just trying to keep her comfortable."
"Oh, Mynx… I'm so sorry. If there's anything I can do, please don't hesitate to call me. I love your mom. She was like a second mother to me growing up."
Mynx took a breath, pushing back the tears. "I will. She loves you, too, Quinn. Don't be a stranger—come by sometime."
Quinn hesitated. "My dad said he saw your father down at the track last week. Said he didn't look that great either. Is he sick, too? I can only imagine how you must feel right now. Are you okay?"
"I'm managing," Mynx said quietly. "It's been rough.
As for my dad… I wouldn't know. His drinking and gambling have been out of control for a while.
He left not long after Mom's diagnosis. In my heart, I want to believe he left to find money for her bills.
But honestly? We haven't seen him in months. "
"That's awful. I don't know how you're managing it all alone," Quinn said, her laugh soft, trying to ease the weight between them. "I can barely make it to class on time."
Mynx smiled faintly, but her voice stayed steady.
"Cyndi's been the spine of the house while I'm working.
She handles appointments and medications, keeping Mom well cared for while I work double shifts to cover our bills.
If she hadn't stepped up, I'd be drowning. I thank God for her every single day."
"Well, like I said, I'm here if you need me, Mynx, just call, okay. Everybody needs a friend to talk to every once in a while, even if their lives have drifted apart a bit. I'm still here, and so are you. Don't forget that, okay. I need to go to bed. Can I talk to you soon?"
"Yeah— soon maybe we can grab coffee or something."
"Sure, hit me up this weekend. Later, girl." The line disconnected
Thinking about her father always left her in a foul mood.
The man her mother loved faded slowly and painfully over the last two years.
She often wondered why her mom stayed. It may be easier for her to ignore than to confront the issue.
Maybe love had turned into obligation. The gambling was the worst. Strangers knocked on their door, asking for him by name.
She wasn't naive. He owed money—real money to multiple loan sharks.
At least once a month, he came home bruised—a black eye, a split lip, once even a cast on his arm until he stopped coming home altogether.
He offered excuses. Always implausible. Always hollow. And still, Mynx's mother stayed with him. It was just the three of them now, and they'd adjusted, even found some happiness.
Pulling into the driveway, Mynx saw the porch light on.
Cyndi always remembered to leave it on. She has the heart of an angel.
She brushed her still-damp blonde hair out of her face and pulled it into a ponytail before grabbing her bag and heading inside.
The flower beds flanking the porch entrance were a sad sight.
Once her mom's pride and joy, the blooms had withered into blackened, shriveled husks dangling precariously from dried-out stems. She sighed. They looked like she felt.
"Sorry, little guys," she murmured, "I just didn't have time for you."
Before climbing the steps to the house, she bent down to remove her shoes.
The cool, wet concrete of the sidewalk soothed the pads of her sore feet as she stood barefoot, gazing up at the night sky.
Only a few stars managed to shine through the congested clouds.
The moon, shadowed in red, hung ominously, adding to her weariness.
Turning back to the house, she ascended the stairs and quietly opened the front door, careful not to wake the two women she hoped were sleeping inside. It was two a.m. and Cyndi needed to be up for school in just four hours.
She walked on her tiptoes, trying to avoid the creaky floorboards that betrayed her every step. But her foot landed squarely on the worst one, and the resounding creak made her mutter under her breath.
"Shit—"
A large stack of mail sat on the table. Mynx leafed through it quickly, spotting several envelopes stamped with Final Notice.
With a sigh, she tossed them back onto the pile, resolving to deal with the mess in the morning.
Balancing bills to avoid shutoffs had become a monthly ritual she dreaded but couldn't escape.
Right now, though, she needed food desperately.
The light salad she'd eaten at lunch had long ago become a distant memory.
She went to the kitchen, pulling sandwich ingredients from the fridge and retrieving bread from the cabinet.
As she spread mayonnaise across the bread, sadness washed over her.
It was like this most nights when she came home: no one to talk to, just a silent house to tiptoe through before retreating under her blankets, hiding from the world cocooned in their safety.
Her dreams were her only escape from reality these days.
Hearing from Quinn was nice, but it also made her question her current situation.
How long has it been since I last went on a date?
Chatted aimlessly on the phone? Laughed over cheap wine and bad advice during a girls' night?
Too long. So long, the memories felt borrowed—like they belonged to someone else.
My friends faded, one by one, until silence became my default.
I don't blame them. Not really. Grief has a way of thinning the room.
Maybe she and Quinn could spend more time together.
The thoughts cracked her heart just a little, creating minor fractures in a long line of breaks that slowly tried to erode her spirit. Quinn's call offered a small sliver of hope that she could have any life aside from her family.
A light flicked on in the living room. Mynx's stomach sank. She hadn't meant to wake anyone.
She closed the sandwich and slid the knife into the sink. She peeked around the corner into the living room. Her head barely cleared the frame before it collided—hard—with a chest.
A massive one. A wall of muscle. A beast of a man.
She gasped—but his hand was already there. Fast. Deliberate. Clamping over her mouth before the sound could escape. Something about him seemed familiar; she just couldn't put her finger on it.
"Don't scream."
Mynx nodded, her wide eyes glued to him in stunned disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest. His command was firm—like steel.
Her gaze darted around the room; the weight of the situation reflected within it hit her like a freight train.
Her father sat slumped in an armchair, bound with rope and gagged with duct tape.
His face was a mess of dried blood; bruises had begun spreading in unnatural shades of black and purple across it.
Tears streaked down his cheeks, and his entire body trembled under the weight of his fear.
Cyndi looked equally scared on the loveseat, her small frame shaking in silent sobs.
A massive man had one beefy arm draped around her shoulders, holding her captive.
Mynx knew him, Stoker; he was always at the club.
In fact, he was the one who brought her that drink last week from the masked man she'd slept with.
She looked at the man in front of her. He must be the guy with the mask. He looked different now without it. More serious, still hot as fuck.