23. Harden
I mastered the feeling of acting like nothing is wrong from a very young age.
Yeah I have my limits, hardships, things I can’t endure, but the blank mask I can pull to my face within a second is something I have always prided myself on.
For years I have been crumbling inside, my walls so damaged that I know they will never be rebuilt, but I never expected this.
Grief is something I’m familiar with. I lost my dad at a young age, and even though I didn’t understand it at the time, I felt it.
His absence is ingrained in me, it’s what changed everything, and I can’t count how many times I wished she would take his place.
That it was her who died instead of him.
So why is it that now that my wish is granted, I don’t feel any better?
How many times did I hope she would disappear?
How many times did I pray for her downfall?
How many times did I imagine squeezing her neck until I heard it snap?
The answer?
Not enough.
Not for all her crimes. Not for all the innocent touches that were anything but.
Not for all the nights she came into my room and treated me like her fucking toy instead of her son.
Yet still my chest aches with a weight of grief I can’t even describe, feeling emotions I thought were long burned and buried.
Not for her. Never for her . But for me.
I’m grieving the boy who once loved his parents, I’m grieving the happiness I felt before she ever touched me that way, and I’m grieving the person I would have become if I were never tainted by her.
All that wasted potential.
What would my life be like now if she never ruined it?
What would I be like now if she never ruined me?
She may be dead, I may be free, but I’ll forever remain in the cage of her making until I am burning in hell beside her.
My only wish is that I was the one who killed her.
But that’s okay, I know exactly who did.
After the funeral I needed space, I needed to not look at the pain and heartbreak in my three best friend’s eyes, as I finally confessed my sins.
So I ran, like the coward I am, like the coward I’ve always been.
I spent the first night in my car at The Underground, hoping he would show, but he didn’t, then I went to his house, but his brother said I’d just missed him.
It wasn't until this afternoon, when I hunted down Wilder, that I found out where he was.
Which is how I find myself in Black Hallows, the town built on more blood and money than I could ever comprehend, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he likes to visit frequently.
I pull my car into the lot by the gym on the south side of town and turn off the engine, my hands flexing around the wheel at the thought of what I’m about to do.
The South Side Pit opened a couple of years ago, and focuses on getting underprivileged kids off the streets and away from bad shit, while also teaching them how to protect themselves.
The CEO of one of the charities Aurora’s mom donates to is married to one of the owners of the gym, and I remember her talking about what a great project it was.
And I’m sure she’s right, but right now I don’t give a fuck who owns it or how good it is.
No, I’m only here for him.
It’s early evening and the gym looks like it’s closed to the public, but the lights are still on inside and the door isn’t locked.
When I push inside, I’m assaulted with the smell of sweat and the sound of multiple fists smashing against something, and I follow the direction of my senses until I see him.
Caden Miles is wearing nothing but black workout shorts, his fists are wrapped in frayed bandages, as he delivers blow after blow to his opponent.
The tall blond guy across from him is just as ripped, taking every one of his hits and throwing back more of his own, as if he feels nothing.
I thought I’d seen the look of a killer in Caden, but the other guy has the stare and stance of someone who has wiped lesser men out for fun, and he doesn’t look much older than me.
They’re evenly matched in skill level and both dripping in sweat, even though they show no signs of stopping any time soon.
It’s only now I realize this must be where Caden comes to calm down and let out his energy, just like I do when I go to the track.
My eyes flick behind them and find two other blond guys fighting.
The more proper looking one of the two screams money, and even though his eyes are soulless, he looks as if he stepped out of a five thousand dollar suit to be here.
Even the large angel tattoo that covers his chest, and the scars that litter his torso, aren’t enough to convince me his blood isn’t pure royal blue.
That’s a rich motherfucker if I’ve ever seen one.
The other one is his polar opposite, and even though he’s probably just as rich, he wasn’t born with it like the other guy, no, he had to fight for it.
There is a reckless sort of look in his eyes that reminds me of Griffin, and he fights like he was born doing it, much to the others’ dismay.
His shaggy hair is pulled back into a ponytail and his entire upper torso, arms, and what I can see of his legs, are covered in colorful tattoos.
He’s taunting his opponent with every hit, and pissing him off while doing it.
It’s entertaining and I could watch this all night, but I have things to do.
I bring my focus back to Caden, erasing the distance between us, and just as he springs onto his back foot, I slam my fist into the side of his jaw, knocking him to the floor.
The three other guys all turn their focus to me, as Caden flicks his eyes up to meet mine, his stare going from fury to understanding.
And that’s all it takes, that one look, and I know I’m right, he did it.
The guy he was fighting takes a step toward me, but Caden’s hand flies up, halting him in place. “I got it, Lincoln,” he tells him, spitting blood to the floor, before he rises to his feet.
“You had no fucking right,” I seethe quietly, but Caden only smirks.
“Well, look who finally found his voice,” he chuckles darkly, his tongue darting out to capture the blood now trickling on his lips, as the other two start fighting again. “Come on, Haze, we both know I did you a favor.”
A favor. A fucking favor.
It wasn’t your choice to make. I sign and he rolls his eyes.
“You’re right, it was your choice, but she took that from you, didn’t she?
” he snaps back, his words sounding like the cold killer I now know him to be.
“Excuse me for evening the fucking playing field for you, Haze. I got rid of her because I knew you couldn’t, and now you’re free, so you’re welcome. ”
It makes me sick how true his words are.
“I haven’t been free since the day she first touched me, and I’m not free now,” I reply quietly, as the reckless one of the two still fighting curses, as the angel tattooed one catches him in the face.
I feel the weight of the guy he called Lincoln staring between us, before he settles on Caden. “Did you kill someone?” he asks, as casual as asking what day it is, and none of them flinch at his question, as if it’s the norm here.
Caden nods, not caring about any repercussions, and holding my stare as he replies with the same amount of ease. “I murdered his mom.”
The two guys behind him stumble at his words.
Lincoln’s gaze is on me now and I meet his stare for the first time, finding not just understanding, but a flicker of amusement too.
“Did she deserve it?” he questions, and this time when Caden nods, I nod with him.
“How did you do it?” he adds, that flicker burning even brighter, as if he’s desperate for the details.
Caden holds my stare quietly before answering, and I know what he’s looking for. He’s wondering if I know, if I read the pages and pages of the police report, which I did, but still I need to hear him say it.
“I broke into her house when I knew she was alone, she was upstairs getting ready for bed with some bullshit podcast playing. I walked into the bathroom and smashed her face into the mirror, startling her, before using my knife to subdue her into the bedroom. I tied her up and then took my time breaking her. First, I cut off each one of her fingers, then I sliced off her lips and tongue, before moving to her tits and pussy. Once that was done she had basically bled out, but still, I slit her throat and cut out her heart for good measure.”
All of his words are said without emotion, without remorse, and for some reason my hand itches to hit him again.
“Nice,” Lincoln grunts in response, and my eyes begin to burn.
Because it should have been me.
I should have cut off the fingers that touched me, I should have sliced off the lips that told me how good I was, and I should have cut out the heart of the woman who loved me too much.
Her death wasn’t yours to take, her sins weren’t yours to claim, and my trauma wasn’t yours to try and erase. I tell him, my fingers shaking as I sign the words, and for the first time since I got here, I see something like regret in his stare.
It’s not regret in killing her, it’s regret for not letting me do it with him.
I was the one who suffered in the dark, I was the one who couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t fucking speak for fear it would only get worse.
And how? How could it have gotten any worse?
I was living in my worst fucking nightmares every single day I spent in that house, and my only saving grace was hockey, the guys, and Aurora.
If it weren’t for them, I would have taken a razor to my wrists and let myself bleed until I could feel nothing but the cold release of my death.
Some days I think I still might. Only then will I be free of her.
It was a burden I was glad to steal. He signs back, and as I look into the dead stare always present in his eyes, I know he’s right.
Because as much as I hate her, as much as I hate what she did, I could never bring myself to hate her more than I hate myself. I never would have been able to kill her, because she had already killed me.
Blood once again trickles from his mouth and I track it slowly, before signing, I’m sorry for hitting you.
Caden smirks, as his bandaged hand swipes at the red display, his eyes gleaming as he takes it in with a shrug. “Don’t be, your right hook is almost as good as your right turns,” he grunts, as the two guys behind him really start to ramp up their fighting.
The princely looking one slams the other to the ground, his hand around his throat, before the other one elbows him in the ribs and kicks him off, flipping from his back to his feet.
They are both bleeding but still look ready to kill one another, and I can’t help but look back at Lincoln, who only shrugs.
“Don’t mind them, they hate each other sometimes,” he muses with a smirk, his stare transfixed on the angel tattoo that now gleams with sweat.
“Come on, Dark Prince, fun’s over,” he calls, and that's all it takes to have the proper looking one of the two retreating from the fight and heading our way.
“So pussy-whipped now, Ash,” the reckless tattooed one calls out to his back, but the other only smiles.
“Get fucked, Conrad,” he tosses back, not sparing him another look.
The second he reaches us, Lincoln grabs him by the throat and pulls him against him, their sweaty bodies colliding as he kisses him roughly, before he pulls back and licks the blood off his lip.
The one he called Dark Prince only smirks, the soulless look in his eyes subsiding for the first time since I got here.
“I thought you said the fun was over,” he grunts at Lincoln, whose eyes only darken with need at his words.
“It’s time for a different kind of fun now, baby,” Lincoln murmurs, pulling him back in and claiming his mouth once more, not caring about their audience, and all I can do is stare.
Their display causes a visceral reaction inside of me, as my entire body comes to life. It floods my brain with thoughts I’ve been trying to ignore for weeks now, for years if I’m being truly honest with myself, and I find myself transfixed.
“If there’s nothing else, you better leave, or else you’ll be forced to watch them fuck,” Caden grumbles, gesturing to the other guy to see if he’s up for a round with him, to which he nods, before turning back to my now lingering form.
“Unless that’s your thing,” he adds, and my eyes snap back to him to find him smirking at me.
I turn and leave the gym before I’m tempted to punch him again.