Chapter 14 Free
Free
CADE
Idon’t think it’s possible to feel pain at this point.
My muscles are torn, my bones are shattered, and now my heart is split in pieces.
My mind has completely detached from my body.
At this moment, I’m simply a running corpse, following Bunny down a single, empty corridor.
There’s no fire in my lungs or depletion in my chest. I could keep going, I fear, sprinting into the void. But it ends.
Of course, it fucking does.
“Fuck,” Bunny breathes, glaring helplessly at the blank wall.
Her hands join mine on the solid surface, pushing and slapping, hoping for a miracle.
In the quiet, her gasping, inflated chest rises and falls in panic.
Somewhere in the hidden corners of my mind, I know I should help her, but it takes me a moment to get there.
“There has to be something,” she cries, bottom lip quivering.
“There has to be something.” In pure desperation, Bunny launches herself into the walls, bones and skull thumping on impact.
The vibrancy of her blood splashing on the wall is enough to jar me out of my stupor.
Refusing just to sit back while she hurls herself forward, I join in, adding my blood to the mix.
For a solid minute or two, it’s just Bunny and me throwing ourselves into walls one after another.
Even if we do succeed in busting through one of them, it won’t be with all of our skin and joints intact.
Over our grunts and moans, Bunny whisper-cries, “This isn’t working. ” So, we try together—one more time.
Steadying ourselves, we move as one, attacking the wall in front of us with wild, uncontrollable rage. I can see it on her face and feel it on my own that we didn’t expect much—and then it falls. Right before our eyes, the wall tumbles to the ground, blowing up in a pile of dust and fragments.
Stomach in knots, we stare into a bright and cheery kitchen, trying to digest something so foreign from what we’ve come to know—vibrant walls, wooden details, the smell of lemon—as if it were freshly cleaned.
“What the fuck?” This is the gateway to hell.
Swaying, Bunny, and I steady our breath, but on the next exhale, we book it, flying over the debris and out of a plastic screen door, running for our lives.
“Help!” Bunny shouts. “Help!”
But I’m too caught up in the smell of fresh air to utter a single word.
Oxygen flows into my lungs, and it’s nothing like the stale, dry air hidden beneath the earth.
It doesn’t taste like ventilation and smell like the sweat and blood of all the men and boys surrounding me.
This air is clean and sharp, pinching and swelling the nerves inside my nose.
Beneath my bare feet, splinters of weeds and dead grass dig into me.
I have a lot of scars on my body, a lot of unhealed wounds that need tending to, but my feet have been untouched by anything but a semi-smooth ground.
Yes, the cellars were stony, but over time, our feet wore down the points.
I feel the pricks in my skin now, though, and it’s not like the pain I’ve grown accustomed to.
This is different—alive. It reminds me I am, too.
I’m stuck on that feeling when Bunny finally stops before me. “What the fuck?” she snaps, glaring out into the defeating oblivion.
There’s nothing.
There are no buildings.
There are no people.
We’re all alone.
I don’t know if it’s the weight of having no one to turn to or pure exhaustion, but Bunny and I sink forward, hunched underneath a crowded highway.
The chill of the night sinks beneath our flesh, turning our insides into sharp blades of ice.
How long has it been since I’ve felt this way?
I didn’t realize how much I missed being cold.
Bringing me back into reality, Bunny pulls at me. “We have to go.”
She’s right, of course. We can’t just stand out here. Undoubtedly, someone is coming after us. For all we know, they might not be too far behind. Without words, I nod and follow after her, only allowing us to get a few hundred feet before I stop her underneath a lamp.
“Wait,” I order when she tries to keep going, leading her somewhere dark.
I touch her chest when I pin her against a brick wall, breathing through the rush of blood to my cock.
Out of arousal or anxiety, Bunny stays still for me, granting me the opportunity to explore her soft curves while I feel for the chip they shot into her.
I leave no piece of her untouched, pretending not to hear her sharp inhales whenever I brush the soft, delicate skin of her inner thighs. I pretend not to see her slick center, either. However, I will keep it in mind for later.
When my knees hit the spindly ground, she anchors herself to me automatically, practically shoving herself in my face while I lift her leg softly. “I found it,” I whisper, rubbing her pebbled skin.
Looking down at me, one hand in my hair, the other holding onto the wall for dear life, Bunny whispers, “Found what?”
“Your tracker.” I wonder if she knew it was there. She must have. It’s not like Marone felt the need to do anything in secret.
Before Bunny can ask any questions, I whip my blade out quickly, cleaning the crust off the best I can before holding it to her bone. Bruises and scars covered her entire body. I hate to be the one to mar the only untouched skin she has left.
The panic I was hoping she wouldn’t feel enters her widening glare right before she attempts to pull away from me. “Wait!” She shrieks in fear.
But I hope to calm her. I hope I can do that for her. “Shh…” I hiss, promising. “It’s okay. I’ll be gentle.” As gently as I can.
Bringing her leg higher to rest on my shoulder, I give her a quick squeeze, hoping she can trust me when she sees the sincerity in my eyes. “Relax,” I remind before thrusting the blade down. I aim to slice her open swiftly enough that it doesn’t hurt too badly, and she can’t back away in terror.
Once the chip is out, I throw it somewhere behind me and press forcefully against the wound, staunching the bleeding while I tear off a piece of my tattered shirt.
The dingy white cloth instantly became flooded, sopping up so much blood that it turned black.
I’ve had to wrap enough of my own lesions to know how to do this properly—here and at home.
Still, eventually, I know that a makeshift bandage won’t be enough.
Carefully, I release her, helping her place her foot on the ground.
She studies my work while I feel around my neck, remembering the subtle pain of when it was placed.
Before I can second-guess anything or worry that I’m too close to an artery, I split my skin, fighting my whimpers while I dig my fingers around my exposed muscle.
By the time Bunny looks up, I’m panting and throwing the device in an alternate direction.
They may not buy our separation act, but a little confusion won’t hurt.
Tearing off another segment of my shirt, I press it against my neck, fighting a losing battle to stay conscious. “We gotta go.”
Together, Bunny and I look like we just crawled out of the grave, covered in split flesh, muscle exposed… bodies a medley of colors. We looked fucked up—in desperate need of help. But who would stop for us looking like this?
Shivering, we both blow out icy breaths, fighting the unbearable chill that has washed over us. Time and time again, we lose to the blowing wind, falling on busted knees. Just as the rain begins to pour and I’m ready to say fuck it, just let us die here, a light glows in the haze, exposing life.
“We have to stop!” Bunny screams over the storm, staring at me with pinched eyes.
I glare at her with dread—and a bit of horror. Stop? When we’re this fucking close to that fucking hellhole? No fucking way! Who the fuck knows what lies at the end of this road?
With all the possibilities on my mind, I shake my head. “We can’t stop now!”
“Cade—”
“Bunny—” I snarl, “No!”
But this stubborn little shit roars in return. “Cade!” And I can tell there’s no room to fucking argue. She’s tired and beaten, and if I deny her a chance to rest, her glare promises my death. “It’s raining. We’re bleeding. We’re hurting. We’re fucking tired. We need to stop!”
I can’t put you somewhere that’s going to hurt you. I can’t lose you, too. But— “Fine,” I give in, preparing myself to protect her at any cost. “But there’s no way we can explain how we look if we run into anybody.”
“A car accident,” Bunny proclaims. “That’s all we say until we know who we can trust.”
Fine. “The first shelter we find. That’s where we’ll stay.” I expected a desolate shack, hoped for a rundown apartment building, something empty. But, fuck, a motel? A fucking running motel.
“Well, fuck.” Damn fucking shit motherfucking FUCK!
The Honeymoon Inn. It's a cute, quaint little establishment.
Just like that fucking kitchen.
One was the cover to something sinister. I can’t help but feel like this might be too, especially with the cars randomly parked.
“What now?” Bunny asks, folding in on herself, her hunched spine acting as a shield from the storm. I follow her form, bending lower to press my forehead against hers, losing myself for a moment in her eyes.
It’s easy to do that, I realize. I’ve done it quite often at this point.
“I don’t know.” I don’t know what to do next. I’m racking my brain, trying to come up with a solution that’s going to get us out of this safely, when an older woman with crazed blue hair joins us in the rain.
“You two alright?” She calls loudly, shielding her eyes with a curved hand. “You need help?”
Being locked up and paraded for so long, you learn to recognize when someone is studying you. There’s a feeling that washes across your skin.
Like oil.
It leaves you slick and grimy—unable to feel clean.