Battered & Broken (Lactin Brotherhood: Broken Boys #3)

Chapter 1

CEDRIC

I didn't know what time it was, but it didn’t really matter.

Sitting in the corner of my couch with my thighs pressed to my chest, I just wanted the night to be over. There was a clock on the wall by the front door, but looking at it required moving my head, and I wasn't ready to do that yet.

The paramedics had already come and gone after asking me a million questions. They wanted to take me to the hospital, but I refused to go. I knew what was wrong and how to fix it. I just didn’t have the strength to do it on my own.

I didn’t know how to be on my own.

My apartment was full of people I didn't know, and it was starting to freak me out. So many strangers moving through the space where I lived and taking pictures of my walls made me feel invisible. I kinda wanted to be invisible.

Someone had put a blanket over my shoulders at some point, but it slid off, and I didn’t bother fixing it. Why would I? Being a little chilly was the least of my problems.

One of the officers crouched in front of me with a notepad and a sad smile. "Mr. Allen. You hanging in there?"

I looked at him and sighed. “Yeah.”

“Can I ask you to tell me what happened one more time? I just want to make sure I didn’t miss any details?”

“I guess.” I'd gone through every detail of the attack several times already, and each time I said the words out loud, they felt less like something that happened to me and more like something I'd read about or watched on TV.

When he was finally satisfied that my story wasn’t changing, he went over to his partner while I put my forehead on my knees and did my best to tune everyone out. Eventually, they’d leave too, and I’d have some decisions to make.

Most likely, bad ones. Those were my specialty.

After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. It was already open, so the newcomer was asking permission to enter rather than barging in like everyone else. I lifted my head, afraid it was Mitch coming back to finish me off.

A man stood in the doorway who wasn’t in a uniform or flashing a badge.

It took a moment for me to realize where I'd seen him before. He lived in the apartment at the end of the hall, the one facing mine. We passed each other at the mailboxes and in the elevator, but I wasn’t sure we’d ever said a single word to each other.

But now I couldn’t remember why I’d never even tried to flirt with him.

He was attractive and had a face that was trustworthy and kind. But that was my answer right there. I didn’t go for nice guys who treated me like a human. I went for assholes who used me and abused me. Literally.

But it was getting old. I was getting old.

Not in age but in fight. I just didn’t have it in me anymore.

Finding the meanest-looking guy in the bar and seducing him used to be fun.

A challenge. Whether it ended up with me smashed up against a dirty bathroom wall…

or with my nose smashed against a fist, it gave me something to focus on.

An outlet to feel seen.

An opportunity for attention.

But those days were over. I was done.

My neighbor stayed in the doorway, not particularly shocked by what had happened and by the streaks of blood across my cheek, neck, and shirt. “Can I come in?”

His eyes were on me, so I just nodded. No reason to keep him out. No reason for him to be here, but it wasn’t my business. At least, I didn’t think it was until he came to the couch and sat down beside me.

What the hell was he doing?

I waited for him to say something, but he didn't. He just sat there with his forearms on his knees, looking at the same wall I'd been looking at.

After a few minutes, the officer came back and hooked his thumbs in his belt as he stood over me. "Mr. Allen, we need you to come down to the station tonight to get your statement on record. Is that something you're able to do?"

“I guess.” I sighed and threw my feet off the couch. Not like I had anything better to do.

My neighbor stood first and put out his hand to help me up.

Instinctively, I grabbed it because my legs weren’t quite working correctly. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” He braced me with his hand on my lower back and turned to the officer. "I can take him."

The officer looked at him with the same confusion that I felt. "And you are?"

"Osmond Quincy. I live at the end of the hall." He kept his hand on my back but pointed his other one over his shoulder. "I'll make sure he gets there and back safely."

“Fine.” The officer wrote something down then squinted at Osmond. "But we'll need you to wait outside while he gives his statement."

"That's fine." He turned to me and met my gaze. “Is it okay with you…” He paused, obviously unsure of my name.

“Cedric.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “And whatever. If you want to spend the next few hours driving my pathetic ass around town, go for it.”

He drove me to the station in a car that looked brand-new. Either he barely drove it or he was compulsive about keeping it clean. It was nothing like the muddy 4x4 Mitch drove.

It was a quiet ride without any music or conversation, but that was fine with me. I didn’t know what to say to the guy anyway. He was a literal stranger I just hopped into the car with. At least that cop knew who I was with in case my dismembered body parts started washing up at the beach.

When we got to the police department, he found a parking space and turned off the engine. "I can go in with you or wait out here. Whatever you prefer."

“You want me to choose?” I reached for the door handle and just stared at him. “What do you wanna do, Osmond?”

“Call me Ozzie.” His eyes locked with mine like he was trying to find the answer in them. “And I’ll go in.”

I almost wanted to smile, but I didn’t. I think.

We went inside, and I was immediately taken into a small interview room.

Leaving Ozzie in the lobby felt a little rude after he’d driven me over, but I didn’t want to repeat everything again…

in front of him. My sordid and pathetic past suddenly felt like something shameful.

Not that I ever thought it was something to be proud of, but I never cared what people thought about me.

But I repeated my night yet again and let the detectives clone my phone to capture the texts that Mitch had sent over the past month.

They started out mildly harsh and quickly morphed to toxic and threatening.

And when I’d rehashed my latest trauma for the final time, I headed back out to the lobby.

Ozzie was sitting on a bench near the entrance with his phone in his hand. When he heard me, he stood up. "All done?"

"I guess." The painkillers I’d taken earlier were starting to wear off, and I cringed with every step. “I just need some sleep.”

We headed back to the apartment, and I started to think about walking into that mess.

Not only did I leave at least a few puddles of blood in the kitchen and on the wall where Mitch tossed me around, there was also the matter of him having a key to my place.

I didn’t give it to him, but he saw it on the key rack and took it a few weeks back.

I wouldn’t be safe until I had the locks changed.

When we got to my door, I just stood outside of it instead of going in. “Hm…”

“Everything okay?” Ozzie stood beside me and waited for me to tell him what I needed.

"I can't go in there tonight." My voice was soft but more even than I expected. “I need to change the locks first.”

"Okay." He put his hand on my arm and gently tugged me forward. "You can stay with me tonight. The couch pulls out."

I didn’t say anything, I just followed him into the apartment that was a mirror image to mine.

After putting down his keys and turning on some lights, he moved the couch cushions and pulled out the hideabed. Then he went to the hall closet and came back with sheets and a pillow. Without asking me to help, he just got me all set up as if he expected the night to end this way.

“Thanks.”

"You know where the bathroom is. And help yourself to anything in the kitchen." He pointed down the hall before going to the front door and locking it. "I'll be up for a while if you need anything."

I sat on the edge of the pullout for a while and just stared at my shoes. Was I really doing this? Sleeping in my neighbor’s living room after being beaten half to death by some asshole hookup?

The curtains were closed, but the sun would be coming up soon, so I kicked off my shoes and took off my clothes until I was just in my boxers.

Tonight was rock bottom, and those tough decisions were starting to pop into my mind.

Was I going to let Mitch or someone like him back into my life? Or was I finally ready for something different? Something better. Something…good.