Chapter 27
Braxton
I’ve been awake for far too long as I lift the glass to my lips, swallowing down the pills that are ruining my life.
I don’t care though. Presley’s gone. Axel’s gone.
Harley is locked in a cage. Mom’s dead. Life just doesn’t fucking matter anymore.
I’m too afraid to sleep, so I keep popping black beauties to stay awake.
Every time my eyes close, I see her and him—they keep taunting me and I just can’t anymore.
I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t fall down this rabbit hole again, but I guess I’m a whole fucking liar.
This is different though. This time I’m alone ruining my life, not with someone I loved.
Someone I enabled just as much as she enabled me, until that one day.
The one day that took me so long to unsee.
Now here we are. Not only reliving everything I worked so hard to keep in that little box in the back of my mind, but watching Presley be raped literally shattered my heart.
And to make matters worse, I fucked her best friend.
Why? Because I’m a piece of shit. I fucked Violet so fucking hard wishing Presley was there to see how it fucking feels.
I’m so angry with myself, with her—with everyone—that I’m spiraling out of control, and ya know what, I just don’t fucking care.
Do I consciously know I fucked up, yet again.
Yes. Yes, I do. Did Maverick punching me in the face make a difference?
No! After he left, I took Violet back to my room and fucked her again while holding a pillow over her head and crying my eyes out.
Thankfully, no one knew what I did. I mean they might assume, but I will deny it until I’m blue in the face.
“You ready?” my twin asks, and I nod, grabbing my phone, blade, and pistol.
“Rick’s going to meet us after he sees Harley.
I was denied visitation at Hillsboro,” he tells me, and I nod again, not saying a word.
I just don’t fucking care. All I want to do is fight, blast music, and get high.
Nothing else fucking matters. “Ya know, I’m getting really fucking sick and tired of your shit, Braxton.
I need you to snap the fuck out of it!” he yells, but again, I ignore him, leaving my room and heading down the stairs.
Walking into the kitchen, I open the fridge and grab a soda, then walk to the front door as his eyes burn into the back of my head.
“Braxton!” he shouts, and I spin.
“What? What the fuck do you want from me?” I spit, and he scoffs.
“Get your fucking head out of your ass! It seems to me that only me and Rick are fighting to keep this family together and alive while you drown yourself in pills! Grow the fuck up!” he growls, invading my space.
“Fuck! You! Casp! Don’t tell me what the fuck to do! Mind your own fucking business!” I snap back, and he laughs.
“What happened the last time I did that, huh? Do you remember? Or are you still crying about it like you are for Presley!” he taunts as my breathing becomes labored and rage fills my veins.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” I grit, clenching my jaw so tightly I might break my molars.
“Denial! Always in denial! Do I need to refresh your memory? I’m the only one with enough balls to throw it in your face.
Do you need to hear the words?” he asks, taking out his knife and twirling it in his hand.
He knows and is prepared for me to snap at any second if he dares to say the fucking words.
“I don’t need shit from you or anyone else. Just leave me the fuck alone and there won’t be any issues!” I warn, trying to change the subject.
“See, that's where you’re wrong, Brax. The more you drown yourself in those pills, the further you go, which only causes nothing but problems. You really buried all the shit that happened with Abigail. That’s wild. Brax. Fucking wild!” There it is. Her name and I fucking snap.
Chucking the can of soda across the room and grabbing my brother by his shirt and pressing him roughly against the wall. The tip of his blade pierces the bottom of my chin but I don’t feel it. I just know it’s there. He’s too calculated for my bullshit. He knew exactly what the fuck he was doing.
“Don’t you fucking say her name!” I threaten as spittle comes flying out of my mouth.
“Abigail would be ashamed of you right now! Look at you! A junky, just like Carly,” he taunts, and I slam his body into the wall harder.
“Don't talk about Abby or our mother! Fuck you, Casp. FUCK! YOU!” I yell, letting him go before I hurt him. I spin and grab my keys along the way and head right out the front door.
“You know I’m right! You junky bitch! I’m done trying to save you when you don’t want to save yourself!” he yells out the front door as I get into my car, put the key in the ignition, and spin out of the driveway.
“Fuck him—fuck everyone,” I yell, slamming my fists against the steering wheel.
Pushing my foot against the pedal, I swing my car out, making a right and fishtailing, but I don’t care.
I just keep driving until I find myself pulling down an alley and getting out of my car.
Taking a deep breath, I walk over to the door and knock.
“Can I help you?” some redhead asks with her hand on her hip.
“DC here?”
“Yeah, come on in,” she says, stepping to the side to let me in.
Music and laughter greets my ears the further I walk into the house.
I’m not one to judge, but damn. There’s holes in the wall.
Garbage everywhere. Sheets covering the windows and doorways with fans plugged in blowing hot air around.
It smells of piss, weed, and mold. A baby cries in the distance, and I swallow thickly.
This reminds me too much of my childhood, living in squalor while my mom whored around for drugs.
Now look at me. Caspian is right. I'm just like her, but the difference is—I have no kids and nothing to live for, so fuck it. Might as well go big or go home.
“Yo, Brax. What up man?” DC shouts, getting up from the couch and setting down his kit, then walking over to me.
“You came just in time. You want a hit?” he asks, and I look around at a few others smoking, drinking, and shooting up, and I think why the fuck not.
Maybe it will take the edge off. Fuck it.
“Sure, man. What ya got?” I ask, and he smiles.
“Come on, have a seat and I’ll get you set up,” he tells me while walking around the couch, leading the way.
He moves over a bunch of magazines, making a space for me to sit as he goes back to where he was.
He reaches for his kit, producing a brand new needle from its package.
My phone vibrates in my pocket but I ignore it.
I don’t need anyone, nor do I want to speak to them.
That shit can wait for later. I watch as DC loads the rig up then passes it to me.
The redhead comes to sit on my lap and ties a band around my bicep.
“You’re cute. Wanna go to Oz with me. It’ll be fun,” she purrs, licking her lips.
“Let’s follow the yellow brick road,” I reply, making her giggle as the pinch of the needle hits my veins and a sudden rush of heat flows through me.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath and revel in the numb feeling. There’s no more anger, no more hurt, no more sadness. There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing to fear as we fly through the sky leading us to Oz.