8. Orion
8
ORION
“REMEMBERING”
It’s quiet out here. Too quiet.
A frown pulls at my mouth as I stop dead in the middle of the clearing, nothing but the chirp of cicadas to break the silence of the still winter night. Earthy notes of wet dirt and cypress zest the air—a strange scent after being locked in a concrete prison for the past eight years. My boots crunch against the blanket of dead leaves as I delve deeper into the Moriton forest, the waning moon doing little to guide my path through the dense underbrush. But it matters not. I know the way by heart.
As I walk, I can’t help my mind wandering to that beautiful girl by the lake. The same one who was at the bar. She was… ethereal. The way the light bounced off her silver hair, drawing out the molten gold in her eyes—just the thought has my cock hardening.
A growl tears from my chest as I force those desires from my mind. I’m a bad man—a sick man. My darkness will infect her as it does everything that touches me. No. The golden girl is better without me.
Although, no matter how much I say it, my cock never gets the memo.
It takes several hours by foot, but I finally make it to the cabin as the sun begins its ascent into the sky, coloring the land in vibrant hues of orange and pink. I wrinkle my nose at the sad state of the structure I once called my home, gazing upon the sagging foundation and wondering if it’s even safe to enter.
With a glare at the bright ball of light daring to highlight all of its shortcomings, I move toward the place I once called home. The rotted wooden steps squeal as I ascend the stairs to the front door, and the main deck is no better off. I press my wrist to the small divot in the wood, half expecting nothing to happen. But to my surprise, the panel that serves as the door slides open at the first brush of contact with the key nestled in my wrist.
A heady blast of mildew and condensation smacks me in the face as I step into the cabin, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the corner of the room where a small bed lies, a ratty patchwork quilt layered lovingly over the plain gray bedspread.
I move toward the bed in a trance, pinching the blanket between my fingers and bringing it toward my chest to… what? Snuggle it?
With a huff, I lay the blanket back on the bed and move toward the opposite end of the room, where a large wooden safe is located. Pleased to find all my equipment safe despite the state of the rest of the cabin, I lock the safe up tight and move back to the bed, plopping down with a heavy sigh.
It’s quiet here. Too quiet.
Filled with restless energy, I stand and move toward the door, needing something to distract me from the thoughts trying to batter their way to the forefront of my mind.
I stare out at the glassy lake, watching the way the moonlight ripples off its surface. The color reminds me so distinctly of something. A pair of eyes from years ago. The little life I was unable to save.
A weight presses down on my spine, causing me to fall to my knees as a searing pain builds behind my eyes. It takes me a while to realize actual tears are streaming down my face, and when I notice, I can’t find it in me to care. No one is around to see them.
And if that's the case… are they even falling in the first place?
I press my forehead to the dewy grass, allowing the coolness dripping from the blades to take away some of the fire blazing beneath my skin. It’s a tornado of flame and fury. An uncontrollable wildfire, eating everything in its path. Burning me up from the inside out.
My mind falls prey to the scorching heat, and before I know it, I’m falling.
Remembering…
8 years ago…
“Just hold on! I’m going to get you out of here!” I shout, clutching the little blond Arelia tighter in my grip. She’s so small, so fragile, I’m worried my strength will crush her bones—but I can’t let up. Can’t let go. Can’t stop moving.
I’ve been running through the labyrinth of underground tunnels for what seems like an eternity, desperately trying to find a way out. If I don’t find a way soon, the two masked men chasing us will catch up. And all of this will be for nothing.
Forcing myself to a halt, I close my eyes and listen for something—anything—that could help me. It’s eerily silent down here. There’s no noise—nothing, save for the slow drip of condensation coming from the vent by the entrance of the tunnels.
Chest brimming with hope, I walk toward that sound, pausing with each turn to make sure I’m still headed in the right direction. When I finally set eyes on the concrete steps leading to the main clubhouse level, my pulse skitters in excitement.
“Look,” I whisper, raising a shaking finger to point at the steps ahead. “You’re almost free.”
For the first time since I saw her, Arelia’s eyes brighten with something akin to hope. She turns those baby blues onto me, her chipped smile so wide I’m worried her face will split in two.
“Th-thank you.” She lets go of my shirt just long enough to throw her stringy arms around my neck. My chest feels fuzzy as I return the embrace, an unfamiliar warmth spreading to my fingertips as she sobs into my shoulder. I’m careful not to hug her too hard for fear of injuring her frail body, but all I want to do is crush her in my grip and tell her everything will be okay.
“You don’t need to thank me.” My voice cracks as emotion wells in my throat. “I’m so sorry for…” I try to finish the sentence, but the words won't come. There really is nothing I can say to her—nothing I can offer that would reverse the horrors she’s lived through. The only thing I can do is get her the fuck out of here and away from these people who want to hurt her.
Later… later, I’ll come back and enact her revenge for her.
I make my way up the stairs, the rapid beating of two hearts the only sound to fill the small space. I grip the handle of the small wooden hatch at the top of the steps, looking at the girl and making sure she’s ready for what’s about to come. Her chin wobbles as she nods, her hands gripping my shirt even tighter as she buries her face into the crook of my arm like I taught her.
She doesn’t need to see what’s about to happen up there.
I take a steadying breath, closing my eyes and grabbing the gun nestled in my pocket. I hold it like a lifeline as I force my arm upward, allowing light to spill into my eyes as the hatch opens to the club leader’s office.
I hasten across the room toward the exit, wrapping my fist around the doorknob only to jerk away when a male voice sounds from the other side of the oak. Clutching the girl to my chest, I rush behind the desk, crouching low in the hopes they won’t notice us.
The voices draw closer, and I frown as the timbre of Floyd Cox spills beneath the door.
“Right this way, boys. We’ll enter through my office.”
Another male voice speaks out, “I told you—Coxy has the hookup. All the tight pussy you could want.”
Bile rises in my throat, coating my mouth with a taste one millionth as vile as the words that just fell from his lips. I press one of the girl's ears to my chest, covering the other with my spare hand so she doesn’t have to hear the revolting words.
“Unfortunately, I only have one girl left—the last batch I had shipped in barely lasted a week—but the one I have will be more than enough for you boys.”
One of them chuckles. “They just don’t make ’em like they used to.”
Anger heats my veins, so rapid and violent I’m sure I’ll combust on the spot. Children. They’re talking about children.
The door clicks open, and in steps Floyd Cox, black hair greased and chunky gold rings adorning each of his disgusting sausage fingers. Two more men in club uniforms follow at his heels—a fat bald one and a skinny one with diamond studs—both pathetic, vile excuses for human beings.
Floyd strides over to the hatch, and I hold my breath, praying he’ll lead the men down so Arelia and I can make our escape. Just when I think he’ll wrap his hand around the handle, he stops, straightening and gazing around the room with narrowed eyes.
And that’s when I realize—the carpet.
I didn’t put the carpet over the hatch.
“Come out, come out, little girl,” he calls, clearly unaware there’s a fully grown man in the room along with her. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
The hatch bursts open, revealing the two men chasing us in the tunnels. Their voices collide as they try to explain what happened down there, but when Floyd finally realizes what they’re saying, his hand moves to the gun strapped to his hip.
It’s now or never.
Before they can act, I stand from behind the desk, my face a twist of rage as I fire my gun. Five distinct pops fill the air, each bullet landing square in the forehead of each of the members—except Floyd. He only gets one in his stomach.
Sulfur and gunpowder hang heavy in the air as I take deep, shuddering breaths. The gun is hot in my hand, shaking slightly from the adrenaline of ending four lives.
Floyd’s screams sound far in the distance as I walk toward him, a disgusted sneer on my face as I take in the man rolling around on the floor like a freshly hatched maggot.
I line up the tip of the gun at his crotch, firing once. A squeal of agony fills the air, and a malicious smile spreads across my face as I fire again. And again. And again.
Eventually, I run out of bullets. My face drops as I look down at the useless weapon in my palm, none of the rage inside me quelled. If anything, it’s grown stronger. More hateful.
“Pl-please don’t… kill… me,” Floyd wheezes, tears streaming from his eyes. His hands are stained with fresh blood as he clutches what used to be a cock, and I spit in disgust at the sight.
“Don’t worry. I’m doing the world a favor.” I step to his head, the barrel of the gun clenched tightly in my fist. Floyd looks up at me with helpless, tear-filled eyes—begging me for a shred of mercy. The same kind he never once extended to his victims.
With Arelia’s terrified face in my mind, I bring the butt of the gun down onto his skull. I strike him again and again. I hit him until his nose is concave until his brains flow like soup from his shattered skull.
And then I hit him some more.
Only when I hear Arelia softly weeping in the corner do I shake the fog of bloodlust. The red fades from my eyes, and I gaze down in utter numbness at the remains of Floyd Cox.
Good riddance.
Shaking from the adrenaline, I step over to where Arelia is hiding behind the desk, doing my best to wipe my bloodied hands before she sees me. But there’s just too much of it, and all I manage to do is ruin my T-shirt further.
“Arelia.” I hold out a hand for her to take. She peers up at me with big, trusting eyes, wrapping her fist around my index finger without a second thought. I pull her into my chest, breathing a sigh of relief when I realize she’s unharmed. Safe.
“How are you holding up, kid?” I brush her dark hair back from her eyes. She’s pale as a ghost, her eyes wide and roving, as if something will jump out of the shadows at any moment. I’m about to reassure her against this when they do.
Four more club members burst into the office, their weapons raised and faces full of rage as they take in the carnage.
“He murdered Floyd!” Someone at the back screams. “Kill him!”
It all happens so fast. One moment, I’m holding a perfectly healthy Arelia in my arms, and the next, I’m trying to stem the bleeding gushing from a massive hole in her sternum.
“No!” I scream, clutching her tiny face in my palms as her face pales. There’s so much blood leaving her tiny body, and I don’t know how to stop it. But God, would I do anything to stop it.
“Just hold on, Arelia!” I yell, holding pressure to the wound. But it’s useless—the blood slows its flow, but I know it’s not from anything I’m doing. She’s dying.
“Arelia, please.” I don’t even notice as four shots ring out, striking me in the back and legs. I crumple to the floor, cradling Arelia so her fragile body isn’t bruised by the fall. Yet even as I do it, I know it’s useless.
“It’s… okay.” She reaches up and places her tiny, bloodied hand on my cheek. It’s so warm and so, so cold. And as I look down at the girl too good for this world, my heart shatters.
“It’s okay.” She coughs. “You… you tried your best… to save me.”
Another shot rings out, and pain sears across my mind. But it’s nothing compared to the pain of watching Arelia die in my arms. Not even fucking close.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, rocking slightly as my mind breaks. “I’m so, so sorry.”
I’m not sure what happens next—only that, when I come to, four more dead men surround me, and I’m clutching Arelia to my chest, rocking back and forth. The words echoing in my mind are the same ones falling from my lips in a loop, though they don’t change anything. Don’t erase this horrible ache in my chest, in my soul.
When the police finally show up two hours later, they find me in that same position. I’m still shaking, still clutching Arelia’s lifeless body to my chest. Still muttering the same phrase, over, and over, and over.
“I killed her… I killed her… I killed her…”
I blink, wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes as the lake comes back into focus. I gaze up at the stars, at the vast nothingness—wishing there was a way to know Arelia’s soul was somewhere safe. That she was no longer hurting.
But I don’t know of any such place. And I know no such truth.
With a sigh, I get to my feet and shuffle toward the cabin, my heart as heavy as the steps I take. I pass out on top of the covers, not having the energy to take off the false uniform or even my shoes. And as I fall into nothingness, I pray for my first night of deep sleep in eight years.
But a pair of golden eyes follow me into the abyss.