Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)(52)

The guards step forward, revealing that each is carrying a long, black stick. They press a button on their handles, and they hum with electricity.

“No! Leave them alone!” I shout.

“You challenged the alpha dog, Lyric!” Spangler shouts. “Throats must be ripped out.”

One of the soldiers pulls my father to his feet, causing him to groan in agony. Another drags Bex toward the door, but I step in his way. He shoves me hard, and I fall. This time I grab his leg and wrap around it like a snake.

I hear my mother scream when they hit her with one of the batons.

“I’ll do what you want!” I shriek. “Don’t take them. I’ll do whatever you want. I promise.”

Spangler waves his hand, and the guards release my family. They exit the room, leaving Spangler standing amid the destruction.

“Am I a fool?” he asks me.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m trying to be a nice guy here. Am I being a fool?”

I shake my head.

He measures me for a long time, then kneels down to my level. He removes my hat and then rubs the top of my head like I’m a dog, even going so far as to scratch behind my ears. His touch makes me cringe, but it’s the humiliation that sets me on edge.

“Can you promise to behave?”

I hesitate and he clamps his hand on my jaw and gives my head a jerk.

“Can you behave?”

I nod.

“Good dog,” he says, as a smile creeps across his face. He stands and looks around at the chaos of the room. “What a mess. I’ll send someone down to help clean this up.”

A moment later he’s gone, taking his soldiers with him.

My mother gets to her feet and helps my father sit in the only chair that survived the beating. I wrap Bex in my arms and do my best to calm her trembling.

“This is my fault,” I say.

“No, it’s not,” my father says between painful winces. “Besides, your mother did most of this. She’s mean when you make her angry.”

“Don’t joke,” she lectures. “This is serious.”

“Then I blame Fathom,” I say. His name is bitter in my mouth.

“Fathom?” Bex asks.

“I had a chance to end this, and Fathom stopped me. He’s working with Spangler. He brought all the kids their own gloves.”

“Did he . . . was last night . . . ?”

“What happened last night?” my father asks.

“Nothing,” I lie.

There’s a knock at the door, and we all go quiet as mice.

My mother stands and moves toward it.

“Stay behind me,” she urges, her muscles tense and ready. When she opens the door, Fathom is waiting.

“I wish to speak with Lyric Walker,” he says.

A million ugly words fight to be the first to come out of my mouth, but I never get the chance. Bex steps forward and points her finger in his face.

“You don’t get to talk to her anymore. Do you understand me?” she shouts.

He looks over her shoulder to me, clearly hoping I will intervene. All I can think to do is give him the finger.

“I’ve tolerated your brooding crap because she loves you,” Bex continues. “But we’re done! Your stupidity and arrogance bore me, and now you’re a traitor, too? There’s something wrong with you, man. Your head isn’t right, and we’ve got all the crazy we can handle right now, so turn around and go. In fact, why don’t you go back to your fiancée and try to explain to her what you’ve been up to? I doubt she’s going to be happy about it. I might not be able to kick your ass, but I know she can.”

“Lyric Walker?” he pleads. “Just a few words.”

For so many days and nights, Fathom has given me the strength to keep going. He’s been the escape from a terrible reality. Last night was more than I ever hoped it could be—gentle, passionate, loving, and when we fell asleep against each other, I was sure I would never trust anyone as much as I trusted him. Now he’s made me regret the best moments of my entire life, and I hate him for it.

“I’m such a stupid little girl,” I say out loud, but it’s not meant for anyone else but me.

“Please,” he begs.

“Leave me alone,” I say, and I turn my back on him. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

I hear Bex slam the door. The sound rattles my heart. She takes my hand and leads me past my bewildered parents and into the bathroom.

“Can someone explain what is happening?” my father shouts when Bex closes the door.

“Let it go, Leonard,” my mother says.

Bex sits me down on the side of the tub and puts my head on her shoulder and lets me cry and cry and cry. We have been in this same exact situation before, maybe not locked in a camp, but on the edge of a tub sobbing about some dumb boy. It’s oddly comforting that in this nightmare life of mine there are still some things that are familiar and dependable. Bex will always be here to let me cry.

“He’s not good enough for you,” she whispers. “You’re Lyric Walker, the second-hottest babe in Coney Island, behind me. He was totally dating up.”

I laugh through the crying.

“Plus, the whole love triangle thing played out in 2005. Why would you put yourself through that tired cliché? You’re better than having to try to convince someone to pick you. In fact, I know you are sad, but I have to be honest and tell you I’m really very ashamed of you. What the hell happened to your self-esteem?”