Messy Love(93)

But these low-lives dealers, some of which weren’t even twenty-one, weren’t the primary target. My father was.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I started when it vibrated against my thigh, but covered it by standing up.

“Hey, where’re you goin’?’’ A guy with a red hair asked me as he looked away from the GTA game as the other cursed him.

“Can I still take a piss in my own home? Fuck,’’ I snapped and made my way to the bathroom under the whistles and curses of the degenerates. What they had no idea was how badly I shook, how my guts knotted. One wrong move and things would escalate.

Once securely locked in the bathroom, I fished my phone out with shaky hands. I trembled so much the phone about fell in the toilet, but I tightened my sweaty grip on it.

One missed call from Dad.

I pressed my ear against the closed door and breathed out when I heard them fighting over the game.



He’s still not here. - Wyatt

We know. We can’t wait longer. He’s been tipped off for all we know. Where are you? - Dad



Fuck. I rubbed at my face and raked a hand through my hair.



I’m locked in the bathroom. - Wyatt

Stay there. Don’t move until someone gets you out. And crouch down. It’ll be over soon, Son. - Dad



Fear grew then. I wasn’t afraid for my immediate safety because I trusted my father and his colleagues. I was terrified because if they didn’t catch my father now, it meant he knew I snitched and I was sure he’d come back for revenge.

I wouldn’t be rid of him, of his poison and of the demons that clawed at me day and night.

I put my phone down and sat. With my back against the door, my legs spread on either side of the toilet and my head down against my raised legs, I covered my ears with my hands when the first shout rang through the apartment.

Then a gunshot broke the silence in the other room followed by yells and screams. I closed my eyes tightly, so tight spots appeared behind my eyelids.

Memories flashed in my head, of brawls that drew blood in front of me when I was a kid, of someone’s eyes turning glassy from death, of bruises and punches, or curses and crass laughers. Everything came back to hit me at once as hell broke loose, ruining my little life right in the next room without putting an end to that nightmare.

***





MARISSA


I had very limited knowledge of bad men and the danger they represented. What I knew came from the TV series and action flicks I had watched over the years, and all were Hollywood made, but something told me that the fact Wyatt’s biological father didn’t cover my eyes when he took me to a dilapidated apartment didn’t bode well for me.

After a fifteen-minute car ride, he parked in front of an old building in the worst part of Atlanta and forcefully lead me to this dilapidated apartment that smelled of mold and dirt. But what had my stomach rolling wasn’t the smell, it was the traces of dried blood and other suspicious stains, some of which I had under my ass on the destroyed mattress he forced me to sit on in the corner of the main room that was smaller than my apartment. The only other furniture in the room was the table and chairs in the middle where he sat, watching me.

I was gagged, my hands were bound together, and I was at this monster’s mercy while he put into motion a devious plan to get Wyatt here, so he could do God knows what to him.

I wasn’t just afraid anymore. I was terrified. My breathing was all choppy, coming out in loud pant through my nose as the dirty gag chaffed the skin on the corners of my mouth.

“Calm down, cutie. If you keep that up, you’re going to faint.’’

I tried talking but, it was useless. Only a pitiful noise came out, sounding more like I was begging than the curse I intended to throw at him.

His laugh rang through the empty apartment, echoing hollowly through the room. That was further proof that he didn’t care if someone knew he was here. That was another detail that told me things wouldn't end well for me.

“You’re feisty. Don’t know if that’s stupid or amusing in your situation.’’ He shrugged and then took a gun out from the waistband of his old jeans. My eyes fell on the gleaming metal that held the kind of lethal power that ended lives with just a finger. “See that gun, cutie? I’ve had it for years. It served me right when I had to take out someone who would cross me. It never failed me and never will.’’ He aimed at me then, and I stopped blinked as more tears fell from my eyes to further dampen the gag.

Some people said that you saw your life go right in front of you when death knocked on your door, but it had never happened to me. I almost died years ago in the car accident, but only darkness swallowed me. I don’t remember being scared either when the car went into a tailspin, and the tree got closer and closer on my side.

Right now, things were different.

My life didn’t pass through my eyes, but the possibilities did.

Love, a family, children, a tattoo shop, a grown-up Paul, Wyatt… Wyatt and Wyatt.

These passed through my mind as terror seized me, chilling me so much I started shaking to the point of biting hard into the gag until my jaw and teeth ached.

What movies didn’t tell you when you had a gun aimed at you was the sudden urge to pee, so strong it was a battle not to wet yourself. They didn’t tell you either how your body went numb and how you welcomed any and all pains in your body because they were a testament that you were still alive, still breathing.