Bitter Sweet Hell (Hell Night 2)

She mumbles something about going to change and walks off toward the bedroom. I watch her go, her black knee-length dress a big contrast to what she normally wears. I don’t like her in the drab clothes. She’s only worn it for a few hours, but the minute she stepped into the living room earlier, I wanted to demand she go change. I like the soft, colorful, flowy skirts she wears. The bangles and hoop earrings were also absent. I missed the jingle the bangles made. And her hair? Her hair was in a Goddamn bun. A tight one at that. With no loose flyaway pieces.

I pull at my tie, loosening it, then yanking it off and tossing it on the couch. Walking into the kitchen, I snag the whiskey from the cabinet, pour some in a glass and throw it back, repeating it two more times as I lean back against the counter.

My thoughts drift back to Jenny and the death certificates of her parents I found the night she was murdered. She was five when they were killed. I wonder if she knew her parents were against the acts of Hell Night. Maybe it was just their own daughter they were against hurting. Emo couldn’t find any more footage that showed the couple, or at least not close enough to tell their demeanor with what they were doing. Like I told Emo the other day, I don’t remember them much, but I do remember seeing them a couple of times during Hell Night. I never really paid attention to them though. I was barely twelve when the FBI showed up in Malus. I was too young to pay much attention to other people during those nights. I was busy living my own hell.

It’s all pointless now, because Jenny will never know. And that’s a fucking shame, which makes me want to carve into Diego just a little bit deeper because of it.

I toss back another shot of whiskey before capping the bottle and putting it back in the cabinet. It’s been twenty minutes since Eden went to the bedroom. I had her get her belongings the night Jenny was murdered and she hasn’t been back to Judge’s since. Seeing what she did, that shit stays with a person anyway, but I don’t want her to have any reminders.

I hear the en suite shower going when I approach my bedroom door. Deciding to join her, I start on the buttons of my shirt. The bathroom is cracked open, and not wanting to startle her, I push it the rest of the way open slowly. Dread, anger, and torment take place in my stomach when I don’t find her in the shower, but hunched over the sink, naked, her head bowed and her shoulders shaking.

She must sense me, because when I walk up behind her and wrap one arm around the front of her upper chest and the other around her mid stomach, she doesn’t even flinch. I pull her back against me and her body sags, physically unable to hold herself up any longer. This is why I’m here. To be her strength when she has none.

Her broken sobs wreck me. The tears flooding down her cheeks make me feel helpless. I hate seeing her like this. I hate even more that I can’t take her pain away.

I hold her as she purges out her sorrow through her tears. I don’t say anything, because this is what she needs. Grief and sorrow are awful feelings and the only way to move past those emotions is to let them out, to give them an outlet. Only then can you start to move on. Eden will grieve for a long time, we all will, but we’ll also eventually begin to heal.

Once her cries have quieted down, I take my arms from around her and pull the pins from her hair. She watches me with bleary eyes, her face red and her breath still stuttering. After I have the long locks loose and flowing down her back, I turn her to face me. Using my thumbs, I wipe away the dampness from her cheeks.

“Thank you.” Her voice is hoarse and it breaks my heart even more.

“I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet, but I spoke with Diego’s father the day Emo and I got back to town. We had actually just left his house when I got the call from Judge telling me about Diego’s call to you.”

“What?” she squeaks. “What did he say?”

I clench my jaw and leash my temper. “He said he’d talk to Diego. Emiliano isn’t stupid. He knows it’s in his best interest to rein in his son, but apparently, Diego didn’t heed the warning.”

“I hate him. I hate him so much that I wish he would just die.”

Guilt makes its way into her eyes at her confession. I’m glad she feels that way, because Diego will most certainly die a very painful death. Whether she wishes it or not. I keep that to myself. Wanting someone dead and them actually dying are two different things. It’s easy to wish for someone’s death. It’s not so easy knowing they will die.

“Don’t feel guilt for thinking that way, Gypsy. It’s a normal reaction after everything he’s done.”

She bites her lip and tilts her head to the side. “Why do you call me that?”

“Because you remind me of one with the clothes, bangles, and the scarf you wear over your hair sometimes.” She smiles a little, and I’m so damn proud of myself because of it. “And speaking of clothes, that shit you have on the bed is a no. I want you back in your skirts, light tops, and bangles.”

“What about the scarf?” She quirks a brow.

I shake my head. “You may as well toss all your scarfs. If I see another one on your head, it’ll be too soon.”

She points her eyes to the center of my chest, morose once more. “I wear those clothes because they make me happy. I’m not really in the mood—”

I tip up her chin with my knuckles. “You can’t let this change you, Eden. Jenny wouldn’t want that. Grieve for her, miss her, but don’t let what happened make you a different person.”

She nods after a moment.

I bend down for a kiss and she rolls to her toes to meet me halfway.

“Get in the shower. I’m right behind you. Then we need to get to The Hill.”

She gives me a half-hearted smile before walking into the shower. I make quick work of my clothes and follow behind her.

THE PARKING LOT IS SO FULL when we pull up to The Hill that we’re forced to park along the road. Jenny was well loved by everyone in Malus. She was one of the few original children who stayed here after the raid, so everyone knew her. She was also one of the first people we told about how my brothers and I were going to handle assholes who like to hurt women and children. She was on board immediately.

I grab the umbrella from the back floorboard, get out, and walk around to Eden’s side. It’s cute how she huddles against me on our way to the entrance of The Hill so I won’t get wet either. Not that I give two shits about getting wet, but the fact she worries I will, is sweet.

Leaving the umbrella on the stoop of the steps, we walk inside. The atmosphere is different than it was at the funeral. Light and less bleak. People are obviously still morose, but there’re easy chuckles from the men and soft giggles from the women.