Ma told me she got an anonymous donation to bail me out with the promise of more money later. So long as she kept her mouth shut about it. She told me to lay low, not fuck up. I knew it didn’t smell right and I was paranoid it was Killian but thrilled to be out of that hellhole jail where I know people had it in for me from day one, so I did lay low at first. The minute I stepped foot outside Ma’s apartment, desperate to get fresh air because she wouldn’t stop bitching at me, it happened. I went to the store two blocks away to grab some beer, hiding my face, trying to fly under radar, but I got jumped and taken here by the Rossi brothers.
Thought they were gonna take me somewhere and do me in. But I wasn’t so lucky for it to end quick like that.
I’m not hurting so much right now. There’s a lot of blood trickling out of my wrist. I feel around in the darkness for the can top and pull it across my other wrist.
Too bad it wasn’t Mrs. Shear that raised me. Fuck, but she loves her dead son Danny. Wish I were Danny. Danny raised by a woman that loved me and believed in me. Danny that’s dead right now so doesn’t have to feel this pain, doesn’t have to survive on dog food.
Yeah. It should be over soon. Then Coulter’s thug won’t be able to taunt me anymore. Won’t see Kill’s face again, smug, showing me more pictures or videos of how happy Vi is with him. Won’t tell me how good her pussy feels taking his cock. Won’t turn on the sound of her laughing upstairs from here, talking about decorating his big house, talking about how he’s the best she’s ever had.
I won’t have to go hoarse anymore from crying for help when no one hears me.
I won’t have to hear the voices in my head reminding me of all my fuck ups in life.
Won’t have to think about that fucking greedy bitch. I loved her for three years and she hops onto his dick as soon as he snaps his fingers? Straight up tells him he’s the best she’s ever had? I hope he turns on her too and she winds up in this hole in this basement eventually. Maybe she’ll get to listen to a loop of him fucking someone else the way I have to listen to the two of them.
I dip my finger into the wound on my wrist, wincing at how it stings, how it throbs deep inside, way deep…
I draw a letter V on the wall beside me with my blood. And then I run my finger down beside it to write the letter i. I dip my finger into the puddle on the floor and dot the i. I think. I can’t see it, but whatever. Maybe she’ll be stuffed here some day and see it. Know she fucked up by not keeping her promises to me.
Light floods the space again and someone jumps down. I squint around the light. Fuck, that hurts.
The guy is huge. He’s lifting me out and I’m too weak to fight him off. Too weak to make a run for it.
I’m like a bag of weak old bones, aches and pains everywhere. So much pain I can’t remember what it feels like to not hurt. I see my wrist as I lift my arm weakly. So much blood.
I dry-heave, then request, “Le…lemme die.”
“Nope,” the guy says.
I don’t know his name. I saw him that night at the nightclub with Kill. Never got his name, but he’s a big, mean fucker.
“Boss isn’t done with you yet. You aren’t dyin’ today, shit stain. Let’s get your wrists patched up. Not even a deep enough cut to do yourself in?” The guy laughs. “Can you do nothing right?”
72
Violet
A Month After Our Wedding
Finally, I’ve found the right key. The lock turns.
I pull the key out and take a big breath before I pull the large slide-lock across at the top of the door and then the middle one before I squat to do the same at the very bottom.
I shakily turn the doorknob. Do I really want to know what’s on the other side of the door?
I have to know.
I have to know that, no, what my gut is telling me is wrong. It has to be wrong.
Ever since I saw inside that cistern, the rust-colored letter V and i, I’ve wondered. I’ve wondered why this old basement has a new-looking door with so many locks. That’s why I drove here by myself today. To see for myself. It’s been bothering me for two days, so I have to know.
A grotesque odor hits my nose and I’m about to lose the last meal I ate. I hold my breath and flash the light from my phone at the corner in there.