Scars (The Triad 1)

SCARLET

I rolled over to an empty bed and sat straight up. Seb never left me alone when he was staying in my bed. The sappy idiot could deny it all he wanted, but I knew he worried about my nightmares. I felt around the bed, but it was cold. He’d been gone for a while.

My stomach was instantly in knots. Something wasn’t right. My feet softly hit the floor, and I made my way across the hardwood to put on some pants before wandering out into the house. Surely they hadn’t just left me. They never left me without at least one of them babysitting.

I turned the doorknob as slowly as I possibly could. I was terrified to make a noise. I hadn’t been this scared since I first ran away. Back then I was listening to every little noise I heard, assuming that someone had finally found me. This felt far too similar to that. The ghosts of scars that would never quite leave me alone. I felt my heart racing in my chest, and the blood roaring in my head with panicked frenzy was drowning out anything else useful I might be able to hear.

When I finally got the balls to open the door, the hallway was empty. They hadn’t even left anyone to sit by the door. What the fuck had happened? A flashback of that night, that guy on top of me, flew through my mind, and I pushed it back to where it came from.

I may have only known them a few weeks, but they wouldn’t leave me. They weren’t my family. There was no way they had hired someone to take care of me, to take me back to that place. The panic crept its way up my spine, begging me to stay hidden in my room. But the overly confident side of my brain won, telling me to go find one of them. Because they had to be in the house.

They wouldn’t leave me.

Making my way down the long hallway, I peeked into each of their rooms, hoping to find at least one of them asleep.

Nothing.

The house was eerily quiet. I went slowly down the stairs, trying to look around through the dark and find one of their guys. There were always men hanging around, watching the house, and watching me. But I still hadn’t seen a single person. At the bottom of the stairs, I stepped in something wet, and any sense of calm I may have had was completely erased. I felt the tears threaten and my throat constrict.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I took a couple of steps and flipped on the light. When I looked down at my foot, it was stained red with blood. My stomach flipped, and I turned around slowly to survey the room.

One, two, three, four, and five men. All lying on the floor. All dead. Gunshot in between each of their eyes. Whoever had done this had been expertly trained. And they had ruined Tristan’s new carpet. He was going to be pissed.

“Where the fuck are the boys?” I whispered to myself.

I needed to find weapons. I wasn’t that weak little girl anymore that was so easy to overtake a few years ago. I was smarter, stronger. And I could take care of myself. Fuck those assholes that wore me down, made me feel safe and welcome. Fuck them for breaking down my walls and making me believe that I could actually belong somewhere.

I turned the light back off and crept around the foyer, rubbing my foot on the rug near the door to try and get as much of the blood off it that I could. I didn’t need anyone tracking me through the house. I knew the guys kept weapons stashed throughout the home just in case. Keeping my breaths as slow and even as I could, I made my way through the hallways towards Tristan’s music room.

Before I could make it there, I heard a thump come from behind me, and as I whipped around to see what it was, a fist connected with my face, smacking my head against the wall. Stars flew through my vision, but I swung out and kicked in the direction it came from. My foot connected, and I pushed as hard as I could. I heard him grunt and fall to the floor.

“Bitch,” he swore.

“That’s me,” I shot back and took off running towards the front of the house. I needed to get to the garage and get the fuck out of here. I didn’t know if this was them or if it was my family. Hell, it could’ve been the gang whose drug operation we took down together. But it didn’t matter. Whoever it was, I needed to run.

I grabbed onto the top of the bannister to swing my body around and head towards the kitchen where the garage door was. The moment my body made the turn, a hand gripped a fist full of my hair and yanked back. I cried out and went down onto the carpet with a thud, the air whooshing out of my lungs.

“Motherfucker,” I wheezed, trying to roll away and get back on my feet. I needed to get back up to be able to have a chance at fighting the asshole.

“That’s me,” he taunted and then kicked me in the ribs. I swore I felt one crack in half. I screamed. He kicked me in my bad shoulder, and another scream flew out of my throat. “Aren’t you going to fight back? Poor little slut. Not so much of a threat without your boys and your guns, are you?”

I gripped my side and rolled over, trying to pick myself up. I managed to get onto my knees before his fist flew and smacked me right across my face. Blood filled my mouth, and I spat it out onto the carpet.

“Stupid bitch,” he yelled as he kicked me in the stomach again. I heaved and fell back onto the floor. He crouched over me, pinning my arms to my sides and straddling my hips. Panic flared in my chest. This was not going to happen again. I thrashed under him, ignoring the sharp pain in my ribs.

“Get off of me!” I shouted, working my arms free from his grip.

“Need some help?” A shadow of another person walked into the room, and I thrashed harder. I knew what could easily happen when it was two against one. I was not going down without a fight. I finally worked an arm free and swung up at the guy on top of me, my fist connecting with his jaw while he was distracted.

“Cunt!”

“Enough,” the other guy said before I saw the shadow of his boot swing out. I braced for the kick and felt white-hot pain as it connected with my head, and everything faded to black.