Melancholy
Why did he take so much?
“This is all your fault, you little sluts!” she bellows, sending a knife soaring across the room. Pippa screams, and clutches me tighter.
Kennedy brought us over for dinner tonight, telling us it was time to meet his family. He was acting strangely on the way here, slurring his words, and groaning about a pain in his stomach. I didn’t know he’d taken anything; he seemed fine before we left. Midway through dinner he excused himself, and fell to the ground in a fit.
His mother blamed us. Her precious son would have never taken drugs if it weren't for us.
“What did you give him?” she screams. “What did you poison my baby with?”
“I . . . I . . . I didn’t give him anything. He took them himself.”
“Liar,” she roars, charging towards me. I throw Pippa out of the way just as she reaches me, and her fingers curl into my hair. She drags me towards Kennedy, shoving my face down until I’m so close to him I can smell his vomit. “Tell me, Puta, what did you give my son?”
“I didn’t, I swear. He gives it to me, he—”
She shoves my face into the tiles so hard my nose splits. My entire mind fogs over as pain radiates through my face, like a thousand pins being punched into my head. I can faintly hear Pippa screaming. Alyce spits words at me in a language I don’t understand.
She lifts my head, my face covered in my own blood and Kennedy’s vomit. “Tell me,” she screams. “What did you give him?”
Denying this is clearly not working, and I’m scared for my life, and my sisters. So, I do the only thing I can. “H-h-h-heroine.”
“You stupid, filthy, dirty little . . .”
Sirens blare in the distance. She pulls me to my feet, with incredible strength for a woman her age. She shoves me towards the door, blood still flowing down my face. “Get out of here, and never, never come back, or I’ll make good on my threats.”
I turn, rushing towards my sobbing sister. “Come on.”
I take her hand and we run from the chaos, terrified and not knowing if Kennedy will ever come back.
Where will that leave us?
CHAPTER EIGHT
2014 – Santana
I sway my hips to the song. My mind is a haze of alcohol and happy thoughts from the amount of it I’ve had. The party is in full swing—bikers are drinking, whores are doing what they do best, and Ash and I are swinging our butts on top of the table. My leg is numb, which I’m not entirely sure is a good thing because I could be doing serious damage, though I am only swinging my hips, not parading around flicking my legs out.
Krypt and Maddox are watching us, smirks on their handsome faces. No one tries to interfere. We sway and sing, our drinks sloshing about in our glasses as the music carries us away. “Play it again!” Ash squeals when her favorite song ends.
“Noooo,” I groan. “Another one.”
I take a step back, a little too far, and with flailing arms I make my rapid descent towards the floor. I never make it, of course—my knight in shining . . . errr . . . leather . . . catches me. His arms wrap around me and he scoops me up, holding me close to his chest.
“Time to get you home,” he murmurs.
“Aw, Maddox,” I complain. “I was having fun.”“A little too much, it would seem. Time to go.”
“Fun spoiler,” I murmur as he carries me out the door. “Bye Ash!” I call before we exit.
“I’m coming to see you tomorrow, Tana!” she squeals. “I need to know more about that kiss.”
I flush and giggle as Maddox carries me outside to his truck. He opens the door and shoves me inside. I land awkwardly, my legs sprawled, my dress sliding up way too high.
“Jesus, Tana, I can see your fuckin’ ass.”
“It’s a nice ass.” I laugh.
He yanks my dress down, muttering a curse before slamming the door. By the time he gets into the driver’s side, I’m up and already fiddling with the radio.
“Stop it,” he growls, smacking my hand away.
“No,” I protest. “I want to listen to this song.”
“Santana so help me God, I’ll tie your fuckin’ hands together.”
“Bite me, Maddox.”
“With fuckin’ pleasure.”
I laugh again, and start singing loudly to the song as he pulls out of the compound. We cruise down the highway, headed for home, when the shots come. Out of the blue. Right into the tires of the truck. They come so suddenly, it takes me a moment to realize what the loud cracking sound is.
Then it clicks.
“Maddox?” I cry, holding onto the door as the car lurches to the side.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Find my phone, Santana.”
“What’s happening?” I cry.
“Find my phone,” he barks.
“W-w-w-where is it?”
“My pocket, right.”
I reach over to his pocket, shoving my hand inside his jeans to bring out his phone just as another shot fires, smashing the windscreen. The car swerves again, and I scream as bits of glass explode into my face.
“Fuck,” Maddox roars. “Tana, are you hurt?”
My face stings, and my arms burn, but I’m okay. “I think . . . I’m okay.”
“Call Krypt or Mack.”
I open his phone with shaky fingers as he speeds up. The car is bumping and grinding against the road, but it doesn’t stop him. He swerves to the right, down a busier street. We’re closer to town, and the closer we can get, the safer we are.