Jax by E. M. Moore
22
Days pass, and no Jax. It’s almost impossible to tell time in a dark room with no windows, but I estimate at least three days have come and gone. I’m starting to wonder if he actually will come for me like I thought. Maybe I thoroughly pissed him off this time. Maybe when he found me attempting to return to Psycho, he gave up on me.
The inky black thoughts take over my brain, turning this small room into a literal jail of the mind and body.
Psycho tortures me with his presence every day. His questions range from why I chose to abandon him to how it feels to be a whore. Looking at him now, I don’t know how I ever thought he was anything close to the boy who loved me no matter what. Jax loved me through everything, whether he realized it or not.
Psycho isn’t capable of such an emotion. All he wants is power…and glory.
The door bangs against the hinges, and I sit straight up, blinking awake. The smell of my own urine and shit has taken over the room. The brief reprieve from the door opening has me taking in gulps of air while Psycho wrinkles his nose in disgust. As if I have another choice but to relieve myself.
“Get up,” he demands.
I stand on shaky feet. The last bit of food I had was yesterday, and it was only because Lyla snuck it in for me. Psycho has left me in here to rot. He doesn’t give a shit whether I make it through this or not. He hasn’t brought me food or water. The only thing he’s brought me is his anger and disgust about how I let him down. Why I’m making him do this to me.
I don’t move as quickly as he wants me to, so he stomps forward and grabs my shirt. I’m so disoriented that I start to fall but his grip keeps me from crashing to the floor. He doesn’t wait for me to get my bearings again, he drags me across the concrete and deposits me in the bathroom. “You smell like shit.”
“It’s Psycho repellent,” I deadpan. Now that I’ve stopped caring what happens to me, the barbs come one after the other. He doesn’t have control of me anymore.
He hits me upside the head. Agony rips through me, making my vision narrow to a point for a moment. He grabs my jaw and makes me look at him. “I don’t enjoy you like this.” The bite of his fingers makes pain flare but I’ll be damned if I let him know he’s hurting me. Not anymore. “You seem to forget who you owe everything to.”
I did. I did for a very long time but I know who I owe everything to now, and it was never Psycho.
“Take off those clothes and shower, you dirty slut.”
The cracked mirror on the wall shows off what bad shape I’m in. Bruises mar my face from the times when Psycho couldn’t hold back his temper. I have marks in every stage of healing. Fresh, red marks on my chin from where he just gripped me. Ugly purple all the way to yellow as if my face is a canvas of pain and torment. “Why?” I croak out. He has to have a reason for this. Last time, it was because he was done teaching me a lesson but for some reason, I don’t think that’s what this is.
“Because I fucking said so,” he snaps. “On second thought...” He turns the derelict shower on and shoves me inside. I hit the far wall at the same time freezing cold water stiffens my bones. The feeling of both makes me gasp, and the clothes Jax bought me soak through as I hyperventilate. “Now clean the fuck up.”
He turns, leaving the room, and I dive for the shower knobs to turn on as much hot water as I can. I don’t know what time of day it is, but it can’t be first thing in the morning where I might have a blind shot in hell for getting a decent temperature. Instead, the water is just this side of chilly and it’s not getting any warmer.
I step out of the disgusting shower to peel my wet clothes off and then jump back in. It kills me to do what he says but I do smell like shit, and I need to clean out any fresh cuts to make sure they don’t get infected. Plus, the water temperature isn’t enough to deter me from wanting to wash away the last few days. Every spray of water is a stimulated shock. I bounce up and down on my toes as I do the quickest, thorough shower of my life.
By the time I’m finished, Psycho has let himself back in the room. He eyes my body with a leer that makes me want to shrivel. So far, I’ve gotten out of this without him touching me sexually, and I’d really like to keep it that way. I can try to fight him off, and I fucking will, but it won’t do me any good. For one, I’m weak. Two, he’s a hell of a lot more sinister than I am. I don’t know what that half-cocked brain of his would conjure up to punish me with if he decided he did want me.
He throws clothes at my feet, and I frown at them. They’re the same shit he always dresses me up in. A half shirt that shows off my belly, and a pair of short shorts with rips as if not showing off half my ass is enough.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask as I tug the shirt on with no bra. He hasn’t brought me one, and I need to burn the one I was wearing anyway.
“Heard from your boy.”
I try not to show any emotion but I’m sure I fail when Psycho’s jaw ticks. I continue to pull up the shorts panty-less because the other ones I had on need to go the same route as the bra.
“I was right,” he gloats once I face him. “He came around asking for you, and we’ve worked out a little scenario that I think will work in my favor.”
My mind races toward things that I don’t want for Jax. The only way Psycho would agree to anything is if he got compensation. He’s going to kill me anyway so he may as well get something for me, and the only things Psycho wants that Jax has are the Ring, the gym, or his money—or all three.
That’s the bad thing about actually doing something with your life in the Heights—you become a target. A mark to which the less fortunate can place their ire on. Because somehow, you rose above everything that they haven’t. “What’s the scenario?” I ask.
Psycho laughs, the sound filing the small, concrete room and echoing it back to us. “If he hadn’t contacted me, you’d be dead. I have no more use for you, Sadie, so I’m certainly not going to share my business dealings with you.”
A couple of nights ago, he brought his new girl into my room to fuck her in front of me. He brought a flashlight to illuminate the space so he could make sure I saw every last disgusting detail. I did. I saw. I didn’t care. Except for one thing...
The look in the girl’s eyes. The pretend mask she wore. She reminded me of me.
Psycho is losing his little band of followers. Little by little. He may not even see it yet, but sooner or later, he will. He doesn’t have the same pull he once did.
When he finished spilling his cum inside her with an exaggerated grunt, the girl quickly screamed his name as an afterthought. He couldn’t keep his hands off her in his attempt to make me jealous. Something at which he very much failed at...but I failed too.
When they left, I threw up in the corner of the room, realizing that all I’ve been doing is watching as Psycho went on his terror-induced tirades. For years, I’ve sat back and observed people’s lives being ruined. I participated in that shit. Hell, I even sealed other people’s fates. The ones who are here—some of them—I brought them when he thought they were worthy, especially the girls. If a guy comes up and says, “Hey, we got a place for you to live. It’ll be great. We can help,” ladies might think twice. But when I did it, their guard was let down, and they fell for it hook, line, and sinker.
I have a lot of atoning to do for my sins.
Psycho opens the door, grips my upper arm and shoves me into the hallway. He pushes me forward, so I walk toward the main area of the house. Instead of what people would usually be doing, they’re all milling around, waiting. I spy Lyla in the corner, who looks at me blandly. His new girl runs up to him, maneuvering her arm around his hips where they give the whole room a very public show of affection. Tiron is here, too, sneering at me, and I give it right back.
“Let’s go,” Psycho says, pointing toward the door that leads to their makeshift gym. My heart pings around in my chest. Of all the scenarios I could’ve wondered about, this was not one of them. What the hell are they going to do to me in there? Is Jax in there?
My questions are quickly answered when we all stream inside. The room opens up to the size of the one we just left except this has shitty boxing equipment moved to the corners of the room. The stench of BO lingers, but despite all that, a sight in the very center of the room simultaneously makes me want to smile and cry.
The three people who’ve become like family to me within the past week stand there, arms crossed. The boys were always like my brothers but Leenie is also included now, chin jutted in the air with the most badass expression I’ve ever seen on a chick before. Pride warms me from the inside out as Psycho’s band of fuckers start to circle around them.
My feet stay rooted as I take in the scene. I haven’t let myself look at Jax clearly yet as I try to size up the shitshow I just walked into. At the same time that I’m glad they’re here, I also want them to be so very far away.
A gentle hand touches my elbow, and I glance up. The blue eyes that meet mine nearly sweep me off my feet. My wet, clinging hair has soaked through the back of my shirt so that I feel like a drowned rat but being this close to him makes me want to break down and cry. I swallow the urge and meet his gaze with as much strength as I can muster.
“Take your hands off her,” Psycho growls.
Jax barely pays him any attention. “Part of the deal is making sure she’s alright so kindly go fuck yourself, asshole.”
I smirk as he inspects me. His gaze is fleeting over my bruises and body but latches onto my eyes as if he can see everything I’ve gone through without him here. I wished we’d had more time together for reconciliation. I wish there were some magical words I could’ve said to him to make it all better from the beginning. If I’d known what they were, I would’ve prayed at his altar. I would’ve said it to him as many times as it took.
In the end, he doesn’t ask me if I’m okay. He only steps back, nodding once.
“Okay...” I say, wincing as I try to take a step forward. My bruised body isn’t complying with how fierce I want to sound. So, I make my voice harder. “Can someone explain to me what the fuck is going on?”
“Well,” Psycho says as he comes up and grabs my ass. “It’s simple, really.”
Jax’s hand lasers in on Psycho’s as if he can burn it right off—his dick along with it. It makes Psycho clench me tighter, and I grit my jaw. I’m about to get answers, and I don’t want to get into a pissing match with Psycho right now which is more than likely what he’s after.
Psycho smirks. “In the past, martial arts clubs would challenge each other for dominance. Masters would fight masters. Students would fight students. We’re going to do the same, except we won’t only get notoriety out of the deal, we’ll get the Ring and Elite Boxing.”
Psycho’s minions cheer, fists raised in the air. Half of them clap while the other half start high fiving each other like we’re at a football game.
I blink at Jax, wondering why the hell he agreed to this. I have no doubt Jax can kick his ass but Psycho won’t fight fairly, and that’s kind of Jax’s and Finn’s thing. They do everything by the book. They don’t color outside the lines. They value honor above all else.
So, it’s obvious who thought of this plan. Psycho doesn’t want to just take everything from Jax, he wants to humiliate him too.
“And you?” I ask Jax. “What do you get?”
“Someone who should’ve been by my side all along, Sadie. I get you.”
“Well, we get you. Technically,” Leenie says. She winks at me. “Hope you don’t mind a built-in best friend out of this deal.”
I smile, and my cracked lips split. “I like the sound of that.”
“Touching,” Psycho sneers. “First match. Let’s go.” He claps his hands and retreats to the circle.
Without warning, a fist flies toward my face and catches me high on the cheekbone, right alongside the bruise that’s already there. I spin away, holding my hand to my face as Jax spits out insults and tries to intervene while Finn holds him back.
Psycho only grins as his new girl comes for me again.
