Tortured Sinner by Tessa James

Johnny - 4

My mind and my body are two separate entities.

My head is urging me to follow through with my plan—to deliver this package and get it out of my possession. But my body has me following this new girl out of the complex. I can’t get the two to agree on anything, even when my mind tries to tell my body that there will be consequences if I don’t get my job done in time.

Something visceral convinced my legs to move, to go after this girl who I don’t know. It wasn’t a creepy stalker kind of thing. But more of a she just got here and might get lost thing. A strange rush of protectiveness washed over me when I saw her leave the building and venture out into the world. I already got her to hate me, and that alone might be all the protection she needs, but what if something else happens? Why is my brain telling me it’s my responsibility?

If I just confirm she makes it to wherever she’s going, maybe that will be enough.

I keep a natural pace while maintaining some distance between us, completely walking in the direction away from where I really should be going. I glance down at my watch, verifying that my little detour won’t set me back too much.

The girl's chocolate brown hair falls down her mid-back, gently swaying with each step she takes. Her arms are crossed over her chest like she might be cold. Or that she's using it as some kind of barrier from the outside world.

That train of thought makes my protective urges rise even more. I don’t know her name, and yet I have an innate need to shield her from any danger.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

She pauses in front of Bram’s, a small, late-night café, and peers at the menu posted on the large glass window. Personally, the little shop is one of my favorites; home of the best blueberry old-fashioned donuts around.

I want to go to her and tell her, to offer my local opinion on the cuisine and recommend something for her to eat. But I don’t. I can’t. Even if I found the courage to open my mouth and speak to her, she already hates me, and I don’t blame her one bit for that. I’m better off keeping my distance. We both are.

The girl turns to take a quick look behind her before moving inside. I take notice of her dark blue eyes and slightly rosy cheeks. She has a sort of delicate beauty about her that I can’t quite seem to fully comprehend. Without really knowing how or why, I realize she’s too good for this world.

With her decision to go into Bram’s, I make my move, too.

I need to act fast if I’m going to get this done.

I turn on my heel and head back the way I came, cutting through an alley to try to recover my lost time. The package digs at my waistband, and I use the shadows of the alley as an opportunity to adjust it. I was going to bring my backpack, but that would only make me seem more suspicious if someone spotted me.

I continue along until the sound of laughter catches in my ears. Drunken hilarity, actually. I’ve done this enough to pick up on certain things like that. And given the circumstances, I can’t afford to risk one of the idiots picking a fight with me. I’ve had that happen once in the past, and it didn’t fare well for either of us.

I creep out of the passage and go back to the main street, sighing at the extra time this will add to my journey. I check my watch again and do the math in my head. I’m going to be cutting it close—too close.

I weave my way down a path, shed a few minutes, only to get caught up and lose time again. A bead of sweat rolls down my spine. I pick up my pace in the most discreet way I can, but I'm running out of time. The only way I'm going to pull this off is if I step out of my safety zone.

I wait until there are minimal bystanders and break out into a jog, hoping like hell the package stays in place and no one notices the random dude in a hurry.

I round the corner and rush down the alley where I’ve made deliveries twice before.

The large door swings open when I arrive.

I glance down at my watch and wince at the same time when a dude bigger than Josey appears from the opening.

His fist meets my face a second later, causing everything to go black temporarily and my hat to go flying. “You’re late.”

By sixty seconds at most, I think to myself through the ringing in my head.

My watch had just ticked over to a minute past when I entered the area. But shit like that doesn’t matter to these kinds of people. They live for the tiniest mistakes to fuel their incessant thirst for blood.

I wipe my nose on the back of my hand, a red stain left behind. It’s not a first, and this surely won’t be the last. Not while I’m tangled up in this mess with the Sharps. I made a stupid deal with them, and they’re going to make sure I live up to my end of the bargain.

I blink up at the guy.

He reaches forward and grabs the collar of my shirt, pulling me toward him. His nasty breath reeks of cigarettes and cheap booze. “Do you have it or not, kid?”

Instinctually, my brain defaults to some smart-ass comment, but I know better than to razz someone like this, especially when he’s already thrown a punch. Anything remotely out of line will be used as ammunition to fuel his twisted role of tough guy. Despite my best efforts, my expression still betrays me. I hate myself for the laugh that bubbles up and out of my chest. It’s one of my worst traits and happens at the worst fucking times.

“Oh, I’ll give you something to smile about.” The guy tightens his grip, tugging me closer and then slamming me into the ground. He’s beside me in an instant, his knee pressed against my forearm, holding me in place. He fumbles around my pockets then my back, finally finding what he’s looking for under my shirt. He rips the package out and then stands abruptly, kicking me in the gut the moment he’s on both feet again.

I groan and clutch at my stomach, spitting out the blood that ran down my nose and into my mouth.

He sizes up the weight of the delivery in his palm, clearly guessing whether or not it’s all there. Tucking it up under his arm, he reaches into his jean pocket and pulls out an envelope, throwing it at me on the dirty ground. “Get out of here before you bleed all over my alley.”

I snatch my payment and my hat while still on the filthy pavement, then use my scuffed-up hands to prop myself up and rise to my feet. I don’t bother dusting myself off, not here at least, and not in front of him.

“Don’t be late again.” The guy punctuates his warning by hocking a wad of spit only inches away from my shoes and then goes inside, letting the door slam shut behind him.

I exhale and sag in relief that another job is done. I won’t relax until I’m home, and even then, it’s only a matter of time before Franklin has me doing more of his bitch work.

I need to be more careful. I shouldn’t have followed that girl tonight. If I left her alone, I would have probably made it here on time. I wouldn’t have been late, and this guy wouldn’t have potentially broken my nose. But even then, nothing is certain. He could have still been on some rampage to kick my ass. I haven’t been doing this shit long, but I’ve done it enough to know that unnecessary risks aren’t worth taking.

I shouldn’t bother myself with whether or not the girl is safe. It’s not my responsibility to save everyone, especially when I can’t save myself.

I rest my hand along the bridge of my nose and confirm my suspicions. I grip it firmly and snap it back into its normal place, hissing with the knife of pain that shoots through my head. I shove the envelope into my pocket and leave this place behind.

Once I’m away from the drop point, I use the bottom of my shirt to wipe as much of the blood off my face as possible. I don’t want to draw attention to myself, but my resources are limited. I hit my hat against my thigh to knock off the dirt and tug it onto my head.

My cheek throbs and has me pretty certain that the impact of this guy’s fist is going to leave a lasting impression. With the way he hit me, the impact spanned the side of my head, across to my nose. I’m honestly lucky though, otherwise, he might have knocked me out or done worse damage.

I start my second year of college in a few days, and I don’t exactly want to skip the first week because I’m hospitalized by some criminal. It’s bad enough that I’ll probably have a black eye.

I keep my head tucked low and avoid direct eye contact on my way back to the complex, only catching looks from a few people and making decent time. I sigh with relief when I punch the numbers into the gate and hear the familiar unlocking sound.

Nearly dragging myself through the courtyard and up the stairs, I finally make it to my door. I fumble in my pocket to locate the key. I slide it in and go inside the empty space, heading straight into my dim bathroom and collapsing onto the cold tile floor next to the toilet.

I close my eyes and let the weight of my body shift horizontally onto the rug near the vanity.

I stay this way only for a little while before I force myself to get up, to turn the water on and let it steam up the room. To take a shower and rinse the filth off my body. I go through the motions, taking the envelope out of my pants and putting tonight’s money with the rest of my stash. I do what I’ve programmed myself to do to get through these dark days. I compartmentalize this incredibly fucked-up life I’m living and focus on getting through another day. One that brings me closer to the end I’m trying to reach.

Once I’m sprawled out on top of my bed, my thoughts flit to the mystery girl, to whether or not she made it back safely. Or what she decided to order at Bram’s, and if she enjoyed it. I wonder if she sat in the corner and people-watched or chose a stool at the front. Maybe she got takeout and didn’t stay at all. It’s possible she changed her mind and went somewhere else the moment I walked away.

I shouldn’t let my attention wander to this complete stranger, but I do. It happens naturally and without effort.

And with that, I embrace the strange comfort it brings despite the war raging inside of me.