Page 5

Hellbent

Alexiares

Every time I closed my eyes at night, I worried how much of my humanity remained. In each passing day, the monster I pretended to be, that everyone thought I was, no longer could be claimed as an act. I got it now. The darkest hour never comes in the night.

A funeral. How fucking fitting that this all started after the celebration of the end of a life. I want to take a moment here to highlight the deliberate use of the word.

Throbbing, pulsating, shots of pain radiated through my skull, the loud roar of the Kawasaki humming between my legs. That’s what I got for getting absolutely hammered the night before such an event. For once in my miserable existence, I wished I had been on time so I could have caught a ride with my parents—no matter how insufferable sitting in the car with my father was.

Anything was better than the grinding that came from this souped-up baby I’d worked on during the sleepless nights, Alexander Drakos in mind. He hated the attention it brought. The neighbors didn’t look our way much … until they did. It wasn’t as if they didn’t know we were there. Journalists sat outside our gates like vultures, and my sweet ride signaled to everyone within a few miles that I was headed home.

I didn’t regret shit, but in this decision, I may have a passing thought or two of ‘What if you weren’t such a spiteful dick?’

The slight sensation of vibrations teased against my thigh. Then another. Shit , my phone was blowing up. I leaned to my right, taking my left hand off the handle to pull it out and see what all the commotion was about. If the truth came out about the deal I screwed up for my old man on today of all days, it may very well be my funeral my mother arranged next.

A glimmer of water caught my eye, the bridge not too far ahead. I righted my position. We were only a few minutes off from the house. Whatever was going on would still be a crisis when we arrived. With my mom right behind me, it wasn’t worth the fuss, anyway.

She hated the bike, was uncomfortable with the ‘risk’ I took driving it all the time. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the risk brought me the only sense of freedom I’d ever felt in my life. Driving with one hand, on a motorcycle, over the bridge, while reading whatever was on my phone, would give her a fucking aneurysm.

The smell of burning rubber filtered into my helmet. A distant, imperceptible sound stiffened the bones beneath my skin. I ignored it, shaking it off as an adrenaline rush from riding in the rain. This bridge was slippery as hell when wet.

Everyone that lived on the other side enjoyed the natural privacy the instability of the bridge brought on rainy days. The undeniable, ear-ringing screech of tires shot my heart into the depths of my stomach. I glanced ahead, checking to make sure the road laid out before me was clear before whipping my head around. The blacked out Suburban my parents and my little brother Evander were being escorted in swerved out of control as it sped through the entrance of the bridge.

I slid into a U-turn, the water building on the bridge splashed into my boots as I let my foot guide the bike around safely. The SUV jerked back and forth, like someone was fighting to right the path it was flying down. A car sped from behind them, attempting to get ahead of the crash. It clipped me as I swerved around them, sending me from the bike, as it collided with their front end and slid into the windshield.

Rolling against the asphalt, my skin burned, the thin sleeves of my suit jacket not enough against the speed I’d fallen at. Crunching metal sang through the crisp Illinois air. The world stopped spinning. Dust settled. The result of the crash revealed itself.

My parents' SUV rested atop the Ford Fiesta beneath them, the only thing supporting them from toppling over the bridge. There was no one in the car. The driver's window was broken, blood sprayed about the tan cloth seats. Holy fucking …

Muffled, panicked shouts for help sounded from inside the SUV. I raced over, throwing open the back seat door of the Fiesta and locking the tip of my boots beneath the seat. I latched on to the ‘oh shit handle’ above the window of the car for support.

The driver in the front slammed back and forth in his seat, stuck behind his seat belt. Who would’ve thought, Mr. Fiesta, that a seat belt could save your life? He could recover from a seizure. I just had to figure out how to get them all out the car. Taking a look around, I made note of everyone’s condition. Evander and my mother seemed to be in shock but overall okay, my father on the other hand, lay knocked out against the window. Blood dripped from under his dark brows, his lips twitching.

I met Evander’s deep green eyes dilated fear. He clutched onto the back of my mom’s chair. His raven colored hair was clumped with blood on the sides. No signs of pain registered in the ghostly gaze staring back at me.

“Get him out, Alexi, please!”

Her cries centered me, forcing me to focus on the imminent danger of the situation.

Releasing my hold on the inside of the Fiesta, I reached into the Suburban slowly, careful not to redistribute too much of my weight.

“Evander,” I said, doing my best to keep the fear from my voice. “Grab onto my hand. Keep your movements slow, down the center of the aisle from the back then stop. When I give you the go, make yourself loose, I’ll pull you out. Got it?”

He nodded, jaw clenched, his olive skin a muted green. At sixteen, he was almost my height. This was going to be tricky since getting all the way in the back of that thing was an uncomfortable task for us under normal circumstances. Evander kept his eyes on me, following my instructions down to the detail, hitting the ground with a grunt.

Our father came to, the sound of Evander gasping for air forced him to confront the here and now. He glanced out the window, not liking his odds if this thing went over. Scrambling for the exit, the movements shook both cars.

“Chill the fuck out or you’ll going to kill us all,” I raised my voice over the chaos unfolding around me.

Evander clawed the ground behind me in utter despair. None of my words registered. The only thing consuming his thoughts was the danger that lurked on the other side of the car.

I scanned the scene, trying to come up with a way to get them both out before our time and luck ran out. Securing my feet in the Fiesta, I shifted my weight back, yelling for Evander to snap out of it and provide support from behind.

Releasing my grip again, I reached back into the car. “Mom. Same as Evander. Move slowly and lock your hand in mine.” I met my father’s panic stricken stare, doing my best to calm the man who never let me show a single emotion in my life. Now look at him, pathetic. “When I say go, Evander is going to support my weight, I’ll pull mom out, in that same motion, you grab onto my other hand.”

I knew the plan sucked. I’m not even sure I expected it to work, but it was all I had. One look around and I could see that not only was no help on the way, there wasn’t a single soul outside of my family in sight. So I rolled with what I had.

“Get me out of here, you worthless boy ,” my father snarled, as if he were in the position to make demands.

Yes, sir .

My mom’s forest green eyes shimmered with tears, her small, clammy palm clasping within mine. “I got you, sweetie. I’m ready.”

“Evander, let’s go,” I said, putting all my trust in him.

The car wobbled, fear coursing through my father’s veins. He pounced, latching on to my mom’s curly brown hair and taking hold of my free hand. She screeched, the sensation taking her by surprise. Her hand left mine.

I lunged forward to hell with him. He fell back onto the window as I let go of his hold, trying to secure my connection back into my mom’s. Our fingers brushed against each other, but it was too late.

The only thing keeping me from falling with them was Evander’s hold of my shirt. Gravity failed me as I flailed backward, landing atop Evander, a whoosh of air leaving his lungs.

Time is not linear.

The future and the past blurred. Time slowed. I didn’t even hear the splash as the SUV sent my parents tumbling to imminent death.

The man who caused so much death had been scared of dying. How poetic. I hope he burned in hell for an eternity.

I rolled myself off Evander, laying on my back and staring up at the darkening sky. He wheezed, breaths sounding painful as they escaped his lips. I placed my hand on his chest, pressing around to make sure nothing was broken. Too much energy. It would take too much energy to push myself up.

The buzzing had stopped. How odd . Calling for help hadn’t even occurred to me now. What help was I calling for?

There was no one left to save.

“No signal,” Evander huffed, shoving his phone into my face.

I grabbed onto it, doing a double take, not recalling him getting up. His back was rigid as he stared at the side of the bridge, the Ford Fiesta the only vehicle remaining.

“You need help?” I asked, taking note of his hand resting on his rib cage.

“Been through worse.”

In a swift movement, I pressed to my feet, offering him a hand. He took it though his stubborn nature kept his eyes from leaving the last place we’d seen our parents alive.

I checked my phone, blood chilling the flesh around my bones. “No bars.”

The recollection of the buzzing nauseated the inner part of my ear as the world around me filled with white stars. Each notification cluttering up my home screen was worse than the last. The ground beneath me swirled as if I’d had five shots too many.

“They pushed the big red button,” I said. “Let’s go.”

“What button? Go where?” Evander asked, his voice distant, detached.

He sounded his age. Something I’d never heard him sound like before. I had to remind myself constantly that my brother was only sixteen. With everything he had seen, heard … been through, it was easy to forget.

I didn’t answer him.

Home.

It was the only place we could go. There was nothing left for us on this bridge. No one was coming. No one would ever come, not for a long-ass time.

It was just us now. There was no changing that. I waited for the tears to fall, but none came. No sadness filled my heart, only anger soothed my soul.

Hellbent.

I was hellbent my entire life on destroying everything my father touched. To be the opposite of him was to be a better man. Now the word had a different definition. A different intention. Hellbent . To keep my brother alive, I would become the man we both feared.