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TWENTY-TWO

REMINISCING

I CAUGHT FIRE—THE USED

DOM

B right red and dull orange leaves swirl with the dirt being kicked up from the wind as it fiercely whips around outside. Like last night, tree branches continue to knock against the windows, and the heavy breeze shows no sign of letting up. It’s not long before hard raindrops pelt against the glass panes, making the temperature drop significantly.

Sitting up in bed, my back hits the cold wall, and even though the blanket is covering half of me, it does little to stop my body from shivering. I watch thick, gray clouds move quickly across the gloomy sky, threatening to soak the city at any moment.

A soft stir beside me pulls my gaze off the brewing storm and onto the sleeping, battered man snoring to my left. Even though I went to bed in my room, I found myself slipping into Ash’s in the middle of the night once I heard his soft sobs coming from across the hall.

As I stare at him, sprawled out in nothing but a tight black pair of Under Armour boxer briefs that hug his firm ass, my eyes scan his intricate tattoos that I’ve done, each one with a special meaning. Of course, once I fixate on the array of yellow and purple bruises covering his body, a lump immediately forms in my throat.

Not only does his father “lend” him out, but he uses Ash as his personal punching bag if he doesn’t comply with his sadistic demands. All of our fathers are the same—disturbing, predatory, and sadistic—getting off on the pain and torment they’ve been subjecting us to ever since we were young.

I want to cry for my best friend, but I keep my tears at bay, feeling more angry than anything. Reaching over, I gently caress Ash’s back, tracing the purplish bruises with the tips of my fingers. I wasn’t trying to wake him, but he turns on his side, facing me, his bruised eyes slowly fluttering open.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I apologize, flashing him a half smile.

“It’s fine,” he says, stretching, his bulging arms reaching above his head as his bones crack all throughout his perfectly toned body. “When did you come in here?”

He sits up and pulls the blanket over his lap to conceal his massive boner, reaching in the nightstand drawer for his pack of cigarettes.

I shrug. “I don’t know, sometime in the middle of the night. I heard you-”

“Don’t, Dom,” he warns sternly, cutting me off with a look of shame washing over his face. “It’s nothing that I’m not used to by now.”

“Yeah, but that’s the thing—you shouldn’t have to be used to that shit, Ash. None of us should.” I feel my blood flowing through my veins like fire, causing my skin to itch severely.

“It’s too late. The only way they’re going to stop is if we-”

“DOM!” Kill shrieks from another room in the apartment, his panicked voice booming through the paper-thin walls. “Dom, come out here!”

Ash and I share a look of confusion before quickly climbing out of bed. I pull a pair of sweats on and a hoodie over my head to arm me up before rushing out of the room, following his voice as my feet slap against the hardwood.

Standing in the living room and holding a cup of coffee, Kill stares at something on the coffee table, his eyes wide in shock and fear. Walking up to him, I follow his finger to where he’s pointing, snatching the slip of paper off the table to see what it is. The second I read it, I know they’re lyrics, and my heart begins to thud in my ears, knowing exactly who left it.

“So she was here last night like we thought,” I mumble, glancing around to see if there’s anything out of place.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Ash snatches the paper out of my hand and reads it, his battered face turning pale as realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “Calista was here?” He looks between Kill and me, both of us nodding our heads.

“Apparently. I thought she might’ve been when I found the bloody mask under the chair, but we really didn’t give it much thought.” Kill sips on his coffee, sinking into the couch, looking stunned beyond belief.

“This has gone too far now. We need to find her fucking ass.” I scowl, having mixed feelings about the girl we all used to—and still do—love.

I want to hate her, but how can I when I’m still madly in love with her? Or at least madly in love with the girl she used to be before her parents sunk their twisted claws into her innocent soul.

“There’s a race tonight; maybe she’ll show up,” Kill states, rolling a morning blunt for the three of us.

“I doubt it, but we need to go to make the rent anyway.” I collapse in the chair across from the couch while Ash sits down beside Kill, all three of us lost in the fear and wonder consuming our already fucked up minds.

How can one little harmless girl have us feeling this fucked up?

“What happened last night, Ash?” Passing the blunt, Kill asks, giving a sympathetic look that I know Ash can’t fucking stand.

Even though the three of us battle with our own demons—different but the same—we never judge or force each other to talk about what we go through. Not only is the abuse embarrassing and degrading, but it’s turned us into shells of the men we were meant to be, although we never had the chance.

Our fathers ruined us before we could escape their clutches, being turned into puppets, our strings controlled by the men who are supposed to protect us and guide us, not defile and abuse us. In our mid-twenties, we feel hopeless with no end in sight.

Why haven’t we told? Why haven’t we fought back? Run away? Because of who our fathers are in the community. They’re well-known, high-profile members with connections in places that we dare not fuck with. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve tried running away, but we always came back because of Calista. She was used against us in more ways than one because they knew we couldn’t resist her.

We tried to say no, but were reprimanded with beatings and had our lives threatened, and we’ve even been thrown in juvie and jail where our fathers could make sure we couldn’t run off or tell anyone what was happening.

We tried to fight back but ended up worse off in the end; we even ended up in the hospital with broken bones from being beaten within inches of our lives. After trying and trying but never succeeding, we gave in and played the parts we were told. But we never gave up.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ash finally says. “But what are we going to do about Cali? If we want to be free, she’s going to have to face us so we can help her too.”

The blend of terror, rage, and desperation in the room is almost suffocating, but I know that we’ll find a way out of this hell we’ve been living in.

“We’ll figure it out, but right now we need to focus on getting through today and tonight,” I reply, a newfound determination rising within me.

I lean back, letting the high rush to my head, controlling my mind, body, and soul, thinking about Calista like I’ve done so many other times. She may have been—and still is—a pawn in our father's sick games and a puppet for her parents, but that doesn’t have to be the case for her future—or ours.

We are all victims in our own way, but now it’s time for us to take control of our lives and finally stand up for ourselves, even if it means feeling uncomfortable for a while. Our lives are worth the discomfort and fuck, we want a chance to live them freely, without fear following us like a shadow. And one day, we will have our fucking freedom, hopefully with Calista right by our side, where she fucking belongs.

* * *

“Has she shown back up?” Walking up to Five as he stands near his bike, I ask, my eyes glued to the crowd in search of Calista.

“Nah, but she’ll probably come tonight,” he says nervously, avoiding eye contact, which leads me to believe that he knows more than what he’s letting on.

But I let it go, not wanting to start shit in the only community I’ve felt welcomed in.

“You tell us if she comes, yeah?” Kill snaps at him, a deceiving grin on his face as he slips his hands into his driving gloves.

“Yeah, I already told you I would. But honestly, I don’t know why you’re hunting that poor girl.” Five fires back softly, unaware of all the shit we’ve been through with her.

“Don’t fucking worry about it. We’re not going to hurt her, Five. Just keep your fucking word and let us know if she shows up.” I glare at him, but it doesn’t phase him in the least.

Walking away, the three of us head for our cars, our hands itching in anticipation of the race that’s about to start. The combined sounds of revving engines and thumping music bring a smile to my face, finally in a place where I feel like myself. The bright lights and thin layer of fog floating through the city create an inviting atmosphere, and fuck, I just love being here—being a part of this community.

Sitting in my car all strapped in and ready for the race, I anxiously scan the heavy crowd for the only girl who’s been running through my mind all fucking day. Instead of eye-fucking the half-naked girls hanging out by the array of cars and bikes, I try to focus on looking for Cali, hoping she actually shows up tonight.

With Ash and Kill lined up beside me, the three of us keep our eyes open, hoping at least one of us spots her. And every so often we glance over at Five, knowing she might come to see him since he’s been some sort of confidante to her—someone she feels safe with and can count on in this cruel, fucked-up world.

The roar of the engines gives me an adrenaline rush; the anticipation and excitement for the race drown out the fear and uncertainty. As the countdown begins, I push all thoughts out of my mind, focusing on the road ahead and the need for speed to feel alive.

The underground racing community is our escape, our temporary reprieve from the darkness of our lives. And tonight, I’ll take whatever chance I can get to feel free, even if it’s only for a short time.

As the signal goes off and tires begin screeching across the asphalt, I slam my foot on the gas pedal, the deafening sound of engines echoing in my ears as the race finally begins. And for the first time in a long time, I feel a small sense of hope—a hope that we can break free from the chains that bind us and create a future worth fighting for... with our girl right by our fucking side.