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TWENTY-FIVE

SPIRALING

PSYCHO BITCH—TECH N9NE

CALISTA

I tightly hold the warm Styrofoam cup from Dunkin filled with delicious, creamy coffee, bringing the lid to my lips for a slow, long slip. As the liquid glides down my throat, I feel a comforting warmth spreading inside me. The taste of the sweet caramel syrup mixed with the caffeine replaces the bitter aftertaste of my medication, and I try to savor every sip.

Walking in the rain, I move at a leisurely pace with a slight limp from the sharp pain shooting through my hip due to the intense, much-needed night with Dom last night. I never intended for him to wake up while I was fucking him, but a part of me is glad that he did.

Although there was something sexy as fucking sin riding him and watching his closed lids twitch back and forth and a smoldering grin dance along his lips. He looked peaceful. He looked gorgeous. Most importantly, he looked fucking happy.

I wonder what that feels like...

However, after such an intimate moment, I was—and still am—left grappling with the consequences of my actions. Being willingly intimate with Dom—something I had never done before—exceeded my expectations, but my troubled mind still fears he might regret it all.

Was it a pity fuck? A fuck out of fear I might kill him? A fuck of convenience? Or was it real?

Did something dangerously dark and delicious pass between us in that moment that neither one of us was willing to talk about now?

Shit, maybe…

The rain continues to fall, soaking through my clothes as I was, lost in my head and consumed by my nagging thoughts. I can’t help but wonder what Dom is thinking and if he’ll want to see me again after what happened.

But why am I thinking like that? I didn’t go there to kiss and make up. I went for the sole purpose of torturing them with the revenge I’ve been planning since I was thirteen. Fucking feelings got in the way—that’s why I try not to feel anything for anyone. It’s a guarantee that I won’t get hurt, but now, what the fuck have I done? I let my pussy run the show, and that shit can’t happen again. I need to stay focused. I need to stay on track. Fuck, I need to keep my fucking legs closed. But will I be able to do that now that they’re back in my life? Will I be able to resist the temptation that’s taunting me?

My heart races uncontrollably with anxiety as I struggle to understand my own feelings, still nervous as fuck to interact with Kill and Ash, mainly because of how me and Dom’s reunion went last night.

Instead of going right back to their apartment right away, I walk in the opposite direction, sipping on the last remnants of my coffee and hoping that the warmth will chase away the chill in my bones. But as I slowly blink, all I can think about is the guys and the uncertainty of what comes next.

But I don’t dwell on it for too long because by the time I look up, stopping at a tall, iron gate, the worries in my head go from the guys to my parents. Looking through the thick bars at the house I once called home, I feel my insides begin to burn, and my entire body shakes uncontrollably. Unable to steady my trembling hands, the cup of coffee I was holding falls to the ground, splashing all over my shoes.

Fuck!

I didn’t want to come back here, but I couldn’t stop my feet from leading me back to the gates of hell, literally .

Sneaking around the perimeter, I slide in an opening in the gate out back, staying low and out of sight of the cameras around the property. My anxiety worsens, and each second that passes I can feel myself slowly losing control, spiraling into the rabbit hole again—the same one I fought so fucking hard to climb out of. But I force myself to remember that I made it out—I fucking made it out alive. Just barely, but I’m still here, free to roam wherever the fuck I want. Free to unleash chaos on those around me. Free to set the entire fucking world on fire if I wanted to and watch every motherfucker burn in the flames of my revenge. Free to finally embrace the darkness that has consumed me my entire life.

So, taking deep, calming breaths while I count in my head, I cautiously peer into the window where the living room is on the main floor, catching a glimpse of my mother and Gunnar, locked in a very heated discussion.

I cringe, shivering so hard I can hear my fucking teeth chattering. Bile churns in my stomach and creeps up my throat, leaving a burning sensation behind. I force it down, holding back tears as flashbacks of my time inside come crashing back to me at full speed.

“You don’t need to be here,” Addy whispers, softly rubbing my back.

“I know I don’t. I just wanted to see them for some reason,” I admit, feeling ashamed and sick to my stomach even more.

A sudden gasp leaves my mouth as I watch my mother and Gunnar lean in for a kiss, frantically grabbing at each other’s clothes like a couple of teenagers during their first time. I pull out my phone to record, needing all the blackmail I can get, but it doesn’t take long for the bile I tried to force down to come up, spurting from my mouth like a fucking water fountain into the red rose bush beside me.

As if they can feel someone watching them, both Gunnar and my mother turn toward the window just as I wipe my mouth and duck back down, putting my phone away and quickly crawling away how I came in.

I don’t breathe or look back until I’m far enough away that I don’t even see the iron gate anymore. And when I finally do release a breath, the pungent taste of vomit lingers on the back of my tongue, making my stomach feel queasy.

I try to steady my racing heart and focus on the present, but the memories of my past keep flooding back. Memories of the night that I ran away and Gunnar found me. The fear and pain of my childhood and the trauma I thought I had escaped from come back to haunt me.

I know I need to find a way to confront the demons and heal the wounds that linger inside of me, and slowly, I am—by working my way down the list until every single one of them is long fucking gone.

* * *

By the time I get back to the guy’s apartment, I’m completely numb and zoned out, and absolutely drenched from head to toe. My clothes cling to me, putting every curve and muscle in my body on display, almost looking as if my clothes were professionally painted on.

My mind and thoughts are heavily clouded from my medication I kept eating on the walk back, so desperately wanting to stop any feelings from torturing me.

I put on a facade, pretending everything is fine— that I’m fine —and walk up to the door with a fake smile glued to my quivering lips. As if I’m not traumatized by what I saw at my parents house.

They’ll buy it, though. I know they will.

“Just act normal,” Addy advises, standing to my left with her hands on her hips.

“I don’t know what my normal self is, Addy. What is normal for me, huh? Whatever it is, the guys don’t have any fucking idea,” I snap, feeling annoyed, and a rush of anger surges through me. “We haven’t seen each other in fucking years. They don’t know me like they used to, and fuck, I really don’t know them anymore either—it’s like we’re strangers, Addy.” My heart aches, but I power through the pain, maintaining my facade.

“Strangers,” I whisper under my breath, feeling another pang of sadness rip through my heart as I go to raise my hand to knock.

But before I can, the door swings open and I come face to face with Dom, just like last night—but without the masks. I want to smile, to hug him tightly, to feel relieved, but I don’t. I keep my composure strong, needing him to know that I’m not here to fuck around. I’m here to ruin their fucking lives like they did mine, and I can’t afford to feel bad about it now.

“Did you get your coffee?” he asks, sounding skeptical as he looks at my empty hands.

But oddly enough, he still flashes me a quick, flirtatious smile that I wouldn’t have seen if I wasn’t looking right at him.

“Yeah, and I already finished it.” I push my way inside the apartment, hearing my heart thud in my ears as I catch Killian and Ash staring at me from across the room; their jaws drop to the floor.

The heat blows through the vents above me, bringing my body temperature back to normal, making me hotter than I want to be. The overwhelming aroma of pot, cologne, and vanilla mix together, making my nose tingle as I breathe in. Shockingly enough, this place feels like home—something I haven’t gotten to experience in a long fucking time.

With my focus heavy on the guys sitting on the couch, reality comes back to me, and my palms become sweaty as I think about having to get to know the three of them all over again.

Fuck, this is it. This is the moment I’ve been wanting for so fucking long; I just want it to be under different circumstances.

Dom shuts the front door and walks around me, joining Ash and Kill on the couch and fixating his glassy eyes on mine as if he’s trying to search for something deep within them. But he isn’t going to find anything because I’m dead as fuck inside.

A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I look at them, but I refuse to let it reach my eyes. These are the boys I fell in love with. They protected me, guided me, and loved me as much as I loved them. But in the blink of an eye, they shattered the special bond we had, teaching me a very valuable lesson in the process of heartbreak: it doesn’t matter how well you know a person, you can’t count on or trust anyone but yourself.

A part of me wants to walk right out the door, to leave and never look back. But another part of me knows I need to be here to face the truth, to address the elephant in the room, and to come clean about what my intentions really are. The uneasy tension in the air is thick and suffocating, and I know I can’t keep them in the dark for much longer, even though it’s fun as fuck watching them squirm.

Taking a deep breath, I finally speak up. “It’s been a long fucking time.” I force a smile, noticing the fear and hesitation in their curious eyes. “We need to talk.” The words hang heavy in the room, and for a moment there is nothing but uncomfortable silence as they exchange wary glances with each other.

“I knew it was you watching us—I fucking knew I saw you,” Killian says softly, and a random pang of guilt hits me like a fucking ton of bricks.

“You did?” I stammer, unable to meet his intimidating gaze.

Ash nods. “We’re so fucking sorry, Calista, really.”

Upon hearing his apology, the weight of relief washes over me, though my chest still feels tight with apprehension as I take a few steps closer to them, fidgeting with the soaked hem of my shirt, still clinging to my body.

All of a sudden, Kill and Ash jump up from the couch and charge at me, wrapping their arms around me in a tight embrace. Peering over their shoulders, I lock eyes with Dom as he sits on the couch, returning the smile he has flaunting on his lips. Forcing my arms up, I hug them back—briefly—before pulling away and taking a defensive stance with my body straight and stiff and my arms crossed over my chest—as if they’re going to hurt me all over again.

I know it wasn’t their fault. I know they didn’t want to do what their fathers forced them to. But the fact of the matter is they still did, and it absolutely fucking ruined me. It’s all I can think about.

“Come sit down so we can talk,” Kill urges, trying to tug my wrist to get me to the couch, causing me to begin to panic.

I yank it out of his grasp and shake my head, refusing to fall for the charm radiating off of each one of them.

“No, I’m fine right here.”

“Calista, we’re not going to fucking hurt you. For fucks sake, you’re the one who was in my bed with a damn knife to my throat last night.” Dom glares at me, his eyes wide and dark with the same dangerous look he had last night when we were fucking.

Is it bad that it turns me on?

“I’m not here to make up and be one big happy family—at least not right now, Dom,” I snap, lighting a much-needed cigarette.

Watching him pull out a little rock of heroin, he drops it into the bent, burnt spoon on the table and begins to prepare a shot. My mouth waters at the sight, knowing just how good the drug would make me feel right now.

To my surprise, he pulls out a fresh rig and draws up the brown liquid, handing it to me without even looking up. “Here, it’s yours if you want it.”

I snatch the needle out of his hand and collapse in the chair across from them, flexing my fist to get my veins to pop. Glancing at them, I watch as each one gets high in their own way, wondering when their lives got so bad that they turned to drugs to ease the pain. But I can’t talk or judge, since I overmedicate, cut myself, and get high on anything I can get my hands on.

Trauma changes a person. It doesn’t matter what kind. Everyone copes differently, and unfortunately for our group, we all turned to drugs to numb the pain and make living life more tolerable.

So as I stick the needle in a vein on my hand and push the liquid into my body, I force the bad shit to the back of my head, where it lives rent-free. I squeeze my eyes shut and lean back, riding the rush that surges through my body until every part of me is numb and tingling.

When I open them, Dom is standing in front of me, looking down at me with a dopey expression on his gorgeous face as his green eyes sparkle like emeralds hitting the sun just right, even though it’s cloudy and pouring. I resist the urge to grab him and pull him down to my level, gripping the arms of the chair.

“Feel better?” he asks, a playful smirk curling on his lips.

“For now,” I mutter, matching his flirtatious tone.

“If you want more, just ask one of them.” He points behind him to the guys, refusing to turn around. “I’m heading off to work, so play nice,” he says smugly, and then he finally leans in and presses a soft kiss on the middle of my forehead before walking out the door without another word.

Nervously, I glance at Ash, then Killian, not knowing what the rest of the day has in store for the three of us. The silence surrounding us is broken by a cell phone ringing, a grave reminder that I need to be careful in case they spill the secret about where I am. Of course, the look they share doesn’t make me feel any better, and paranoia begins to weave its way into my body.

“Fuck, it’s my father,” Ash announces, his voice trembling and fear flickering in his gray eyes.

It breaks my heart to see the effect that man still has on him, but I know how hard it is to escae torment from those who have sank their claws into your mind, body, and soul.

“I won’t hesitate to kill you if you tell him where the fuck I am,” I threaten, feeling my temper go from zero to a hundred in a split second.

“Calista, I wouldn’t do that shit. You’ve gotta give me more credit than that,” Ash says, shaking his head as he stands to take the call in the other room.

“But do I?” I shrug, waving him off with feelings of fear and nausea swirling in my stomach.

Trying to listen to his angry, hushed whispers doesn’t work; I can’t make out shit, and it just fuels the crippling anxiety inside me. Realizing I need to pull my shit together, I take another deep breath and try to get my ragged emotions under control. My stomach is turning and my head is pounding, but somehow I manage to push through the haze of anxiety and paranoia. I have to focus. I have to find a way to handle whatever comes next, even though I have no fucking idea what that might be.

“He’s not going to say anything, Cali. In fact, our fathers wanted us to find you, but we refused,” Kill tells me, trying to diffuse the toxicity in the air.

“I don’t fucking know you guys anymore, Kill. I don’t know if I can trust you. Shit, I don’t know who I can trust anymore.”

He almost looks like I’ve slapped him across the face, hurt by my truthful admission. But can he blame me for feeling this way?

“I promise you can trust us. I know it’ll take some time, but Cali, we’re not going anywhere. We’re never letting you go again.” He offers a reassuring smile that somewhat puts my nerves at ease, but the voices in my head are too loud, forcing me to remain firm in my beliefs.

As Ash finishes his call and rejoins us, the atmosphere feels heavier and much more tense. I glance at Killian, who looks as uncomfortable and uncertain as I feel.

“What did the old man want?” I turn to Ash, curious as to why he looks like he just saw a ghost.

“Same shit,” he sighs. “He’s coming to pick me up, and he’s pissed because when he asked if we had any leads on you, I told him no.”

“Does he do this shit a lot?” I ask timidly, curious to see if they know what I’m talking about.

They both nod, and while the fear hasn’t completely disappeared from their eyes, there’s a glimmer of hope that maybe things will change now that we’re together again.

So we sit here in the dimly lit room, each grappling with our own ghosts and nightmares but somehow finding a way to connect despite the darkness that surrounds us—through silence. They keep staring at me, the look in their eyes letting me know there’s something they want to say, but they don’t know how.

“What?” I huff, taking a rolled-up dollar bill out of Ash’s hand as he pushes the plate with cut lines of coke over to me.

I sniff one of them, instantly regretting it. The burn is so intense it makes my eyes water, and as the coke drips down the back of my throat, I begin to cough, not used to the bitter numbing feeling taking over.

“Did you kill those men, Calista?” Kill asks out of the blue, an eerie silence hovering between us.

I stare at him with a firm look on my face, curling my lips upward into a sinister smirk as I recall bits and pieces of each murder. “I did,” I admit proudly, handing back the dollar bill. “And there’s plenty more to come.”

“Wow, little Calista turned into a fucking badass.” Ash chuckles, popping the top on a beer, chugging it down.

“They call me Little Psycho, and you haven’t seen anything yet.” Again, I grin, letting them know I’m not fucking around.

“Did you come to kill us too?:

“Relax, Ash. If I was going to kill you fuckers, I would’ve done it weeks ago when I first ran away.”

He smiles and Kill nods his head, both of them looking relaxed—for the most part. I haven’t told them about my plans for the other names on my list, including their fathers. I wonder how they’re going to take the news when I tell them that they’re going to help me kill all three of them. Because, like it or not, it’s fucking happening.

As we sit in the quiet aftermath of our words, a tentative sense of hope begins to take root in my heart. It’s fragile and raw, but it’s there, and for the first time, I allow myself to believe that maybe we can find our way back to each other and put all the bullshit behind us for good.

I look at Ash and then Killian, and I know that we have a long, difficult road ahead of us. But I also know that we no longer have to walk it alone. Whether we fight or fall, we’ll be there for each other, and in that unity, there is strength.

We’ll make it through—we have to.