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TWENTY-SEVEN

VULNERABLE

I CAUGHT FIRE—THE USED

ASH

T he next night, as I’m dropped off outside my apartment by one of my father’s associates, the wind blows, bringing a small whistling sound along with it as it travels through the empty trees around me. A light chill wracks my body, but I welcome the brisk air, hoping it eases the burning, throbbing pain that’s shooting through bones.

Bruises have already begun forming all over random parts of my body and face, and blood from each battle wound my father inflicted upon me because I tried to refuse his orders has dried.

I look like a fucking hot ass mess, and there’s no fucking way in hell that I’m going to let Calista see me like this. Not only that, but I feel completely fucking shattered—broken beyond repair—much like my fragile heart.

Overwhelmed with shame and disgust, I sit on the front steps in the dark, chain smoking the rest of my Newport's until my throat feels raw, trying to delay the inevitable as long as possible. Even though I know Calista is inside, I hesitate to go in, dreading the look of pity I know she’ll have on her beautiful fucking face.

The guys always give me the same look when I return, so I know she won’t be any different. I understand they care and don’t mean to make me feel as awful as I do, but my twisted mind becomes overly paranoid, thinking they’re judging me for the trouble I’m wrapped up in. I know they’re not, but a cunt named paranoia takes over, flooding my mind with fucked-up, disturbing thoughts, especially tonight.

I wonder if Kill told Cali about the vile things my father does. Did he tell her that he gets pleasure from watching me—forcing me to do unspeakable things—with the high-profile members of his sadistic group for perverts? That he holds me at gunpoint, making me do whatever they want while he watches and records for his secret society of mentally fucked-up and disturbing friends? Most importantly, did he tell her that I’m still his favorite toy to use and abuse however he wants? That he rapes his own son when he’s drunk and sells me to rich, powerful people because he’s obsessed with the money they pay him?

I’m a fucking disgrace, and I can’t even bear to look at my pathetic self in the mirror. What I see looking back at me is a broken, tormented man trapped in a little boy’s abused body, and I have no clue how to begin healing from over ten years of trauma, torment, and manipulation.

Every time I try to break free from my father’s invisible chains, strong hold, and control over me, I never get very far. If I ignore him and refuse to obey his demands, he makes sure to ruin my life with horrible repercussions that leave a lasting impact on me. He’s thrown me in juvie when I was underage and put me in jail after I turned 18—his favorite place for me—using his connections to ensue the abuse continued behind bars.

I shake my head, trying to jumble the thoughts so they don’t make me even more depressed and crazy, but it doesn’t seem to work. Nothing makes sense to me, and at this point in my miserable life, I don’t think anything ever will.

The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that Calista is somewhere inside waiting for me, and after not seeing her for years and not being around her for even longer, all I want to do is just that; I want to be around her.

Cali had a smile that would pull me out of even my deepest depression, back when we were barely in our teens. Now I never see it.

Her eyes sparkled with hope and promise of a bright future, and I found myself always getting lost in them. Now they’re dull and full of shame and gloom, showcasing the kind of life she was dealt.

Her laugh was infectious, and you couldn’t help wanting to laugh with her. I felt lucky that I got to call her my best friend, and secretly, someone who I fell in love with before I knew what love meant. There was something special about her, and it made her even more attractive to me.

But everything changed overnight, and it never was the same again.

I know we betrayed her at her birthday that night, but we were following orders from our parents. Knowing what they could do if we refused, we figured the only way to protect ourselves and possibly stay alive was to do as we were told... which pretty much meant run a train on Calista while they filmed it and jerked off to the sight of the four of us. It still makes me sick. Even the fact that I knew Cali forgave us for it, even told us not to worry about her, to listen to our fathers—she was fucking amazing like that.

But because we listened to them, we never saw her again, and our lives at home grew progressively worse while she was locked in the attic of her house, chained to the bed like a fucking prisoner.

No wonder bodies keep popping up rather quickly; she’s a little determined psycho out for one thing: revenge. And if what I’m thinking is right—that she’s out for us too—then this whole random visit could be a fucking trap for us.

Shit, we could be next, and if we are, I think I’d be okay with it. After the life I’ve lived in such a short time, all the hell, torture, and abuse, I’m ready to die and see what’s waiting for me on the other side.

With a deep breath and heavy heart, I head towards the door, my body screaming in protest with every step. Pushing the door open, I see her waiting for me, her eyes filled with concern and love—not pity. And for the first time in a while, I allow myself to believe that maybe there’s hope for me after all.

Looking around the apartment when I realize she’s alone, my brows pinch in confusion. “Where is everyone else?”

“Dom went to work and Killian went to a race; he said we could swing by if we wanted to.” She smiles nervously, and it’s the first time ever that I see how vulnerable she really is.

“You can go but I’m not in the racing mood tonight.” Keeping my hoodie and shoes on, I sink into the couch beside her, trying to leave a little space between us so she doesn’t feel overwhelmed.

Feeling her eyes on me, scanning all the marks, I begin to grow uneasy, feeling like the little vulnerability I do have is showing.

“What happened, Ash?” she finally asks, putting her hand on my knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Did your father do that?”

Sliding my hand into my pants pocket, I pull out the baggie of coke, just wanting to get high, mainly to numb the physical and emotional pain, but also just to forget about everything that happened tonight. But I can’t fucking forget.

“Want a line?” I ask, holding out the straw to her after I’ve sniffed my first couple lines, completely avoiding her question.

She sighs, looking torn, making me wonder why all of a sudden. “I shouldn’t since I just took all of my meds and a few extra painkillers. I’m not a fan of speedballing.” Her eyes lock onto the straw, and her tongue darts out involuntarily to lick her lips.

“Meds? Why are you on medication? What did they diagnose you with?” I regret asking the moment the words leave my lips, especially when I see the look of shame that briefly flashes in her dull-blue eyes.

“Fuck it,” she laughs mockingly, eventually snatching the straw out of my hand, rolling her gorgeous eyes. “It would be easier to tell you what I’m not diagnosed with, Ash. Being held captive for so fucking long does something to a person’s mind, completely altering their mentality.” She sniffs the fatter line out of the three cut up on the coffee table, instantly rubbing her nose. And then she looks at me, keeping her hand on my knee but now tightly gripping it. “I don’t trust our family doctor, since he was known for coming to my parents rescue and keeping quiet about a lot, but he slapped me with severe anxiety, bipolar with schizophrenic behaviors, manic depression with delusional tendencies, OCD, ADHD, and a few others that are almost impossible to pronounce. I’m basically crazy, for short. I told you I was, Ash. I wasn’t given the nickname Little Psycho for nothing.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Calista. I didn’t know.” I hang my head in regret, trying to ignore the mixed look of shame and embarrassment on her face.

“It’s not your fault,” she says, her forced smile slowly fading.

“Marcus Rutherford,” I blurt out, figuring she deserves to know something since she just opened up to me. But the look she gives me fucking terrifies me, and I find myself stumbling over my words.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Her jaw clenches, defining her cheekbones but showing off the extreme look of hatred and anger from hearing the name.

“Wh… what’s that look for?” I ask nervously, subtly inching closer to her, desperately fiending for her warmth but too afraid to divulge into my desires.

“Did you say Marcus Rutherford? As in councilman Marcus Rutherford?” She speaks through gritted teeth and freezes, and her grip on my knee gets even tighter as the color drains from her face.

“Yeah, the very same. Why?” I ask, not sure if I want to know the answer or not.

“He’s on my list, Ash.” She smirks now, the deadly twist of her plump lips giving me an unsettling chill. “Tell me what that motherfucker did to you, baby boy,” she purrs, making me feel some type of way that I’ve never felt before. “Tell me so I can make it all better for you.”

“I hate talking about that shit, Cali. Just know that my father wasn’t the only one to leave these fucking marks all over me.” I shudder just thinking about what happened hours earlier, trying hard to force down the bile rising in my throat.

She nods, accepting my vague answer, and reaches into her backpack near her feet. Pulling something out, she slaps a piece of paper on the table and removes her hand so I can see what’s on it. Following her finger, my eyes dart to where she’s pointing, and sure enough, the name Marcus Rutherford is scribbled toward the bottom, right above a few names already crossed off and below a bunch of names that aren’t.

She’s got a fucking hitlist. No lie, she legit has a fucking hit list with about 13 names on it.

I try to scan the list to find out the other names, but she quickly shoves it into her backpack before I can make any of them out.

“You’ve got a score to settle with him too, huh?” I joke, slightly bumping her shoulder with mine to try and lighten the mood and ease the thick tension floating between us.

“You have no fucking idea. He won the bid at my birthday a couple years back, and I was forced to spend a weekend with him alone while he did anything and everything he wanted to me. He fucking destroyed me, Ash, and did some of the most fucking disturbing things to me that I can’t even repeat without having a fucking panic attack.” I can hear the sadness in her voice as she recalls the graphic details of the pain he inflicted on her, but she quickly recovers with another devilish grin that, no lie, makes my fucking cock hard and my blood run cold.

I can tell that she doesn’t like to be vulnerable. She doesn’t allow herself to feel sorry for her situation and she sure as fuck doesn’t want anyone else to feel sorry for her. But I do. I can’t fucking help it. I just want to hold her tightly and shower her with love, but she doesn’t seem like the type who likes to be held, and I completely understand why.

As the silence stretches between us, my heart races, splitting my focus between her and the dread quietly simmering in the back of my mind. Calista’s resolve is palpable, and it pulls me in like a moth to a flickering flame.

“What's your plan?” I finally ask, betraying a hint of curiosity. “I can tell you have one; otherwise, you wouldn’t have a fucking hit list.”

Her eyes flash, and there’s a mix of pain and determination in them. “I have to do this, Ash. There’s no choice. I can’t keep living in the shadows of what they did to me. The only way to reclaim my life is to confront them— everyone on that list has to fucking pay.” She emphasizes the word everyone, making me think there’s names on her list that I’m not going to like.

I shift on the couch, torn between admiration for her strength and fear for her safety. “And what about you? What happens after? You think revenge will magically fix everything?” I can’t help picturing the shattered girl who was once my best friend, laughing and carefree.

My mind flickers back to those innocent moments, starkly contrasting the dangerous path she seems hell bent on pursuing.

Calista shrugs, her demeanor sliding back into defiance. “What’s the alternative? Allow them to keep living their lives like nothing fucking happened? Let them continue to hurt others the way they hurt me? That isn’t justice, Ash. I need to see them fucking suffer the way we have.”

“But you’ll only be hurting yourself in the process. You don’t have to do this shit alone, you know.” The truth drips from my voice, cutting through the tension.

She looks away, her brow furrowing in frustration. “You’ve seen what they can do, Ash. I can’t trust anyone in this fucking world—not even you. This is something I have to handle myself.”

“Trust is earned, not given—I know,” I murmur, reflecting on just how far we’ve strayed away from each other, tied by the trauma we’ve each endured but unable to bridge the gap between our hearts.

Her jaw tenses, and for a fleeting moment, I think I glimpse the girl who used to confide in me about her dreams and fears. But that spark vanishes, leaving in its wake the hardened woman sitting next to me.

“You should just forget about it, Ash. I don’t want you getting mixed up in even more shit, especially shit that isn’t yours.”

“Mixed up?” I huff, a swell of anger bubbling to the surface. “You think you can just push me away again? I’ve spent nearly half my fucking life being pushed around, and I’m not living by anyone else’s fucking rules anymore. I’ll stand by your side if that’s what it takes to get through this.”

Her expression flickers—surprise battling with something deeper. “Why do you care so much? I’m a liability. You need to protect yourself, Ash.”

“Because you’re my best friend, and regardless of what we’ve been through, I want to help you. I can’t sit back and let you dive headfirst into danger, especially when it involves that fucking monster,” I say, my voice trembling.

“We have more than that one monster in common,” she mumbles, her truth tugging at my heart strings.

“I’ll fix it, Cali,” I promise her, deep down knowing that she’s talking about my father being another monster we have in common.

For the first time, a soft smile breaks through her steely facade, and it warms me, even against the chill deep in my bones.

“It’s been a long time since someone cared. I didn’t know what to expect when I walked through that door, honestly. A part of me was hoping you’d all just take the hint and leave this shit—and me—behind.”

I lean closer, wrapping my hand gently around hers, tempering the urge to crush her knuckles with a life destined for pain. “I can’t do it alone, Calista, and neither can you. We may be broken, but fuck, we can rebuild something together.”

Calista’s gaze latches onto mine, holding the weight of every moment we’ve experienced in this brutal reality. “You mean that?” She eyes me cautiously, probably trying to see if she can trust the words coming out of my mouth.

“Yeah, I do,” I reply, my voice steady. “This isn’t a fucking game. It can get messy—fucking dark as shit—I won’t sugarcoat it, but there’s fucking power in our pain, and together we can fight back. Let's rewrite our fucking story, Cali.”

She shakes her head slightly and tries to laugh it off but the tremor in her breath says otherwise. The vulnerability settles back across her features like a fragile veil. “We could end up behind bars if we’re caught, or even dead. You know that, right?”

“Maybe.” I squeeze her hand a bit tighter, warmth pulsing between us. “But I’d rather face that fate by your side than live in fear for another moment without you.” I shrug, a gnawing feeling in my gut to what this might be leading to.

A flash of hope ignites in her eyes, a spark of that fiery spirit I once adored as a child. “Okay, only if you’re up for it.” She smiles, and I know right away that she’s got a plan in mind, and that plan now involves me.

With that, a silent pact takes shape between us, trembling hesitantly forward in the dark isolation of our reality. We’ll find the fucking monster encroaching on our lives, face the shadows of our past, and carve out our futures, one piece at a fucking time. The pain we share—the scars we carry—will forge the legacy we choose to create as we dare to live again.

This time, she moves closer to me, gently reaching up to cup my face in her hands. My heart races in anticipation while my cock painfully throbs in the confinement of my jeans as it grows harder and harder with each torturous passing second. Our faces move in close, our lips mere inches apart. The desire sweeping through me becomes too much to bear, but I stand firm, waiting for her to make the first move.

And she does.

Her lips find their place on mine, her tongue dipping between them, shyly at first. But when mine thrusts into her mouth, brushing against hers, both of us lose it and dive head first into something we’ve both been wanting for a long time.

My resolve completely crumbles as I grab her cheeks and hold her face possessively in my hands, deepening the already earth-shattering kiss that we find ourselves getting lost in. seductive moans slip from her throat, and greedily, I catch them in my mouth as I continue to kiss her, refusing to let her go.

With our mouths fused and our tongues dueling in an intense, passionate battle of desperation, Calista climbs on my lap, straddling me, gently rocking back and forth. My hands fall from her face to her hips, holding them firmly to help her move the way I want on my lap.

I groan when she pulls her mouth away, keeping her lips ghosting over mine. Still holding her hips while she grinds on me, I open my eyes and come face to face with her open eyes staring deeply into mine, as if something else is on her mind.

“What is it?” I ask, trying to catch my breath.

“Remember that night in the alley—you, Dom, and Kill had those masks on?” Her brow raises into a perfect arch as she waits for my answer.

“I do…”

“Do you still have it?”

“Yeah, I also have a few others; why?” My head tilts as I try to figure out where she’s going with thus.

“Good, go grab one, put on something all black, and meet me back out here. I’ve got something very fucking special planned for you— for us .”