Page 25 of Massacre

“Massacre?”

“Hmmm.”

“Why did you stay with me that day? Everyone else was busy rescuing the others, yet you stayed with me. Why?”

“Because you needed me to.”

“How did you know that?”

He shrugged. “Saw it in your eyes. I knew you didn’t trust me. Probably never trust another man again, but when I looked into your eyes, your fear froze me in place. I’d only experienced that kind of fear once before. I knew the only way you were leaving that cell was if I could get you to trust me. So, I stayed.”

“You gave me your patch.”

He nodded. “Yes. I did.”

“What did you mean when you said you experienced that kind of fear before? What scared you so badly?”

Massacre sighed. “I was still living in Chicago. My little brother, Reggie, was about to start college. He fell in love with a young girl named Catalina Demarco. She was a sweet, shy girl. Perfect match for Reggie. Well, one day I found my little brother damn near beaten to death. I’d never seen so much blood before. He wasn’t moving, barely breathing. I thought he was dying. When he looked at me, I saw that same fear. My brother isn’t like me. He’s kind and gentle. When he told me it was our cousinswho ordered the beat-down, something inside me snapped. The family I grew up with, loved, no longer mattered. That day, seeing Reggie cling to life, something in me shifted.”

“What happened to Reggie?”

“I picked up my brother and carried him to safety. That day we left Chicago and never looked back.”

“Like you carried me,” I whispered, remembering both times when he held me close to his body as he got me to safety.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“I still have it, you know. The patch you gave me.”

He smirked. “I know. When we saw each other again in Chicago, I saw it on the inside of the sweater you were wearing.”

I looked away, remembering that day. “I don’t know why I wore it. For some reason, I felt safer with it. In a way, it became my talisman. That as long as I had it, nothing bad would happen to me. When I saw you walk in, I thought you were there to take me back. That you changed your mind about setting me free. So I ran away. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t go back there. I wouldn’t survive it again.”

As tears rolled down my eyes, I didn’t hear the cell door open, but when he gathered me in his arms, I hugged his neck hard as he held me while I cried. I cried for my life, the pain, the torment, the fear instilled from birth. The inability to trust, to live my life free of the demons that plagued my dreams. Mainly I cried because I was denied the one thing I truly wanted.

To be loved.

Lying there on the cold concrete, he held me once more, as my body shook with my fears, and for the first time in a long time, I felt safe.

Really, truly safe.

Sometime later, I sniffed and wiped away my tears as I looked at him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cry all over you.”

“No worries, babe. I don’t mind,” he said, gently brushing my hair away from my face. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“I probably look a mess.”

He slowly shook his head. “No. You’re perfect.”

I smiled sadly, feeling a warmth in my chest at his words. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?” I teased gently, trying to lighten the mood. “Even in this godforsaken place.” I gestured to the bare walls of the cell, a reminder of where we were.

Massacre’s expression softened, and he took my hand in his. “You are special, and don’t you forget it.” His voice steady.

I wanted to believe him, but it wasn’t true.

I was just a nobody.

Leaning forward, I placed a gentle kiss on his lips, pouring all my hope and desire into that moment. “Thank you for that,” I whispered against his mouth. “But I’ll never be anything but a whore.”