Page 17

The New Me

D riving the dead man’s car back to The Ring with the guy’s bikes rumbling behind me, I let the time and silence soothe my thoughts.

The evil from the man feels like it is staining me, coating my skin, making me ache to scrub at it.

I pull up right to the gate of The Ring and slip out of the car. The guards watch me as I approach.

“Get Major.”

One of them nods, I lean back against the hood of the car and wait.

Jax joins me to my left and Drax to my right; Maxen and Thorn stand next to the car.

We only have to wait five minutes before I see him.

He strolls down the path with his guards flanking him, his suit still impeccable.

It pisses me off that he still looks so put together when I feel like I have blood and death all over me.

When he stops before me, I chuck the keys at him.

He manages to snatch them before they hit his chest.

“It’s yours, but I want a room for the next month held under my name and someone to send word to Nan that the job is complete.”

He nods at me with a small smile. At least this way I don’t have to ride back to The Rim.

I was planning on it but it would be pointless now.

I figured the guys would have seen the Wastes and demanded to be taken back, but it looks like they are stronger than I gave them credit for.

The fact that it will piss Nan off to see some courier rather than me is just an added bonus.

“Anything else?” He flicks some dust off his shoulder as he asks, before delicately passing the keys to the nearest guard. As I step closer to him and I can sense all the men tensing behind me.

“Yeah, a bottle of your best. Oh, and food sent up.” With that I walk around him, my men following.

I only stop because Major calls my name.

I don’t bother to turn around. At this point, I am almost counting down the steps between here and my room, needing to be alone to try and push the feeling of the man away.

The way his eyes lit up, the noise, all of it feels like a violation in my mind .

“I’m glad you killed that bastard, he was bad for business.” His voice rings out loud and clear.

I swallow down my protest, I know he doesn’t care what the man did.

It took me a long time to realise everything he does is for the good of his business, so the times he stopped the abuse of me inside The Ring?

It was because his customers couldn’t see it happening, after all, they are paying to see people hurt - what good would it do if we came into the pit already broken?

I know this deep down but I still like to think a small part of him wanted to help.

Breathing in deep, I force myself to start walking again, heading towards the back of the zoo, bypassing the pit.

Hidden behind the empty enclosures is a building.

I don’t know what it was before, but now its room and lodging for the fighters and the clan leaders when needed.

A three-story white building covered in peeling paint.

With large rounded windows, stone steps leading up to the building.

Two guards with massive swords stand at either side of the wooden door to keep the slaves in and the rabble out.

I don’t bother waiting for them to tell me which room is mine, I head to the one I always use.

It’s at the back of the property, with only one way in or out.

The best bit? It has an old balcony off the back window that overlooks the Waste.

It always allowed me to lose myself in the view and made my problems seem small in comparison.

The men are silent as they follow behind me. I leave them to their thoughts. The bright green door of my once upon a time refuge has me taking in a deep breath. Using my spare key I let myself in.

The stale air hits me first, making me wrinkle my nose.

At least I know that no one else has been in here.

The grey carpet is still soft and I kick my boots off by the door so I don’t trek mud and dust through it.

The room is large and runs all along the back wall of the building.

There is an open-plan living room with a table and chairs and even a sofa.

An old TV hangs on the wall, useless as it is now.

There’s a mini fridge hidden in the corner as well.

Two doors face each other at opposite sides of the expansive room, one to the bathroom and one to the bedroom.

“Make yourself at home. There’s a shower through there. It’s cold, but it works,” I say over my shoulder.

I head straight for the back of the room where two double doors sit propped open, leading onto the balcony.

Stepping through them, the stone cool on my bare feet, I let my head fall back and breathe in the crisp air.

The others talking breaks me out of my bubble, so I wander to the edge of the balcony and lean over the wall looking at the world spread below me.

The stone wall is the only thing stopping me from falling to my death.

When I stayed here as a slave, I used to debate just stepping over the edge.

It would be so easy, but every time I went to do it something held me back.

I used to claim the excuse of revenge and the thought of one day being free but the truth?

I was terrified. It made me realise I didn’t want to die.

No matter how shitty my life was, I wanted to live.

Someone’s boots stomp onto the stone behind me but I stay facing the land.

I was always alone here and that was fine by me, but now that I know what it feels like to have someone have your back, an intense wave of loneliness hits me.

I was the one who ran away. Away from here, into my own little world, so used to it being alone.

To bottling everything up and only relying on me.

So now I don’t know how to let them in, to lean on them when I need them.

When I feel him step behind me, my heart slows from its galloping pace and it’s easier to breathe, I almost gasp as the air hits my lungs.

I used to be so good at hiding my emotions, the hard-won mask I wore only to be taken down when I was alone.

Now, the familiar comfort of nothingness is gone, wiped away by a few comments and smiles from them.

That place I escaped to during the hardest days of my life is cold and empty and no longer appealing. What have they done to me?

“You want to shower first?” I turn in shock. No one turns down a shower, but I figured I would go last. Jax stands waiting for my answer, somehow I knew it would be him. He gets me. The silent warrior understands me better than I seem to understand myself.

“Why?” There’s nothing I can do to hide my suspicion and desperation in my voice. I have an almost clawing need for him to tell me why he cares.

“You need to wash away the feel of him.” His voice holds no pity or judgement, just truth.

That’s all he says before he turns and leaves me to my thoughts.

He’s right of course, my skin is almost crawling with the memory of him.

I watch Jax’s retreating back, how did he know what I needed before I even did?

Most of all, why does he care? Questions swirl in my head as I hesitantly step into the room.

Even though they didn’t seem to care what I did, I feel like at any minute they will turn on me, calling me a monster like so many do.

To see disgust and hatred in their eyes would break me.

Sometime along the roads in this godforsaken place, I’ve come to care and rely on these men, they’ve stripped me bare before them.

My horrors, guilt, and loneliness clear to see.

That scares me more than any Berserker ever could.

They’re spread around the room, busy unpacking.

I don’t make eye contact with them, I keep my head down and my focus on the bathroom.

My world narrows down to me and the steps leading to that door.

If I don’t look, I’ll never know the feel of them rejecting me.

Rushing through the door, I shut it behind me.

Leaning my head against the cracked wood, I close my eyes and take a deep breath .

One breath at a time Tazzy, you can do this. In and out, in and out. Good girl, you can do this, baby. You can do whatever you set your mind to.

I let my dad’s words soothe me as I follow his instructions, letting the words that he used to say to me when I was scared wash through me.

Once I feel more whole, I strip off my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

I don’t want to look in the mirror but my eyes rise anyway.

I look different, there’s no denying it.

The last time I looked in this mirror, my hair was shorn short from where I hacked at it with a knife so that no one could ever use it against me again.

Now it hangs in waves to my hips, the top a dark brown and then lightening to blonde.

The hopeless defeated look has left my eyes, now they sparkle with hope and determination.

No bruises, whip marks or wounds litter my body like Ivar’s favourite painting.

Instead, my skin is tanned and glows with health.

My face has filled out, no longer starved.

So have my hips, I now have curves, no bones peeking out for all to see.

My boobs have grown too. My muscles are still there, but bigger.

All together I look healthy, something I never thought I would be.

I don’t cringe or feel sick, not even the slave brand makes me turn away.

My body feels like mine once again, not his.

When I do turn away, it is out of choice, not repulsion.