Page 17 of Tortured Souls
“Sky, I’m going to take you home now and get you cleaned up.” I hadn’t noticed, but Saxon is currently kneeling in front of me. Looking up at his face, I scan every drop of blood, the deep red color drying over and hardening against his golden skin. I lift my fingers and gently brush over his eyebrow where blood had dipped into the crease of his scar. The blood has already dried against the raised skin, and my fingers are unsuccessful at trying to wipe it away. Saxon’s large hands are covering both my knees, his eyes set on my face as I continue my exploration of the dead man’s blood.
“How’d you get this scar?” I don’t know why I ask. The question slips from my lips before I even have time to process what I’m asking. I’m so tired, so very tired. The fight in me dying as quickly as it came. I’ve never not known how to feel. I’m angry, furious even, but also blanketed with an overwhelming sadness. Damien dying was supposed to fix me, but it hasn’t. I’m still broken, a million little pieces floating around my body, refusing to fuse together again.
“One day, when Sage and I were little, we were walking home from school. A man drove by and stopped a few feet in front of us. The man got out of the car and came rushing at us, holding a knife. He told us to get in the car. The man was tweaking on something, his hair matted to his forehead from sweat. His eyes were so dilated there was no color left.”
“What did you do?” I whisper, while Saxon’s hand plays with another piece of my hair as he continues.
“I put Sage behind my back and when the man got close enough, I attacked him. He only got one good swipe with his shitty knife before I was able to take it from him. I was twelve. Sage was six.” Brushing my thumb over his scar one more time, I ask him another question.
“What happened to the man?”
“Does it matter?”
Not knowing how to respond, I drop my hand back to my side. Does it matter that a bad man is dead? Because he most certainly is dead. If I know anything about Saxon at all, it’s to never try to hurt his family. We stare at each other for a long moment, his story and the events of tonight lingering in the air.
A grunt has me breaking eye contact as I watch Saint carry the monster beneath the tarp through the door we came in. I don’t say anything else; I stand and follow behind Saint as the three of us make our way back to the world above.
Once I emerge from the stairwell, I inhale a deep breath. It’s started to cool down, the last bit of the summer’s air filling my lungs. It’s gotten dark, and the forest above me is eerie as the trees’ branches bend with the wind, making cracking noises all around us.
“I’m going to drive you back to your apartment. Saint will follow us.”
“What are you going to do with him?” I turn my head, watching the guys slam the trunk of Saint’s vehicle. They turn to face me, their facial expressions calm and giving no indication of remorse, or anything, for that matter. Both men are like stone, their frozen faces staring at me, blank from years of learning how not to show emotion.
“Don’t concern yourself with that. Get in.” Saxon opens my passenger door, then makes his way to the driver’s side, gettingin my car and starting the engine. I do what he says, getting in my passenger seat and settling in.
The drive is relatively short. It looks like we entered a piece of property that’s near where I know Saxon lives. I have no doubt he owns this land—why would he have a torture room underground of someone else’s property?
“Surprised you didn’t blindfold me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Maybe I’ll tell someone where your secret hideout is,” I say confidently as I continue staring out the window. I knew the dangers of what I was doing, taunting Saxon, but I didn’t care. Not tonight.
“You could tell someone, but you won’t. Because then someone may find out aboutyourlittle basement hideout.” Twisting my head to face him, I’m dumbfounded. How does he know about the basement at Vice? What the hell?
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb, Skylar. I know the behaviors of someone who’s taken a life before, and you, tesoro, are anything but an angel. A killer recognizes a killer, baby.”
I feel my neck heating up. My mouth opens, but I have nothing to say. I snap it shut, my nerves suddenly on high alert. How does he know?I want to hit him again; I want him to feel the same tsunami of emotions that’s drowning me from the inside. We both had our reasons for wanting Damien dead, and while the end result was always going to be the same; it’s clear we both have our own agendas. Our own techniques for seeking out revenge. Damien, in one way or another, hurt both of us. Saxon lost his father because of him, and I lost a piece of my soul. While this connects us in a way, I can’t imagine after tonight Saxon and I will be buddy buddies.
The rest of the drive is silent, my thoughts racing with Saxon’s comment. I know I’m no angel. No one would be,especially if they grew up the way I did. It would sound crazier if I grew up as a completely normal human being. I’ve also never tried to hide who I am. Except for the fact that I’ve killed people—I like to keep that part under wraps. So how does he know what I do in my spare time? Maybe it’s a trick, and he doesn’t know all the details of my hobbies.
My mind is in shambles, and when the car comes to a stop in the parking lot of Vice, I’m startled when Saxon opens my door for me. Stepping out of my car, I head towards the door behind the club that leads to my apartment. Saxon says something quick to Saint, who’d pulled up beside my car. The pair exchange words before Saxon turns and follows me through my door.
“You can go now; I don’t need an escort to my apartment.”
“Just keep walking, Sky. You’re not fighting me on this.” I continue up the stairwell and unlock my door at the top of the stairs. Opening my door, I step through and immediately take off my shoes and start towards my bathroom. With my hand on my bathroom door, I turn around to see Saxon closing and locking my door behind him.
“Really, Saxon. You can go. I’m fine. I can handle myself.”
“I know you can, but I’d feel better if you’d let me make sure for myself.”
“So, what are you going to do, wait for me to shower and tuck me in?” My eyes stay on his large frame as he crosses my small apartment and stands in my personal space, his height towering over me.
“No, I’m going to clean you up and then tuck you in.”
“Saxon, I don’t ne?—”