Page 3 of Tortured Souls
“Thank fuck, you’ve been such a downer the past couple days,” Saint yells to him over the music, which wins him a punch to the chest. Saint is Saxon’s best friend who I’ve noticed has eyes for Sage. But that’s none of my business. I’m a bartender and tend to notice the small things about people that they’d rather keep under wraps. Plus, I’m not so sure Saxon will approve of his baby sister sleeping with his best friend. If that’s even what they’re doing.
“What the fuck, man?” Saint whines, but his big ass can handle a punch or two. The pair of them are equally built andtall as shit. However, Saxon is an inch or two shorter than Saint. Still doesn’t make him any less tall compared to me—I still have to look up to speak to him.
“You sure you’re okay?” Sage asks me, her soft voice bringing me back to the girls.
“Yeah, I’m good. How are you girls?”
“Good! School is starting, as you know, and we wanted the summer to go out with a bang.”
“I get that.” I smile at them before I turn and see Driesell drawing in customers.
“I have to go, but you girls have fun!” We say our goodbyes, and I watch as they head to the dance floor together. A small part of me envies their carefree attitudes and free spirits. As I turn to head back behind the bar, Saxon stands in front of me, blocking me from returning to work.
“Saxon, I don’t have time for this. I need to get back to work,” I say to him, my voice low enough for only him to hear.
“A man by the name of Damien Devonte mean anything to you?” I lift my chin up and meet his dark eyes; they’re so dark they look black sometimes, especially in the club where the lights are dimmed.
“I can’t do this right now, Sax.”
“Just answer the question.”
I ponder the name. Yes, I know who it is, and no, I’m not on good terms with him. The disgusting filth of a man should have been my next victim. Thanks, Diego, for fucking up my plans.
“I’m going to assume you have some information for me.” His deep voice fills my head when he leans in closer to me to whisper. “We’ll talk at closing time.” His warm breath fans across my cheek, and the smell of bourbon and mint fills my nostrils.
He then opens the bar top door for me and ushers me to get back to work. I knew this was coming, but my plans for Damien will not be ruined. Especially not by Saxon Wilder.
14 YEARS OLD
SKYLAR
“Come on now, it’s my twenty-ninth birthday. What are you going to do for me, huh, Sky?” His warm, slimy, sweaty hand rubs against my arm while the scents of cigarettes and booze fill my nose. His breath fans across my ear, and I have to hold my breath to keep the vomit down. “Don’t make me ask again, Sky.”Damien wraps his trembling fingers around my arm as he pulls me even closer to his chest.
Closing my eyes as tightly as I can, I turn my body so my chest doesn’t touch his. I don’t reply to him. How can I? I’m still holding my breath the best I can.
“Your daddy’s going to be so mad at you if you don’t give me what I want.” His threats fill my brain. He’s right, my dad will be mad at me. He doesn’t care about me; he doesn’t care about anything but his godforsaken club.
“Please,” I whisper, the only word I can get out before I hold my breath once more.
“Please what, my dear? You’re going to give me my birthday present like the good little girl you are, and that’s that.” Sweaty fingers slide beneath my tank top strap, hooking the fabric between his middle and pointer finger and sliding the strap slowly down my arm. A tear slides from the corner of my eye, but I don’t want him to see it. I don’t want him to think I’m weak.
“Thank you for wearing this dress, by the way. You’re making it too easy for me to get you just how I want you.” I mentally scold myself for choosing a dress. Out of all the days to wear a dress, why did I choose today? Snot starts to drip from my nose as a sob attempts to escape my throat. I can’t help it. I don’t want this. Who would at fourteen years old, and with this low-life piece of scum that belongs in the deepest pits of hell?
“Aww don’t cry, my sweet baby doll. You’ll like it, I promise. I’ll be gentle… at first.” I can’t help it, the sobs that flow from my mouth are all-consuming. Why me? Why was I born into this fucked-up family? I hate it. I hate everyone. I hate everything.God, if you’re listening, please take me now before I have to endure what’s to come. I don’t want this. Please.
PRESENT
I was fourteen. So young, so pure, so vulnerable. He took everything from me that day, and I’ve lived with that disgust every single day since. Nine years, nine long, painful years, I’ve had to live with that day burned into my brain, scarring my psyche and leaving me feeling like the last piece of garbage to decay in the landfill. No amount of showers, scrubbing, cutting—hell, even burning—can take away the feeling of the black smoke that has covered every inch of my soul since that day.
No one knows, and if Saxon thinks I’m telling him anything about Damien Devonte, he is sadly mistaken. That piece of shit is mine, and I have a plan for him. I won’t let Saxon ruin my revenge just so he can get answers about his father’s killer. I have my agenda while he has his. However, mine is a little more important than his. At least in my mind.
I’m washing up the last of the bar dishes when the burning sensation of someone’s gaze settles on the side of my face. I know it’s him. He’s been sitting in the same booth all night. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that. Saint left with the girls earlier; he insisted that he’d make sure they all get home safe. Saxon didn’t argue. There’s nothing more important to Saxon than his family, and his baby sister is his top priority. Deep down, though, I know why Saint wanted to take them home, and if Saxon wasn’t completely blind, he’d notice it too.
I continue cleaning up and look at the clock beside the register and see it’s a little after three in the morning. Fuck, I’mtired. This has been a night from hell, but I can’t complain. The tips were the highest they’ve ever been for a Monday night.
Heavy boot steps make their way to the bar, and I refrain from looking up at him. His presence alone is suffocating at times, but I’ll never show him the effect he has on me. I won’t give another man the pleasure of knowing how my body betrays me by just being in the same room as them.
“Stop delaying the inevitable, Sky. We’re both tired, so let’s just get on with the conversation already.”