Page 49 of Tortured Souls
“Saxon, you’re a smart man. So how is it that you could have believed she was a snitch just like that?” He snaps his fingers as he says the last word. She told him.
“She’s been running from her life for two years, maybe even longer. She’s been doing any and everything she can to lie low, and before you say she came here to spy on you, answer me this. Who pursued who? I like to think I know Sky pretty well, and I could almost bet my life that you sought her out. Not the other way around.”
Have you ever had the feeling that someone just reached inside your chest and used your lungs as a punching bag? The guilt is so heavy it’s currently turning my insides black with an inky thick, paste-like substance that’s coating every inch of me. What started off as a dull ache now feels like someone is holding me under water until I think I’m going to pass out, only to be brought to the surface to taste the sweetness of air. Mack’s right. I was the one who sought her out. Fuck, I’m a stalker for Christ’s sake. I’ve installed cameras in her apartment just so I could watch her. That whole time, not once did I see her communicating with anyone from her past life. She never called anyone, never checked in with someone, so how could she have been a spy? Plus, this news of her heading back to her hometown to off her parents, like she originally planned, should be enough of a sign that I was wrong. So fucking wrong. How could I have been so utterly stupid? As if seeing my spiraling, Mack breaks the silence.
“Listen, I have an idea, but I don’t know if it will work.” At this point, I’ll do anything to speak with her.
“She agreed to meet me tonight for dinner before she leaves.”
“Where?” I ask in such haste, Mack doesn’t have time to finish his sentence.
“It’s actually not a dinner. I was going to bring her to a Uptown Rage Rooms in hopes it would help release some of her anger. It’s a last-ditch effort to stop her from leaving. She doesn’t know it’s a rage room. She just thinks we’re having dinner.” I scoff at the idea that Sky could benefit from a rage room. Little does Mack know, Sky has been dabbling in her own types of rage rooms in the basement of Vice with her victims.
“As much as she’ll hate me for talking to you, I need you to talk some sense into her. I need you to make her see that she won’t survive this.” The room grows heavy with the thought of losing Sky.
“I won’t let her leave,” I say matter-of-factly. I can’t lose her like this. I can’t let her go and fucking get herself killed because I was an asshole and didn’t believe her. I need to make this right. I need to fix this mistake and show her that I’m sorry and I won’t let her do this alone. I can’t lose the only woman I’ve ever loved. If I can’t convince her, well, that’s too fucking bad. She’s not leaving.
SKYLAR
Mack:
I’m already here. I’m inside.
I pocket my cell after getting out of my car and stare at a building that is most certainly not a restaurant. Which is too bad because I’m starving.
“Uptown Rage Rooms,” I say to myself and then laugh at the fact that Mack tricked me into coming here. I feel bad for scaring this old man, but he knows how important this is to me. Plus, what else is there for me anyway? I make my way to the front ofthe building and swing open the door. I look over my shoulder at the parking lot one more time and notice that Mack’s old, beat-up truck isn’t out there. Yet he just texted me saying he was inside. What is he up to?
Stepping into the lobby, I’m greeted by a small girl who doesn’t look a day over eighteen. Her big smile stretches across the span of her face, and her wild black hair drapes in front of her delicate features.
“Welcome to Uptown Rage Rooms!” she practically screeches at me, her small voice piercing my ears. I give her a warm smile as I approach the front desk.
“Are you with a group or by yourself?” She begins tapping on the computer in front of her and I notice she’s standing on a milk crate just to reach the counter.
“Um, well, I’m supposed to be meeting someone. Mack?” I say his name like a question. Her gaze snaps back to me as if his name startled her.
“Oh yes, he’s already inside. He told me to get you suited up and bring you back.” You know when you can tell someone is lying to you, but they have no reason to be? That’s the look this young girl is giving me right now. She couldn’t be more obvious that she’s hiding something. Shifty eyes, fidgeting fingers, and not being able to hold eye contact are just a few of her behaviors that started the second I said Mack’s name.
“Right,” I say, drawing out the word as I narrow my eyes on her. She hops off her crate and steps in front of me. I follow her to a small room behind the counter and watch as she starts grabbing protective gear from the walls. A full white jumpsuit, pair of goggles and a pair of gloves are handed to me. She’s still unable to look me in the eye.
“Right, as soon as you get dressed, I can take you back. All the tools are in the room, and everything is already set up for you to have some fun.” I’ve never been to a rage room, but I understandhow they work. Really, it’s just a room filled with breakable items such as plates, glasses, mirrors—really anything that’s easily breakable. The person then chooses a weapon, which is almost always a bat, and they get to break any and everything inside the room. That’s really it.
Honestly, it sounds fun, but I’m quickly realizing that Mack is probably doing this in hopes I will release some of my anger towards my parents and not leave tomorrow.Sorry to break it to you, Mack, but spending an hour breaking things is not going to dismiss the years of trauma my family put me through.It was worth a shot though, and I admire his persistence in trying to get me to change my mind.
She brings me to room six and stops at the door.
“Here you are. Have fun. When you’re done, a small alarm will go off. Leave all weapons in the room, and I will be waiting for you out here.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond; she turns and practically runs back to the lobby. That was fucking weird. I turn towards the door, twist the knob, and pull it open. Stepping inside, I let the door close behind me, taking in the room full of china, mirrors, a few TVs and other knickknacks that will be easy to break.
“Alright, Mack. Why am I—” I turn to my left and freeze. Instead of coming face-to-face with Mack, it’s the one person I’ve been avoiding for the past two months. The person who taught me how to love, only to crush my soul in the most painful of ways. My heart that once beat for his affection is now solid ice, freezing more and more inside my chest. An organ that’s so vital for every other system to survive died a slow, painful death the moment those elevator doors closed between us. Why?
“Saxon?” My voice comes out in a squeak.
“Hello, tesoro.” I shake my head from side to side, a cruel smile pulling at my lips. How dare he call me a pet name as if he didn’t obliterate my heart two months ago? As if he didn’t pointhis gun at my chest and make me believe for a split second, he was going to kill me? Without thinking, I pull my gun from the back of my waist band and point the barrel at his chest. Dead center.
“How does it feel to have a gun pointed at you, huh?” I seethe. My face grows hotter with all the emotions this man conjures within me, swirling in a dangerous crescendo of destruction. My heart has never beat so fast in my life, and I fear it may burst.
“It wouldn’t be the first time, baby.”
“Stop calling me your little pet names, Saxon. I’m nothing to you.” I spit my words. They taste like venom leaving my mouth, but they’re true. I was nothing to this man, even when I thought differently. The sting of the realization is too much. I clear my throat, straightening my posture and hold steady, my eyes fixed on the tattoo on his throat. The beautiful flower that reaches to the back of his neck. I can’t look into his eyes. I don’t want to try to decipher why he’s here or how he’s feeling. I need to stay strong. For me.