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Safe.
Loved.
It’s like a switch flips in my head, a heavy burden lifted off my shoulder as I regard Cruz and step out of Dalton’s embrace. I stand before him until he can only see me.
“I could never love you, Cruz. You are incapable of something that involves the heart. Love isn’t just a feeling you think you have up here." I point towards my head and then draw my fingers down to place them over my heart. “It’s also right here. It’s beating strong when you see that person smile for the first time. Their joy is your joy, happiness, sadness, anger… Everything you feel for them, they return the same feelings.” I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat, and drag my hand further down until my fingertips graze my pussy.
I collect some of the cum there and draw my hand away to place it in front of his face, showing him the wetness and stickiness that’s between my legs.
“I asked for this. I wanted it. I begged for them. That’s consent and love. I could never give you that. I feel sorry for you. You’ll never know what it feels like to love, and that’s one thing that someone should experience at least once,” I tell him, seeing he’s holding onto every word I’m saying as his eyes go blank, no longer listening as he realizes I’m right.
“This is mercy from me. You deserve less, but I’m not you. Goodbye Cruz,” I say, grabbing the knife Dalton handsme and placing it right over Cruz’s heart, slowly putting pressure on the halt until the blade starts to sink into his flesh, pass tissue, veins, and finally into the beating muscle of his heart.
I don’t look away. I watch the life bleed out of his eyes until he’s gone for good. I step back, leaving the knife in his flesh where it belongs. No one says anything as Tey walks over to the control panel and messes with the switches until a grinding sound echoes into the night. I follow Cruz’s body with my eyes as he moves over on the crane until his limp body is hovering over the deep, dark sea. I nod my head, knowing my men are watching my every move as they close in on me for support until I can only feel their warmth.
“Do it,” I whisper and watch the crane release the hook. Cruz’s body is suspended for a split second before he’s dropped down towards the ocean. I don’t exhale until I hear the splash of his body hitting the water. Heavy sobs shake my chest as my eyes become blurry. I can’t see who’s touching me, but I know it’s my guys offering their support and comfort.
It’s finally over.
I can finally breathe for the first time in a long time.
“Can we go? I’m ready to go home,” I say this into the night, huddling closer to my guys.
I want Tey’s, Logan's, Dalton's, Nicky's, and Dom’s arms wrapped around me in our bed. I want to lay around in bed with them because nothing calls us away, and I want to just sleep for a long time—dreamless sleep.
Finally. It’s over.
Rig
Istare at the TV hanging on the wall in the corner, the news station about to start its live coverage of tonight's six o'clock news. I reach for the remote attached to my bedside and mute the TV just before I weakly sink into the hospital bed while closing my eyes. It’s been a blur ever since last night.
I take that back; it’s been a blur for a few years. Ever since that little fucking shit, Cruz has drugged me and left me at a psychiatric hospital. Some days, I’m not sure if what I’m seeing in front of me is real or not. I am still drugged up and stuck in a wheelchair in front of my patient bedroom with only a view of the forest, or did Cruz really pull me out? Did he take me away from the horrible place he threw me in, or did he stop those god-awful drugs only to torture me once I was lucid with the knowledge my daughter was raped by the club? I used to call those men my brothers, and they did the most horrendous thing a father never wants to hear about his own kid. My memory is foggy most days. At times, I thought I was hallucinating Cruz coming for a visit and telling stories about my Tillie. It felt like an endless nightmare that just kept comingback to haunt me. The moment I was weaned off the pharmaceutical drugs, the side effects haven’t been pleasant, but it’s the least I deserve. I’ve failed my Tillie as a father, the one person who was supposed to protect her. I wake up with a fever most days, shivering but running hot. My skin feels extra sensitive, and the hospital bed sheets feel itchy. The full-body jerks out of nowhere will probably never go away; the muscle spasms wake me up in the middle of the night, though sometimes that’s a good thing. I shut my eyes and only see her sweet, sixteen-year-old face—so innocent to the world around her.
God. I’ve failed so much. I should have gotten her out sooner.
I inhale a shaky breath, licking my dry lips, and open my eyes to reach weakly for my water on the bedside table. My hand pauses midair as my gaze locks on the brown eyes staring at me from the open doorway. I feel like my heart is going to pound out of my chest. The wires hooked up to the hospital machines tell their own story of what I’m feeling as the heart monitor starts to go crazy.
“Rig,” she whispers, her bottom lip trembling as she slowly steps into the room warily but freezes when she sees me trying to sit up in my bed but keep failing.
I’m weak, only skin and bones from years of starving and living off drugs. I fall back on the hospital bed with a shaky exhale and a small coughing fit. She stares at me like a deer in the headlights, hardly blinking as she stands half-way in the door and one foot out. My eyes fill with tears as I raise one arm hesitantly, not knowing if she will want to be hugged by me after I’ve abandoned her.
“Dad,” she chokes out with a sob leaving her lips and quickly crosses the room, which feels like miles away, until my Tillie is in my arms, finally.
“I’m sorry, Til. So sorry.” I feel my throat close as tears fillmy eyes. My little girl is hugging me back as if she’ll never let go.
She climbs onto the bed and curls up to my side, squeezing me so tight as if afraid to let go. I return the feeling. I’m so scared this is a dream, and I’m going to wake up with my arms empty and Tillie far, far away.
“No. I knew you didn’t just leave me. I knew it,” she sobs into my chest, her shoulders shaking as I hold her with my head resting on top of hers while tears trail down my cheeks.
“I’ll never leave you again, pumpkin,” I rasp out and just hold my daughter as she cries years of pain.
We don’t say anything for a while; just absorbing this is real. I can hear nurses and the machines of other patients out in the hall, and I can hear the sound of my Tillie’s wrecking sobs dying down after a while. I can only blink slowly at the TV, not really seeing the news, but my attention is pulled away from a male throat clearing from the doorway. Tillie sniffles and leans up to sit up on the edge of the bed but refuses to let go of my hand.
“Hey. I have coffee,” a man says, holding up crappy hospital coffee, and steps inside as Tillie smiles at him and holds out her hand.
I watch him warily, squeezing Tillie’s hand as he reaches my bedside, and it clicks why he looks so familiar as his light brown eyes connect with mine. He was there last night, even though it’s all fuzzy around the edges for me, but I remember his fear for my daughter as he lost his shit and threw a chair out a window.
Logan. That’s his name.
