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“I couldn’t do it. I knew…” He gripped me even tighter. “I knew I’d fucked up. I knew it would be hard on you with me in there.” He kissed my lips again softly then pulled away and ran a frustrated hand down his face. “Fuck, Red, I was so fucking worried about you, but with every letter you sent, I knew you could handle this without me. You had to.”
“I didn’t want to,” I said tearfully. “Laz, I almost ran away so many times. She’s so much worse now.”
“We will leave,” he said and pulled me back to him. “You believe me, right? I will get you out of here, I promise.”
I nodded into his chest as he tilted my head up at him.
“You have an objection to being my girl?”
I shook my head no.
I didn’t know why he’d decided I was his in his time away, but I was beside myself with the knowledge he wanted me. Still, a large part of me was wary of his words. It seemed liked so much more time had passed since he’d left. The hell I’d had to endure at home and the hundreds of hours I’d spent daydreaming about my escape and starting a better life. None of those dreams had ever included him, and now I felt guilty as to why. He took me by the hand and made his way to our pond.
We sat for hours as he told me of the friends he’d met in juvie. He’d decided not to go back to school and start working with Cedric’s father. Cedric was hell bent on staying out of trouble, and Laz explained he would be keeping his nose clean until he left for the Army.
“He blames me for the bust, Red. He barely spoke to me in juvie. It was my fault.” Somewhere between his guilt for Cedric came his promises to me. “I’ll make some money, and we’ll get the hell out of here, first chance.” He pulled me to him, engulfing me in his arms. “You are the only reason I came back.”
“I am?”
He simply shook his head as if I should’ve known better and promised me again. “As soon as we have enough money, we are gone.”
With all my heart I wanted to believe him. To trust him to help me escape the hell of my mother and the gun toting traffic that had become more frequent in the last year. I clung to Laz until the sun came up and we were forced to separate. He kissed me again—the kind of kiss full of promise and seemed more important than anything else you could do.
That was the night I learned that a promise in a kiss was a lie.
I came to with the blaring of the interior light and the door chime. How I managed to drift off with a full bladder and burning wrists would remain a mystery. I saw the softness in Daniello’s stare as he assessed me and took the driver’s seat. I remained silent on the drive to my house as he kept me tied up like a dog, full of rage and humiliated. As much as I wanted to assault him with an arsenal of choice words, I remained silent as he glanced at me in the rearview. Once inside my garage, he pulled the seat up quickly and started my release. He sat on the edge of the back seat, blocking my exit as I pumped my hands in an attempt to get the blood flowing.
He was expecting an explosion but instead got a stare full of blatant hatred.
“You want me to be sorry. I will not be. You will get no apology from me.” His tone was arrogant, as if he was speaking to a child after time out.
He really had no idea who he had fucked with.
“As soon as I get a gun in my hands, I’ll be using it on you, so I suggest you make your exit, Daniello, and don’t fucking come back.”
He gripped my arm, and I pulled it away with ease. “I explained to you—”
“I’m done,” I seethed. “This isn’t worth the trouble. You are not worth it! Take your fucking watchdog and leave!”
I saw nothing change in his expression as he watched me. “Get out! Get the fuck out!”
He again reached for my hand, and I slapped it away.
“Fucking lies. Jesus, I’m so used to it,” I mumbled, more to myself than to him.
“What are you saying now, woman? More words you do not mean.” He looked bored, which only fueled my anger. I flew at him, fists balled. “Fucking bastard!”
He laughed as he easily dodged my angry fists.
I worked up the best mock accent I could muster. “I will treat you well.” I curled the L in horrid exaggeration as I snarled at him.
He burst out laughing, and I opened my hand and struck him hard in his smug face.
Before I could register movement, my back was flat against the garage wall, and Daniello’s hand was wrapped around my neck.
“You get in the way of my work again, Taylor Ellison, I will not hesitate to end your life, understood?”
“Hey, asshole, I know my ‘south’ accent is funny to you, but I said it pretty clearly, we”—I gestured between us—“you and I are over.” He let go of my neck as I blew past him and ran to my bathroom, slamming the door behind me. My relief was audible as I drained my bladder, my face in my hands. I was sticky from sweating in the car, and my arms were weak. I felt the anger bubble from inside and couldn’t help the small sob that escaped me. I picked up the clock off the shelf beside me and threw it at the wall. I ripped the clothes from me, taking deep breaths to calm myself. Fighting the urge to make good on my threat, I stepped into the shower. More angry tears bubbled and spilled over as I placed my hand on the shower door in an attempt to calm down.
