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“What others?”
“Oh, you thought I was the protection?” I snigger. “I’ve always been the one out the two of us with the balls, Tommy, but even I ain’t got the meat to go up against a gang of skinners. Not to save your weedy ass anyway. Nah, I mean I’ll call off the others who were gonna watch your back.”
“What others?” He sounds intrigued now, andsits up a little straighter…
“Guerro and his crew,” I nod my head over at them, the other inmates show them respect, because all of them are well built and handy. They pretty much run shit in here. “Then there's that big fucker over there…” I gesture over at the dark-skinned mountain of a man on the other side of the fence. “Brax fucked up the man who raped his sister a few months ago. He owes the club a favor. And of course we got a couple of guards,” I say casually.
“What guards?” Tommy really does look interested now.
“What does it matter, you don’t need the club's protection so I’ll just leave ya here to worry about yourself.”
“No, wait. What does Jimmer want? Why would he do all this after…”
“…After your papa fucked and killed his brother's wife. And if I remember correctly, not in that order,” I sneer back at him.
“What does he want from me?” Tommy asks again.
“You know what he wants.” I lean down making sure my body overpowers his Skinny frame.
“I don’t know where he is.” He looks up at me and I know he’s lying.
“We’ll see. Perhaps getting double dicked by two skinners might jog your memory.”
I walk away and leave him to think on that, taking myself to a quiet spot of my own out of everyone else’s way. Where I can be alone with just my thoughts.
Thoughts of her, that cut deep and scar like a jagged knife. And memories that I refuse to blank out because as crazy as it sounds,I actually like the way they hurt.
“You are not wearing that, tell her, Penelope, she’s not wearing that.” Mother's face looks horrified when I go down for breakfast.
And Penelope looks at me awkwardly. “Perhaps, we could find you something a little more appropriate, Miss Jackson,” she suggests tactfully.
“She has something to wear. We picked something out at the Mall last week,” Mom informs her like I’m not even in the room.
“Correction, you picked me something out in the mall last week,” I argue back.
A lot has changed since Nyx got himself thrown in jail four months ago. For a start, I no longer feel sorry for my mother. She chooses to live with a monster. She chose this life for us, and I hate her for it. As soon as I have enough money saved up, I’ll be taking matters into my own hands.
If Nyx leaving has taught me anything, it’s that no one can be relied on. You want to get shit done, you own that shit yourself. He wasn’t my escape from my father, he wasn’t the hero I convinced myself he’d be. The only person getting me out of this place is gonna be me.
“It’s your graduation, the whole town will be there, the local news is doing a feature, you need to look presentable.” A throat clearing interrupts the start of one of Mom’s rants, and my stomach flips over on itself when I feel him enter the room behind me.
“What’s the problem?”
“A misunderstanding, sir,” Penelope chirps in, taking my hand and pulling me towards the hall. “Me and Miss Jackson are going to start getting ready for the ceremony.” I let her drag me up the stairs, with a look of warning on her face.
She locks the door behind me when we get inside my room, and I’m about to protest when she shakes her head at me.
“Ella, I know your heart hurts,” she starts, surprising me when she actually uses my name. I’ve spoken to Penelope about everything since I’d been old enough to put sentences together, but I haven’t spoken to her about Nyx. I haven’t spoken to anyone about him, not even Abby. It’s too painful.
“I…” I start trying to explain but she cuts me off.
“I know your plans, and you can’t afford for your father to get suspicious. You must make him think he controls you too if you are going to get away.” I look at her, trying my best to fake confusion. The less people know about my plan, the better. I trust Penelope, but I also know how much she needs this job.
“But I…”
“Shhh. Now put this on,” she pulls the smart knee-length dress Mom insisted would be the perfect graduation dress from my wardrobe. “Just a while longer, Miss Ella, and you will have all your heart’s desires,” she tells me, unlocking my door and slipping back out into the hall.
I huff in frustration because she’s right. So far my plan isn’t doing so great. I have about three hundred bucks from last month’s allowance saved up in cash, and when I’d put the idea of getting a summer job to Mom last week she’d looked at me as if I needed a head check. “Why dear, you have everything you need?” being her response.
