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“You think the Price boy will save you? He’s busy.” He sways the poker back and forth. “That bitch Calliope gave birth to a son last night.”
I want to throw dirt at him once again, but my hands don’t listen to me. He doesn’t get to call Aunt Calliope a bitch.
She’s an angel who gives the most warm hugs, sharing her love with us all and basking us in her light. She loves Florian as her own, and he calls her Mom. She legally adopted him because he asked. Her whole big family adores us all.
She’s nothing like Wayne or my mother, and that’s why they hate her. She has a beautiful soul and loves her children.
Florian’s family is what I wish mine was despite his biological mother causing nightmares for her son.
I’m so happy they get to welcome their new son. They were very excited, but my heart weeps at the prospect of never meeting the little boy.
“Beg.”
“Never,” I croak.
He lifts the poker up above my face, ready to add more wounds, when he is hit from behind.
He freezes and then another smack—this time on the back of his knees—and he falls. My eyes widen when I see Florian holding a red brick while Remi has a small shovel.
Wayne sits up and screams, “Have you lost your mind?” To my shock, my friends share a long look and then jump on him, hitting him so hard, he falls on his back, giving him no time to regroup and use his size and age against them.
Hit. Hit. Hit.
Until, for the first time in my life, I see blood on Wayne. Florian pushes Remi away and looks at me, swallowing hard, and delivers several blows straight to Wayne’s face, the cracking sound ringing in the air.
Wayne cries out.
Ah, I could never predict the sound would be so enjoyable.
“Stop, Florian! You’ll kill him!” Remi grabs his shoulders, barely dragging him away from Wayne, who breathes heavily and whimpers. I can’t see him clearly now, but judging by his position, he’s in pain.
Florian drops the brick and spits on Wayne, kicking him for good measure. “Is he even breathing?” Remi asks.
“I don’t care.”
“What if we killed him?”
“What if I killed him, you mean? I was the one to hurt him.” Remi opens his mouth to protest, but Florian’s splayed palm stops him. “I was the only one. Remember that, Remi.” And finally he spins around to properly look at me, our eyes locking as he shakes his head, agony written all over his features.
And as I stare at my friend in this moment, I finally allow myself to let the tears flow.
Allow for my weakness, desperation, and pain to show.
Because Florian is here.
We’ve always been the Four Dark Horsemen, a tight group of four who do everything together.
And then the enemy kidnapped Santiago when we were seven, casting a shadow on our friendship and almost tearing us apart because we couldn’t imagine existing in the world without him.
We became a group of three who waited for their friend to show up even if everyone claimed it was hopeless, a group in which Remi expected to be left out of, yet we’ve done everything in our power to include him.
Florian did most of the work as he paid for all the activities we took part in, dragging Remi even if he didn’t want to go, and protected us both from any school bullshit.
Santiago came back at fifteen, abused and broken, refusing to resume our friendship, and while we accepted it, Remi took it the hardest.
We reunited, but we could never fix what was once broken.
Because in the eight years that Santiago had been gone, we all experienced our individual hell, and it shaped us into vicious creatures hungry for the blood and suffering of those who, according to us, deserved it.
