Tattered Bodies By Shae Ruby

 

CHAPTER 1- DAMIEN

 

The sting of betrayal cuts deep when it’s inflicted by the one person you love most in the entire world. I’m not saying I don’t deserve it, in fact, I know I do. For some deluded reason though, I never imagined it would be Hallie giving me a taste of my own medicine. I thought I knew pain before now, but nothing compares to this helpless feeling coursing through my body as I watch her run up the stairs and out the door. To her fate. Her fucking undoing.

I grab the bedsheets and bring them to my side, trying to stop the bleeding as much as I can, but it just keeps pouring out of the gaping wound, as open as the hole in my weak fucking heart, and soaking the sheets faster than I can replace them. The phone sits on the bed right next to my knee, mocking me, and I pick it up and attempt to get off the bed. 

Hot, searing, soul crushing pain invades my body, stealing my breath as I clutch my side and lean into it. My feet must weigh at least a thousand pounds each, and my small shuffles toward the stairs won’t get me anywhere any time soon. Somehow, I still have a small glimmer of hope that Hallie didn’t get far. Maybe I can still find her if she ran on foot. My truck keys are too far from me, but what she probably didn’t remember from the airport is that I keep a spare hidden behind my front license plate. 

It takes insane effort to put one foot in front of the other and climb the stairs, more like crawl up them. On all fours. After what feels like hours, and at least seven pauses, I finally make it to the top. The basement door is wide open, she didn’t give me much of a chance here. 

Does she even fucking care? 

Did she lie about loving me? 

She threw me to the fucking wolves here. I’m lucky no one is in this house finishing what they started.

Hallie didn’t just stab my side, she also stabbed me in the back, and the heart. I can’t even believe she did it, I didn’t see that shit coming at all. Not in a million years. Yet here I am, remembering her sweaty hand on my knife, plunging it deep between my ribs. The look in her eyes when she did it, the way she apologized before pulling it out, will haunt my nightmares until I find her again. The way she cried, looking at me like a deer in the headlights will be tattooed into my broken heart forever. I will, however, never accept her goodbye, like I was nothing to her. ‘I was never meant to stay’ she said to me. Well, fuck that. I’m getting her back and she’s fucking staying.

Rage pulses through me, directing my steps to the garage with newfound energy, even through the pain. I’m going to find her, probably in the fucking woods somewhere, and drag her to the truck by the fucking hair. I might be all fucked up right now, but she’s not stronger than me. 

The spare keys are exactly where I left them last, and even though the truck is freezing I truly don’t have time to warm it up. My shirt is completely soaked in blood, and I shiver as I close the door, turn the key in the ignition, and attempt to blast the heat. Fuck me, because that shit is blowing colder air than outside.

I peel out of the garage, not giving a fuck about the pile of snow behind the truck, and pause to look around. I don’t expect to see her, she’s probably deep in the woods knowing her. But she just won’t stop making stupid fucking choices. She didn’t even have snow boots on for fuck’s sake. I lower my window a few inches just in case I can hear her, and scan the snow for any signs of her. Just a few seconds later I spot her tiny little fucking footprints leading toward a tree line, and I start driving toward it. As I get closer though, I hear a scream, and suddenly everything is silent again.

Fuck.

What the fuck have you done, Hallie?

I drive toward the sound, but by the time I get there all that is left is her black running shoe and spattered blood on the snow. 

No. No.

Sharp pain shoots to my side as my fists land repeatedly on the steering wheel, making my wound feel like it’s on fire and opening even more, and I try to take deep breaths but it’s getting more difficult and even more painful by the minute. I hate to say it, but maybe now is the time to go to a hospital. I’m in no shape to go after her. I only have two weapons in this vehicle, and knowing what I know, they will be driving straight to wherever the fuck they’re headed. Mexico, I assume. They will not be making any stops unless absolutely necessary, and they sure as fuck will not be staying anywhere for me to catch up to. As far as I’m concerned though, I will not make it very far with broken ribs and a stab wound, so there’s no way I can save her right now. 

I take the next right turn and get on the main road to head into town, and right about now I’m grateful for my off road tires and the traction they provide because I need to speed to the hospital at this point. 

A violent cough takes over me, making me double over onto the steering wheel as I finally make it into town. Bile rises to the back of my throat and it tastes like I’m sucking on pennies, but when I attempt to swallow it down it starts to pour out of my mouth. I bring my hand to my chin to wipe it off, just to realize it’s fucking blood. Goddamnit, I better not die from internal bleeding because someone has to go after this little bitch.

Yeah, I think I kind of fucking hate her right now, but can I really blame her for wanting to leave? Even though it was for the best, I did keep her prisoner. She already didn’t want to be with me, but when I did that I can imagine it pissed her off even more. But whatever, she needs to get over herself and realize that I was trying to help her. Now she’s well and truly fucked. 

I manage to park the truck—like fucking shit, by the way, but I’m injured so they need to give me a break—and wobble across the parking lot and into the emergency department’s lobby. I don’t make it very far though, in fact, just a few feet from the receptionist desk, I collapse. 

My body feels cold, heavy, numb. Something is fucking wrong. Probably the fact that I’ve lost half my body weight in blood, but hey, no big deal. 

Thanks Hallie. 

There’s a commotion, and I don’t have to turn my head to know that every nurse available is rushing to me right about now. My eyes become unfocused on the ceiling lights, and floating little white orbs take over my vision. I barely register movement, and I’m assuming they’re carrying me somewhere, but at this point my eyes can’t stay open anymore either. 

I’m aware that I should be hating Hallie right about now, and maybe I do hate her a little at least, but not for the reasons I should. Somehow, I don’t hate her for stabbing me. No. I fucking hate her because she made me love her, risk everything for her, then rejected me. I gave her all of me, and she shit on it. She fucked me over when all I’ve ever done is protect her and try to get us to a safe place. Fucking dramatic of her to leave me behind just to get captured.

The problem is, no matter how much I hate her, or tell myself that I do, I can’t abandon her. She wouldn’t survive what she just got herself into— no. The cartel aren’t going to play games with her, and she’s too stubborn to give in to what they want. If she doesn’t fold, they will break her, which is why I have to fucking find her and I really, really need to hurry.

***

My anxiety grows the more days that pass me by without being able to locate her. I’ve been in the hospital for a week, life flighted to Denver due to head trauma and my stab injury. I’ve been told I’m almost done here, that I need to take it easy for at least six weeks. Anything could pop my stitches, according to them. Sudden movements, exercise, killing people. The usual. It’s a good thing I know how to stitch myself up. Either way, the real hindrance is the broken ribs. At least they are healing.They’re not exactly where they need to be, so I do need to take it easy for a few more days until they feel back to normal.

I hate to think about what got me here, how I barely made it to the hospital before I became unconscious, and for a split second before I faded, I didn’t think I’d ever wake up again. The feeling of panic that gripped my chest was unlike any I’d ever felt before, but then I woke up. I woke up and she wasn’t there. It wasn’t a nightmare. I didn’t protect her.

That feeling still has me by the throat, the white walls of this hospital room choking me, closing in on me, driving me fucking insane. I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to find her and get her back. Just so I can kill her, then fuck her. She deserves that much for stabbing me.

There must be a reason why the cartel let me live, they’re not careless enough to leave me behind by accident. Why did they leave me in that house? Did they know she stabbed me? Or maybe they want me to live in fear, looking over my shoulder constantly until one of them decides to show up and make me pay for my transgressions. I want to say I have no regrets, that I wouldn’t change anything, but that’s simply not true. There’s so much I would do differently, starting with running away with Hallie instead of going back to Texas in the first place. But it’s too late now to think about what I should’ve done. Now I need to come up with a plan on how the fuck I’m getting her out of this. 

I ask myself every day why the hell I want to look for her in the first place, she stabbed me, almost killed me, in fact. It’s possible she may have felt it was the only way to save herself, and I can relate to that. Sometimes when you’re cornered, forced to do something you don’t want to, you do things you don’t mean to do. I’m choosing to believe she didn’t actually want to kill me, that she meant what she said, when she told me she loved me. I know her heart is split in half, but I know there’s also no fucking way I’m letting her choose anyone but me. 

I think I owe it to her to get her out of this mess, she wouldn’t be in it if I hadn’t brought her to Breck. Or maybe I just want her back. I want to get on my knees and beg her to take me back, plead with her to forgive me. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for what I’ve done to her, but she’s a better person than me. She’s always been.

Somehow, in a moment of weakness, I thought it would be a good idea to call my father and tell him what happened. He more than likely feels relieved that she’s finally been handed over, but what he doesn’t understand is that I will not be giving up. I will not rest until I’ve found her, and right now they’re hiding her under fucking rocks. There’s no trace of her at all, which is why I’m risking my life by having my father visit me at the hospital. I’m surprised he showed up at all, I frankly thought he didn’t give a shit whether I live or die, but I guess I can be wrong sometimes. Or he just wants to find me in a vulnerable state and finally turn me in, put us all out of our misery. 

If it wasn’t for Hallie and the fate that awaits her, the new life she’s living while my hands have been tied and I haven’t been able to look for her, I would’ve surrendered myself and let them kill me. This entire situation is just exhausting. Who the fuck wants to live on the run for the rest of their lives? Maybe the nurse’s hand will slip the next time she gives me morphine and I will overdose. I don’t think it would be so easy though, so I guess fuck me.

But maybe it’s a good thing death hasn’t opened its gates for me yet, because then I wouldn’t have gotten to experience my father in all of his glory, with a look of despair on his face. Even now, as he stands in front of me, it’s a bit jarring. I thought once upon a time that if something like this happened it would bring me happiness to know he gives a damn about me, but as it stands all I feel is confusion. Why has he treated me like shit for years on end if he cares about me? Why does he want to see me now? What are his real intentions? Can I trust him? You can’t trust anyone.

Victor stands at the foot of the hospital bed, holding on to my leg gently over the blankets. He doesn’t move, barely even breathes as he watches me. I may have been pretending to be asleep for the past twenty minutes, or so it feels like, but I can still feel his stare burning through me. 

“Are you going to stand there and stare all day?” I ask him, finally opening my eyes. He’s clad in a suit, which of course he is, he probably doesn’t own anything else, and he lets go of my leg to adjust his cufflinks. “Or are you going to turn me in so I can finally die?”

“Neither,” He replies gruffly, his blue eyes, just like my own, are cold and dead. There’s no kindness in them,maybe a tinge of sadness and regret if I look close enough. Who knows though, everything is an act when it comes to him. He only cares about what benefits him. “I wanted to make sure you’re in one piece, before I never see you again.” I don’t even know how to feel about that. There’s too many things going through my mind. Does he actually care enough about me to want to see me one last time, Or is this him trying to turn me into the cartel and save his own ass?

I chuckle as I look at his dark hair, hating him even more. I can’t be sure if I’m glad I look more like my mother than him. “How very fatherly of you. But of course, you wouldn’t know anything about parenting if it slapped you in the face. Where was this attitude when we were with mom? Where were you then? She could’ve died and instead—”

Victor sighs the way he always does when I’m in his presence, like he couldn’t be more annoyed with me. “Aren’t you tired of the bullshit, Damien?” Yes. No. I don’t know. I don’t actually care enough to think about it right now. Or maybe I do, but it doesn’t matter anymore. “Anyway, I’ve gone back to the safe house and collected your suitcase with money, weapons, and some belongings. I wouldn’t recommend going back there, they’ve probably sent more men to hunt you down at this point.”

My face must show my surprise, because my father chuckles and goes to sit in the chair near my bed, pulling it closer to talk to me. “You didn’t think I wasn’t keeping tabs on you, did you?”

I don’t know what to think. But my father keeping tabs on me, following me, tracking me in general, did not readily cross my mind. That was clearly a stupid mistake. Now I wonder how long he’s known about my safe house in Breckenridge. If he’s had people watching me, Hallie, or both of us. I’d rather not think about all the implications that accompany that reality, instead, I lean my head back on the pillow and look at the ceiling for a brief moment before letting my eyes flutter closed. 

“Do they have her?” I know there was no way for her to escape. So why am I hurting myself by asking the obvious? Why do I need to hear it? Will it make it more real if someone says it out loud?

“You can’t be serious,” My father replies, “You know she was taken by the cartel, and before you tell me not to assume, I know this for a fact.”

“What about Zayne?” I fist my hands on the bed, grabbing on to the rough waffle blanket they put over me. For some reason, something is fishy. I didn’t see him die, in fact, once the car flipped I didn’t see much of anything at all.

“What about him?” To someone else, my father may look serious, the picture of calm. To me, he looks like a goddamn fucking liar. He’s the kind of man who uses questions to answer questions with the purpose of distracting you from the answer, just so he can divulge all your secrets, your deepest darkest thoughts. “Oh, wait, don’t tell me you care about him too?”

I breathe in slowly, and he smiles at my annoyance. One of these days I’m going to make him pay for everything he’s done to me, with interest. “Is he dead like I wanted him to be?”

“You see, the problem with you is that you believe I care about what you want when it comes to this job.” I tense, and the veins in my neck feel like they’re bulging. I don’t want to show my true feelings about the matter, in fact I want to look outraged, absolutely pissed off that he didn’t go through with it. When in reality, all I feel is relief, because if Hallie ever found out I was responsible for his death, it wouldn’t matter how many times I rescue her, she’d fucking hate me forever. “But I’m the boss here, and you best remember that.”

My eyes almost roll in annoyance, but I force myself to remain calm and collected. “So what did you do then?”

His smile makes the hairs on my arms stand on end, a very disturbing feeling coursing through me. “What I do best,” The way his footsteps sound as they get closer to my side of the bed makes me want to throttle him. “I sold him.”

My stomach drops, and if I didn’t have an empty stomach I’d probably throw up. It might be easier to get my father to give me information about Zayne’s buyer than Hallie’s, but I’ll have to take what I get at this point.

I will say, however, of all the things I thought I’d be doing after Hallie stabbed me and left me to die— looking for Zayne wasn’t one of them. I have a theory though, and I think he will be close to wherever Hallie is. Maybe that’s a long shot, but I’m fucking desperate. I have to have faith that it’ll be easier to find her once I get to him.

I force myself to chuckle, even though deep down I’m scared for him. “About fucking time someone made him suffer.” The smirk on my face makes my father smile, and I know I’m snaring him in my trap, he just doesn’t know it. “You’re doing me a bigger favor than you think, dad. Prolonging his pain brings me more joy than a quick death.” 

Do I hate Zayne? Hell yes I fucking do. Did I want him dead? Also yes. But now that he might lead me to her, I don’t care about my feelings.

“You should’ve seen Carl’s face when I told him I had a male in his early twenties.” Victor adjusts his tie with a proud look on his face. God, my father is truly fucking sick. The things that disgust me make him happiest, and I’m not disgusted by much at this point. I know I’ve been involved in this for a decade, but it has never brought me an ounce of joy. Victor, on the other hand, he’d kill someone every day and bathe in their blood if he could. Instead he has to run the business. “That man does depraved things to his slaves.”

I want to snap at him not to call anyone that. It’s fucking degrading and disgusting. But I have to be quiet for once, hold my damn tongue so his can get looser. 

I have no fucking clue who that man is, but I sure plan to find out. “Good.” I nod, “I want him to be in pain.”

My father looks curious for a moment, “Why do you hate him, Damien?”

My eyes narrow of their own accord, and I force myself to relax. Why the fuck does he care now anyway? This conversation is getting tedious, and even though I could be discharged today, I still have had many surgeries to repair my insides from this stupid stab wound between my ribs. There’s an incessant throbbing at my side, much like my incessant father who won’t shut the fuck up. 

“He was getting in my way, and you know how I usually take care of that.” The hospital room makes me shiver, and now that I’m in a lower level of care, it’s a smaller space so it feels even colder here than in the ICU. “I hope they hang him for everyone to see when they’re done with him.” 

Even if I don’t mean that, my father hears the hatred in my voice. The feelings are not forced, in fact, they come naturally. I do hate him. I just also need him. 

“Juarez is the perfect place for that to happen,” Victor shrugs, then smooths down the front of his suit like it got a crease from the small movement. “So nothing to worry about on that front.”

Bingo motherfucker.

Victor’s eyes widen and his mouth sets in a thin line at his own revelation. It was too easy to get him to run his mouth, maybe I should pretend to like him more often. It’s like one full conversation made him soft. I’d hate to see what he’d divulge over some pussy, and yet he was the one giving me shit about that same damn thing.

“Indeed it is.” The smile on my face is of pure happiness now, and I hope he believes it’s over Zayne’s suffering and doesn’t see right through me. He must know I’m not giving up on her. “Thank you for dropping my belongings off. I really appreciate it.” Saves me a trip and probably a beating at the very least. He’s doing me a solid before I disappear for good. In fact, he’s doing me more of a favor than he knows by giving me my fake identities and passports.

Victor’s face falls, and I can’t tell if it’s from the realization of what he just divulged or if he’s sad I just hinted at him to get out of here. That’s what people do to politely kick someone out right? Tell them thanks for whatever it may be? This might be the last time I ever see my father, but it’s not hitting me as hard as I expected it to. 

“Son.” He fidgets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. There’s no way in hell I’m seeing correctly, because there’s tears in Victor Carlisle’s eyes. He reaches for my leg again and squeezes it softly. “I’m sorry.” A knot gets lodged in my throat, and it becomes difficult to breathe. One lone tear trails down my right cheek, and I look away from him. “I should’ve done more, been better… I’m sorry I took you away from your brothers.”

I don’t reply.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better father, Damien.” At my name, I do look at him. My blue eyes clash with his own, and he grabs my hands. “I know there’s nothing I can do to make it better, and that’s why I’m here. There’s double the money in your suitcase, and a burner phone. Anything you need you call me from that, and I will help you. It doesn’t matter what it is.”

“You’d risk your life to help me?” My hoarse voice breaks, and tears fall down Victor’s cheeks now too. 

“I’ve always loved you, son.” A slow squeeze to my hand, “I’m just terrible at showing it.”

With that, he lets go, turns around, and walks toward the door. My chest squeezes as he reaches for the doorknob, “I love you too, dad.” I sniffle, “Thank you.”

Victor walks back swiftly toward the bed and embraces me, and I can tell he’s holding back in order to spare my injuries. My ribs scream in pain at the sudden movement, but my inner child feels strangely… at peace. 

As I watch him walk down the hallway I feel a new book beginning. Twenty years of trauma haven’t been erased, but it’s a step in the right direction. The lost little boy in me has finally found a map and a compass, and I’m ready to embark on a new journey. One where my past doesn’t haunt me. But for that, I need to set my future up for success, and I can’t do that until all my business is resolved.

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