MINDER

OLALLIE’S OFFERING

 

LAIKYN MENG

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product(s) of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or meant to lend credibility and authenticity to the story. The use of brand names and locations should not be read as an endorsement of this author’s work. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

 

18+ Mature content explicit language and sexual content. Sensitivity warnings. Abuse and violence, alcohol and drug use.

 

COPYRIGHT © 2020 LAIKYN MENG

THE ORANGE 9 PUBLISHING COMPANY LLC

 

COVER PHOTO

Photographer: Tanja Heffner

Model: Antonella Kinder

 

ISBN: 9798669139384

MINDER: noun. a person whose job it is to look after someone or something.

 

 

 

 

 

PROLOGUE

 

Who's there? I opened the door and found myself staring at Lawson.

I see him first, but like good things in life, I feel him early also. He is in mid-conversation and stops. Knowing something unique is happening.

He looks up and around, passing over me once twice, and then he locks eyes with my aqua jewels, and there you have it. He starts feeling it too.

We are in a zone alone from different atmospheres for 30 seconds, and that's all it takes to take our breaths away.

Today I woke up and thought I'd fall in love with the day. Maybe with artwork or a good book but not with an actual person. See people don't notice me like you would assume they would. I was the odd one out in my family. Yet the occurrence was primarily based on avoiding differences.

Lawson is here, though. 

We don't necessarily smile at each other. Because here on out we know we'll be in each other's life. Committed to one another.

He strides up to me, never breaking eye contact. If I were a nervous person, this would be the point where I would blush and turn away. But I do the opposite and stand my ground.

The teenage boy stands in front of me. No gulp down his throat making his Adam apple signal for help.

He cups my face in one hand and kisses me with the electric pull. Intuitive, that's what they tell me I am. If it is correct then I am in the right place.

"Lawson." I know.

"Olallie." He knows.

"I'll see you later."

"You will." Thus begins our journey into a land of broken promises, all based on wishful thinking and unchanged behaviors.

My mother once signed me a series of complicated phrases. As if I was rehearsing a speech, and she was the voice in my head to speak freely.

She would practice every day in a subtle way that showed me her expression. Sometimes I caught her fingers spelling out words and gesturing to terms I wasn’t allowed to say or repeat.

Luna Lovett had one love, and it wasn’t herself. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t my real father, Lennox. It was him; Asher Rainer.

Have you ever met someone so out of place in the world that you can tell by looking at them they were born in the wrong universe?

Asher was like that. Luna alongside him, they were precisely that description.

He went against rules of regulations. Disobeyed the land of the law. While flat out ignoring the hints of social interaction.

And he was partially deaf, a common bond between yours truly.

My mother and father were of the hearing specimens. Her parents, however, passed their genetics down to me. There was a struggle in my mother, Luna’s life. She was uncomfortably sane. Easygoing with a spark for spontaneity, bold with bluntness in every verb.

It was times like this when I stared down at her faded headstone that I wondered what her purpose in life really was. What any of our true potentials are?

It is a sweet irony that she fell in love with a man who could not fully hear her. Seemingly because of her whole life, she tried to avoid those individuals. Her parents, her daughter. Yet, she was an interpreter for the hearing impaired.

The first memory I have of my mother is one I cherish always. I was a waddling toddler, and she hadn’t yet seen me walk again. She burst through the door, and at first, I was frightened. But then I stared at her and something in me connected with the glow around her.

Luna fell to her knees and held her arms open. Smiling while tears blessed and cleansed her cheeks. I swayed my arms back and forth, making my steps count as I walked to her. And she held so firm on to me, I thought she would never have the ability to let go.

Time with my mother was a short glimpse in the span of my memory. I only had her for 2 ½ years. That was all we were allocated to belong as mother and daughter. Before her, the sheer purpose was resolved, and I became another child passed to another family.

An orphan left to wander.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

OLALLIE

 

I try to numb my skin to the screams echoing through my tamed skull. I tell myself it isn’t me. I would never give myself the privilege of acting out in such conditions.

To be so exposed, with no refrain. Shaking, startled with no door to hide behind. It’s a stream of witnesses that rush in; nurses, doctors, other patients come to see the deaf girl make noise for the first time. They hear a catatonic holler, not the sweet southern belle I was trained to be.

Flashbacks to my young mother, and I shudder against the panda promises she condemned me not to break. Be kind, she would whisper with her fingers. But in those 3 minutes and 15 seconds, I couldn’t find solitude, I couldn’t find a good bone in my body.

Failing her came at a price. Inhale a long breath, blink Lord Jesus, help me blink through this awful pain. I exhale out to the sound of her voice calling my watery name.

Always has the rush of waves in the distance as it mumbled. It’s almost close, and I could practically feel it. Almost alive if I believed enough, the more I edged closer to the imaginary sound. I realized what an awful trick my mind made me a victim. She never spoke to ears that could hear her. No, Luna Lovett only translated through signed gestures and long hugs.

Blink once, leaving them closed. I stop the shouting, which halts the pain traveling up my spine. I don’t feel the needle they jab in my thigh, but I sense I’ve gone too far to be seen again.

When I wake, there are some nightmares worth living through. Mine was an extraordinary kiss with time.

“Where did you go, pretty angel?” My cellmate lingers near, but not too close. Probably heard the rage that broke last night and knows I am a lunatic.

There’s pressure behind my ears, where Knox politely improved my odds of hearing. It itches from the stitches, since I ripped out the cochlear implant, again.

Something he wanted, something he needed. Not understanding me, was going to be a struggle for him. But Knox Krause eliminated roadblocks, no matter how many casualties.

I didn’t want to hear a world in which he demanded simple behavior. I tried to remain muted from the outside. Because if I couldn’t listen, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as bad.

“I’m here.” Zailey, I think her name is, sits with me for hours. Not making a noise, just focusing out the same window. Blurred with our privacy.

Maybe she says it for comfort, or to get good points with the staff. Who knows, but she remains next to me. Not making me believe in compromise or insanity, just regular breath.

I’m here. I point to myself, my hands go to my sides round in circles. I’m here. Repeating the signs over and over again, wondering what the hell that even means anymore.

Nothing but shame filters through their compliments. They can keep them, I have enough guilt.

~

Two days later, I am allowed to leave my room, and if my skin shade had a name, it would be a pale promise. After breakfast, I spent two hours passing back and forth on the 8 feet of the fenced-in lawn we shared with the children patients.

I had made one friend since I was here, she was the epitome of a rebel if I ever did see one. Zailey Jensen, did things her way, until the ways she did things turned against her. She had lightning striking hair, tattoos, and pierced dimples. I hope your mind didn’t go to the gutter and thought I said nipples instead of dimples, she is a lady after all.

In the few short weeks after I came here, she came up to me and never left my side. We didn’t talk, and she didn’t try to communicate with me like a daft idiot with a speech impediment.

No, sir, Zailey sat there like we were both sharing a similar hurt and didn’t know how to express it other than a gentle nod in either’s direction.

To tell you the truth, ain’t nobody really knows my facts, I hardly do myself. Or at least I try to avoid them. Which is why my biological father thought it might be a good idea, if I stay here for a while. He didn’t give much choice, when I thought I was coming home for break, he held out a duffel bag and told me not to die.

Lennox (Knox) Krause was like that, and I assure you nobody expected him to be tender toward any one of his four kids; except Leonie. I may have been the only one without matching last names to theirs—all different sharing mothers except the twins who, of course, were cohabiters of the same uterus.

First, there was Rebecca, his high school sweetheart, 15 and dreaming of forever. After she had Leonie, something changed in her, a dark substance came to surface and took her life before I was in the presence of the Krause’s. Luna always talked soft words about her, I remembered she often cried when she went to visit her deceased friend. I think Rebecca was the role model you could never cast any shame on. They are infinite and indestructible in your mind.

How would you recover from a loss that monumental? Is there an instruction manual I could pick up at the local bookstore? Something that describes the process of healing from such heavy grief, you wouldn’t think to fail?

I didn’t know those answers, I couldn’t pretend all the time that I did. I only absorbed so much silence, before one noise set it exploding and I would combust.

Seeing Luna’s face flat against the pavement. Pools of blood coughing out of her mouth as she wheezed, trying to stay calm for me. While Asher screamed at the top of his lungs, I felt it in the tips of my sandals. He shook the earth with his terror, the phone not even by his ear, calling out commands to emergency response. His lips running faster than my 9-year-old eyes could keep up.

So I didn’t try harder, I shifted my gaze back down to her, when I went to stand up and go to her, he shoved out a hand telling me to sit on the curb. I sat back down, reaching out my hand. I put one toe on the sidewalk while I laid on my stomach to touch her outstretched hand.

Her blinks were coming slower, and I hesitated to count them. But when the last one continued more than a minute, her grip limp. I crawled closer to her and curled myself underneath the only mother I ever wanted. The only one that mattered to me. Everyone that dies young or old is always gone too soon.

But my mother and I, our relationship was over too soon. A lot happened in those two years we were together. Luna took over custody of me after my grandparents passed away. She was always there in the backgrounds of dance recitals, piano concerts. My mother was still my hero, my spectrum of intense was based on the levels of Luna’s heart and spirit.

Now at 16, I can’t say I’m anything like her. Because weaknesses weren’t in her description. And there is so much suffering I could never understand by the way she held her head high through all of it. It wasn’t until the police arrived, the flashing lights of the ambulance that Asher took me from her warm arms.

He tried sitting me down beside him while he talked to the officers, but I wouldn’t have it. Must have been the Krause in me, but it was the first time Asher was compassionate and held me tighter. Maybe he realized that we both lost our other half. Or perhaps he realized her broken arm with the word metanoia tattooed was still outreached toward me.

Tears didn’t wash down my face. I wish someone would have been there to slap my virgin cheeks and tell me to shed some pity to respect thy mother. Yet, it didn’t occur to me what was happening, why my mother was frozen in time, and the crimson red turned a dried maroon around her lips. The way they tucked her in so she wouldn’t be cold, she was just taking a nap with shining eyes still glistening in our direction.

At 9 years old, I couldn’t hold back my first word, and though she was couldn’t hear my voice anymore, I looked down at the woman who gave up worlds for me, and I said, “bye, momma.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter  2

LAWSON

 

My first memory is sound.

An echo probably is more appropriate.

I’m 3, maybe 4 years old. The noise comes from behind me. After hearing the boom, I looked down at my toy in my chubby toddler hands. Then another sound came; her scream.

I wasn’t supposed to turn around, but momma Angel’s cry made my bellyache. His mouth was moving, later I learned it was words you weren’t supposed to say to someone you claimed to love.

My papa loved her, he told her all the time. He would shout it in her face, yell it to the back of her head. So much that I believed it to be true.

I didn’t ever want to be loved like daddy loved my mother. The love made her weak, it crippled her protection. Each time he said those words, she would back herself in a corner, defenseless. Waiting for the proclamation to be over.

Announcements and grand gestures were warning signs that chaos was about to run hasty in our house. It was small, and my little sister Crimsyn and I shared a bed in one of the rooms.

Daddy always said mommy thought she was better than us. Angel’s skin was the color of fuzzy peach. It was just as soft when she held us close. Clutching us away from the danger and we would fall asleep in her arms.

Listening to an unsettled pulse, worried about the strength on the lock of the bathroom door.

“Why is daddy, upset, mommy?” Crimsyn tucked to the side with her brown-skinned dolly. Her tiny fingers, braiding the long mane.

“He can’t find what he wants.” Angel doesn’t turn to look at the fear in our hearts. Her own terror conquering any courage we might have been lucky to discover. She isolates her focus at the scratched door.

All I can do is stare at her, waiting for a reaction other than this.

“Should we go help him find it?” Crimsyn has cooled her tears and has gone back to find a solution to our problem.

“No, sweetie. It’s gone, what he wants is gone. There isn’t anymore, and we don’t have the money to buy more.” She whispers the last part, eyeing me carefully. But rests her sight back on the door, making sure the pounding on the other side hasn’t broken through.

I’m 6 years old and wonder if we’ll be hiding in here for my birthday that is next month. I’m in first grade, and I start counting the seconds until we can breathe out loud.

I’m the older brother, trying to protect a wounded mother and sister blinded by the experience.

My 24-year-old mother is memorizing the pattern in which her lover beats the hollow wood door. She begins tapping the tops of her knees. Trying to sing away the scares that are too familiar to ignore.

“What song are you singing, momma?” Crimsyn breaks a smile, for the first time since being sealed near the bathtub. “I want to sing too!”

She starts clapping, ignoring the fists that keep flying against the drywall outside. A piece of furniture is thrown, and we all stop and inhale, hoping it wasn’t something that creates sharp points.

“It—um, it goes. Don’t worry about the thunder that crackles from the skies…” Angel’s voice starts to move in a rhythm that creates a safe haven for her daughter.

I stare at them, confused how a song or words are going to save us this time from the mad man.

He shouts some dirty slur about my mother being white trash. My eyes move to her, curious if the accusations are true and I’ve never known before.

Angel still doesn’t cry, she keeps singing make-believe to Crimsyn.

“The storm outside will grow quiet into the night. Empty sky, can you close your eyes. Leave me alone until the morning light.” Her arms squeeze us tighter and notice the jiggle of the doorknob getting loose.

“Move away from the clouds and dry up all your tears. It’s okay, we’ll get through this timeline.” Crimsyn latches onto the words, mouthing along to a pretend song.

All at once, the banging stops, and we are all shocked that the song worked. Magic has happened, Verse’s dad does small card tricks, but I knew there was something good in the world. Everything can’t all be bad.

Minutes go by, and we all look relieved, there isn’t a crazed father waiting hungrily to abuse his family.

“Keep singing, Angel. I love your voice. It always soothes me when I’m coming down.” The doorframe creaks, as Issy leans against it.

Angel listens to this order like she does the rest, without hesitation. She points to the window and opens it wide enough. Both my sister and I have the opportunity to escape.

“Go to Villatoro’s house, I’ll come to get you when it’s safe to come home again.” She waves us on, her light brown hair shoved back out of her sight. Not wanting to miss us fleeing for our lives.

Safe to come home again. Maybe next time it will be.

“Angel? ANGEL! WHY THE FUCK DID YOU STOP SINGING YOU STUPID BITCH!” I’m sure the neighbors a few miles down heard his holler.

Crimsyn has her hand in mine, and I don’t let go because if I do, I get into trouble. Tears begin to force themselves out of our mother’s eyes.

It hits me that it might be the last time we see our mother alive. Her mouth opens to sing again, and she closes the window, her figure slipping back to the ground.

Angel does survive that night, but we don’t know it until two days later. Crimsyn runs to her open arms, and I stay back a bit. Watching any signs of where she flinches with contact.

She doesn’t grimace, and I feel a sensation of hope.

His love outbursts don’t end until I turn 8.

Full school days, I guess the teachers started to catch on when the bruises weren’t fading. They hauled my father away as he spits in the faces of uniformed officers.

Patch came into our lives, he held my hand and let me sit in the front of the cop car. My mother’s tears wet my hair, but I didn’t need her comfort. We were finally safe. Protecting my mother and little sister paid off, I wasn’t constricted on the breath.

I decided then that I didn’t want to love anyone; it looked like it hurt too much. Even if I wasn’t receiving the love, I wouldn’t want to hurt another person with that type of emotion.

 We grew up better, we moved into a bigger house. A house my English grandparents approved was suitable to come and visit. Crimsyn cried for daddy, who’d been sent to serve his sentence up the hill behind the Krause mansion.

I told Crimsyn, he couldn’t hurt us anymore. But she only cried harder, she missed the bastard.

Soon, after Patch came into our lives and he never left, I took a particular interest in him becoming my true father.

When Angel got pregnant with my brothers, I knew it was fate. We were all meant to be a happy family finally.

Understanding that going through a hard life earned us this simple one. It was hard not to look over my shoulder and see if someone was out there keeping score.

Isidro or Issy, as all his friends called him. My dad was behind bars for the next several years. It was the first time I prayed his temper would work in my favor. I hoped he would stay there until the day he died.

Then we would be free from the reign of his fury. And maybe Angel would stop looking at me like I would one day grow into the monster.

That’s the thing about fathers and sons. Bred to be best friends, have a bond more influential than any other. But I hope, in our case, the assumption was false. Still, her eyes lingered on me a few seconds too long, waiting to see what I learned from the man who day after day broke her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3

OLALLIE

 

My mother’s funeral reminded me of a fading rainbow. Her older sisters painted on streaks of tears, as they acted like doting aunts. Some cry hysterical, the chair next to me creaks under the weight of her despair.

I let out a giggle at their dramatics. Silently wondered if the sisters were mourning Luna’s demise or the remainder of their parents who had fallen.

They seemed strange, unfamiliar hugging close to one another. Clung to a sadness where I felt the only thing Luna’s siblings missed out on was a few hours of their time. Maybe they were trying to make up for the shunning they gave, especially after I was born.

This is where the darkness becomes a part of me. It must be that way when tragedy hits to close to the spectator. I wanted to climb into her soft velvet-lined coffin. Cuddle next to her, hoping the box would keep us both warm forever.

There wasn’t comfort out here. Looking around, trying to see the one person I could find comfort with easing my pain.

He would know what to do.

But, Asher wasn’t anywhere. Not in the waves of people who made noise, I was grateful not to acknowledge. Covering my ears, hoping the visions of strangers would be erased. One aunt pulled my hand away, and I shoved her away, lost in the background.

No way of knowing how I got there, panic starts to spark. Who do I belong to now? Was it the hypocrites of relatives or a father who shoved me in the back seat, welcoming me home?

"I thought you got rid of her." Those are the first words Lennox Krause; my father says to me at age 7. Of course, my ears don’t hear it, but he pronounces the words like he is surprised about my soul being in my body.

2 ½ years after our encounter, my mother dies. All relatives that were associated with her were drowned out by wasted patience.

Lennox has been gifted the child he didn’t want. A golden token of a child he took advantage of, while she opened him up to heal. Held me at arm’s length, pushed me to undergo scans, tests, to see if I could be a candidate for the cochlear implant. He said it would help him. But what he didn’t say is how it would enable me. Put my mind through a further flex of someone else’s control and power. I agreed. At 10, I laid flat as I counted back from 100 on my fingertips.

The surgery took roughly four hours. When I awoke, my skull ached. I put my hand to the side of my head. A bandage covers behind my ears. I focus my eyes and see it’s him. The first real noise I can associate with a body is his, and not my mother’s, not even the avenging angel Asher’s.

He comes forward, asking me how I feel. I look down at the side of my bed and hate myself for doing it, but I attempt to nod. I didn’t know if I expected to hear miracles when I awoke, but the silence still surrounds me, and they remind me it’ll be a couple weeks before the sounds start to intensify.

I tap a W to my chin, and my Lennox nearly trips, getting to the side table to pour me some water. I see his excitement as the doctor says everything went as planned, and we will be back in a couple days to put on the outer layer of the device.

He doesn’t notice there is a vacant place where a smile should be on my face. The doctor continues to talk to me, and I stare out the window, trying to find the colored sunset. Two taps on my leg, the middle-aged man, signs to me what a great gift I have received.

I didn’t want it, I try to flick my hands, but I stop. Because the only one that had my best interest died for their loyalty. My fingers touch my chin, and I open my palm toward him, thanking him.

Two months later, I was greeted with initial crested suitcases with a map printed off in faded printer ink. Lennox appeared with sunglasses and a tan. His blonde hair almost white to the unholiness he was providing.

It’s the first time I see him smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4

LAWSON

 

“Angel, could you change the detergent you use to wash our clothes?” We are walking through the grocery store—my two toddler brothers fighting over a toy in th shopping cart.

“What smell would you prefer, Lawson?” Angel hums a response, a smile that has been plastered there for years now, never wavering.

She feels every ounce of gratitude for being saved.

“He likes a girl at school and doesn't want to smell like a cholo.” Crimsyn looks up from the magazine she’s been reading.

“Shut up, Crimsyn!” My little sister is a stuck-up brat!

I’m about to start 8th grade and want a new reputation, other than the kid whose dad is in prison.

“Smell like a cholo? You don't smell like a homeboy. What does that smell like, drugs and desperation?” Our mother laughs to herself, an inside joke that we try not to discover the hidden meaning. Probably has something to do with Issy. But we don’t bring up his name, at least I don’t.

“Mom, this girl, her friends said he smelt like a dirty Mexican.” Crimsyn, who has equal depth to her darkness of skin. Her brown eyes much more angled. But she rolls her eyes at the comment.

“You do realize if I’m a dirty Mexican, then so are you! You are such an idiot sometimes!” I shove my hands in my pockets, waiting for the ass-chewing I’m going to get for calling my sister names.

“I AM NOT A DIRTY MEXICAN!” Crimsyn practically screams it at the top of her lungs. Dropping the magazine and turns her back to me.

Angel looks at me, with some anger trying to cover her pity. Her choices resulting in our misfortune. I bet she remembers the first time she went to my father’s house.

It smells like fried bread and sweat.

Angel couldn’t understand the punishment we were living for the fantasy she picked. Issy back then must have been tempting, and maybe she wanted a ride on the wild side.

Ended up with more than she bargained for when she got pregnant twice by a man who only found himself essential.

Our skin was caramelized, and hers has powered porcelain. Sometimes when I was little, I kept imagining what it might be like to have a Spanish mother. If she would be as weak to fall for a guy who corrupted her spirits with his own.

If we were all the same tone, would I actually have the courage to call her mother, instead of Angel? Knowing it meant I trusted her, that she would, in fact, protect me. I wouldn’t be searching on school mornings for the hammer to pull nails out of the door, so we could leave the house.

After the trip to the grocery store that day, Angel doesn’t tattle to Patch about the issue. Instead, she does something beneficial for me.

“Here.” She hands me a box of cologne. The box was a smooth navy blue, a gold and silver twisted crest bumps my thumb as I scan the label.

“What is this for, Angel?”

“Lawson, are you ever going to call me mom. I am your mother.”

“No, probably not.” I throw the box onto my desk and go back to my video games.

“Lawson, are you even going to open it up?” She waits, like a good southern woman waiting to be thanked.

“Sure, Angel.” I tear open the top, and the scent that hits me makes my senses slow. It’s a mixture of musk and manhood.

The transformation from boy to gentleman. The immediate excitement I feel rushes through my body, but I know too well, we can’t afford beautiful things.

Or we couldn’t before.

“Mom, thanks for this. But you should probably take it back.” Careful not to get any smudges on the container.

“You don’t like it?” Worry filters through her face.

“No, it’s amazing. I feel honored, but I know it must have cost something, and we can’t use the money on things like this. It’s too much.” Folding the box back together and getting the tape to fix the torn edges.

“Lawson.” Her voice so tender, I pinch my eyes, trying to figure out what happened.

“What?”

“I’m sorry that you are still recovering from what happened with your father. I know we never had much. Those were very dark times in both our lives. But things are so much better, this is something we can do, and you deserve. Keep it. By the way, we changed the detergent, no need to join a gang, homeboy!” Those light green eyes wink at me as she bustles out the door.

“Angel…” I shake my head at her reference. Relief comes quick, and I can’t wait to try it out. I open the bottle and splash some here and there. Not wanting to waste a single drop.

“Thank you!” Yelling out my bedroom door.

“No problem, hombre! We love you!” Angel screeches back, and I cringe, hoping she won’t be shouting that when she picks us up from school tomorrow.

In the next few weeks, I wear it, and I start getting double takes in my direction. Not ugly glares or turned up noses. No girls were actually watching me with wide eyes.

“Whoa, there baby cousin, did someone grow some balls over summer? Momma Angel got you looking fly.” Dawson, whose nickname has been Maroon since before I could speak, sits next to the bike rack as the other students file out of the schoolyard.

“Dawson? What are you doing here?” He grips my bike and starts pedaling, so I jogged up beside him.

“Abuela wants to see her precious Lawson.” He pinches my cheek and then gives it a slight slap. “Where’s Syn?” He looks around, trying to pick a familiar face.

“Angel took her to a singing competition in Texas.” I sling both straps over my shoulders as we exit the gate.

“Oh, well then, if that’s the case, shall we go and find some trouble before grandma Zola takes you over?” His eyes are shiny, and I wonder what fresh trouble my older cousin will show me.

So, of course, I agree.

We are in an abandoned garage on the edge of town. Dawson’s friends and a few of my other cousins are hanging around.

“Where are you going? You just got here Alien, stay and hang out with my baby cousin Lawson and me. Before we have to go meet our executioner.” Dawson pouts out his lips at Leonie, the Krause twin's older sister.

“I’ve got to go home and study.” Her eyes stay on me, the weight of her gaze is iconic. She remains a curious creature, always investigating new knowledge.

“Baby, I promise a minute more? Please.” Dawson rarely begs, but even this is a cry for help.

“No, Maroon.” Leonie doesn’t even look back as she starts to walk away.

“I’ve decided to go see him.” He is talking to the footprints she leaves.

“You swore you wouldn’t, logically this is a bad idea. Is that why you brought your uncle’s son here to make you feel better?”

“It’s family business, you wouldn’t understand.” Dawson shrugs only one shoulder.

Leonie stiffens, glaring at the opposite shoulder that didn’t rise in unison. “I don’t have to understand your motives. Because we both know they will take you away from here. Maybe that is all you wanted from the beginning to live next to your uncle in prison.”

“Like I said, Leonie. Family business, I will handle it. No concern to you or anybody else without the last name Arzola. Got that sweet cheeks, why don’t you skedaddle?”

I can see she isn’t used to being dismissed. And in her defiance, she loses her anger and waits for Dawson to cower.

Hearing stories about Leonie Krause has made me physically nervous that she has telepathy or move things with her mind. The girl is way too smart for our side of the state.

“Refrain from continuing backward on your path, Maroon. Have a good night, boys.” She’s gone, and I wonder if the nickname earlier is accurate. Maybe she is an alien.

“Why do they call you Maroon?” We sit back in beanbag chairs, as Dawson rolls a blunt in front of me.

Oh my goodness, my twelve-year-old brain is about to get drugged for the first time. I can’t wait to tell Verse! Also, my mother is going to kill Dawson when she finds out!

Dawson seems agitated with the question, it either is too personal, or he doesn’t want to reveal the source.

“Light up, pendejo!” He holds the lighter to the paper. Ignoring the question entirely, as I inhale and my lungs catch fire, while cayenne pepper is sprayed down my throat.

“Good, you’ll survive,” Dawson says like a proud father.

It isn’t until we are at my grandma’s house, do I eat everything she puts on my plate. Then I start to feel like getting high was a bad idea?

I run into her rose bushes and paint the prized possession with puke.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 5

OLALLIE

 

They do not tell you when you enter a psych ward that you will be cured or that you have rights. For the safety of other patients and yourself, you are under their rule.

Technically we were adults, most of us emancipated, while others allowed to be here even though they were 19, Zailey, for instance, wouldn’t mix well with the actual over 18 on suicidal watch down the hall. She got special permission. She was headed into college in September, and I was led into the sophomore year of high school.

It might have been an excuse as some sort of summer vacation before I entered my father’s reality. If I were going back to the girl’s academy in Texas, well, I might have enjoyed my time here.

But Knox decided he wanted all his children under one roof.

The thought of going to high school that was coed made my skin grow goosebumps like frying eggs on asphalt. Not that I haven’t had interactions with men, but these boys grew up with Calhoun and Kalonie. They’ve known them for years.

Broken Arrow, Arkansas, the small community worshipped my father’s last name, every able body fondled at the thought of him.

Not because he owned and made a profit from a private prison or that he purchased any free lot on this side of the county line.

Nope, sugar, they respected him on the same principle hierarchy expects loyalty. Because beneath the bravado, he was a genuine man. Gave 60 percent of his earnings back into the community. Knox gave them back sons and daughters whose wrong decisions came out looking like innocent opportunity.

I wasn’t born to be a martyr. My mother was offered that role. Her only duty in life was to deliver me and soften the loveless man. There was a reputation of boldness that made me shrink away. One I would never live up to, neither my mother’s nor my father’s definition would claim me.

Goodness was inside me, but it was for me, and I didn’t want to gift it to others to prove I was a part of the Krause bloodline. Wouldn’t be asked of me, not if I could help it.

Harper Calico came in a few weeks after Zailey at the center, and I smiled at her. Her pain was a beautiful thing to witness, I admired the way she let it shine on. Not hiding in the darkness like the rest of us; instead, she caressed the nose of it and patted her leg to have it follow her.

She walked lopsided from an accident. Either way, she didn’t stare down at the floor as others gawked at her limp. Her cane was blemished with gothic skulls and emo lyrics. I never felt so welcome standing next to her.

“Stop blessing people, Olallie, nobody needs that kind of pressure.” Zailey practically yelled from across the rec room as I stared at the poor girl limps closer. Then I turned back to Z and flipped her off the bird for being a muscular twitch.

“The way you talk—" Harper starts off the conversation, and I know how degrading this can get.

“Is embarrassing, isn't it.” Agreeing with the demeaning comments before she can counter an attack.

Harper doesn’t look like she is trying to be rude. “No. I mean, the way you talk, it’s like you mean every word you say.”

I learned that it was a simple statement, meant to release my opinions about myself, not alienate. But overpower the negative comments of the prejudice.

 “He couldn't have a weak offspring.” That is the answer I go with, why I can hear now, and my tongue is tortured with speech. Vowels, I was only able to communicate through my hands but now are vocalized out my throat.

“Your father?”

“Yeah.”

“He doesn't think your weak.” Something Dr. Candy our therapist, would say.

“No, not now, but before.” Before, I was altered to be the same as everyone else.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 6

OLALLIE

 

I spent 7 years in a boarding school in the heart of Texas, last few months I spent time at a therapy center in Colorado. Lennox thought it would be an excellent way to adjust coming back home.

Home, he mentioned it in a message that I didn’t have intentions of replying too. He knew too little to expect me to care about his reputation. A part of me knew like it always had before. The king of the county, Knox Krause, was going to welcome a deaf daughter into his hearing home.

At least Leonie wasn’t terrible, she was quiet and observed. She didn’t glare down at the being I grew to be. She nodded and understood. Both being motherless daughters held a unique connection.

“Anika? Anika, it’s your turn to lead.” I closed my eyes as Doctor Candy tried to get her attention. There I was 2nd replaced cochlear implant, hearing the words I could only read on lips just years ago.

Thanks, daddy.

The doctor who did the surgery stared at me confused, he blessed me with hearing, and all I wanted was to drown back in the solitude of mute meanings. He pointed his finger in my face, commanded that if I were to pull out the implant again, it could cause damage.

Too bad, the damage was already done.

“Anika? Are you listening?”

I open my eyes and meet Harper’s roommate, who looks directly at Dr. Candy and points to her ears and shakes her head like she can’t hear.

Then she does something that makes the energy shift. Anika’s fake eyelashes flutter as they meet me with pleading empathy.

“Olallie…” Zailey doesn’t physically try to hold me back. But the aggression in my shoulders builds, and I remove her syllables in the caution of my own name.

My legs stand before the girl who claims every sickness under the sun as her own torment.

But this one is mine.

She stands, and the strands of her light brown typical hair make me feel better that she is so insignificant. Anika Talisman doesn’t matter to me, exhale leaves my lungs freeing me of responsibility.

Her arms go up to hug me, but the embrace I give her is one she doesn’t see coming, so blinded by her own need.

At first, my fists clench around her hair, and I focus on the intent that I bring the waves of noise to a stop. Breath by breath, I move closer, and there the fear begins to grow in her innocent eyes.

I whisper so carefully that only she hears the curse I utter. The male nurse behind me booms a command, and I can feel the vibrations in the seam of my shirt. Releasing one hand to wrap my pedicure nails around her petite throat, I squeeze.

So calm as I instructed myself not to strangle the poor girl. My clarity projects the opposite of how fearful she becomes. The terror starts dripping from her forehead.

It’s only seconds, and the world comes crashing down. Sound roars so loudly that I have to drop my hold on Anika altogether.

“OLALLIE!” They yell.

I ignore them, holding guardianship on the girl full of sobs in front of me, clenching her throat gasping for justice.

My head tips to the side, as they try to restrain me. Other personnel fawn over her, not another patient raises concern to her aid. We all know her weakness is selfish attention, and the mental breakdown she orchestrated was for the benefit of a wealthy of family.

Here in the walls of insanity, we are all animals that try to devour ourselves. Yet, the teenage girl trying to escape from her own safety net has chosen a war she can’t win.

“Olallie…” It’s Z and Harper coming through my right ear, the good one, loud and clear. My right ear brings in all the pronunciations that have me breaking open extensively.

Their concern makes me want to crumble underneath the attention. Back in Texas, I would have been slapped for the outburst.

Don’t think about them, don’t go back to that time. Because if I look back to Texas, I have to look back to my mother, whose sacrifice gave me this life.

“She attacked me unprovoked. I tried welcoming her Candy, helping her in our group meetings—”

“Jesus, girl, do you know when to quit?” The large woman in charge of us practically spits out.

Anika’s face grows grim with shock, not getting her way, it turns sinister.

“It’s not my fault her mother decided to get steamrolled by a car, guess she didn’t know you weren’t worth saving.” Anika, Anika, you naïve a simple-minded girl.

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself back to Connecticut, Anika? Seems like there isn’t a staff member you haven’t blown. Best to relocate for a better variety, babe.” Zailey shouts and gets points taken off her excellent behavior. She shrugs as they send her back to her room.

Everybody’s opinions start spitting out of their mouths, and I realize I have been trained to utilize mine, just with some southern class.

Bringing a smile to my face, my mouth opens for the first time for the audience around us. Not once have I communicated with Zailey at night. Not once have I answered questions other than shaping my words with my fingers.

“Anika, my sorrow for your suffering runs deep. It is hard to see past our difficulties when we continue to create new ones. There is a difference between you and the rest of us. Most of them, even the ones who don’t survive the pain, will all come to the awareness that our lives are not meant for selfish purposes. You, darlin’, will never be able to outgrow the petty resentment. Because that plastic nose you got for your 14th birthday is crooked and will always be in the way.”

A week later, I am released, guess Knox heard about the quarrel decided that I could handle myself. He must have known the evil that resided in Kalonie.

~

The car door opens, it moves for a while on its own; swinging back forth. This morning is too early, yet I look over the stone wall—a field bending in the breeze, where the barb wire fence lines the penitentiary.

A bus rolls down the long road, new inmates arriving. An introduction to their new home. I feel the rush against asphalt, all the country air try to flee the view.

Why I stood on this side of the fence is because Lennox Krause was the owner of the private prison. It wasn’t shocking, especially after meeting the man. He was always thirsty for power, needed to maintain control.

If he couldn’t do it with his own family, then housing a few thousand criminals would justify his personality.

I couldn’t blame them, I didn’t have another residence to claim. For now, this was a house, and I pouted. Rebellious to the spirits who didn’t live in front of the mansion.

But I began to hum a song, my only solitude to calm my racing worries. With the same melody, my mother would whisper to me as I hid.

“Olallie, Olallie, my fair lady. The hair of a halo, a crown of gold. Once you cry those tears of joy, you won’t ever be scared or cold. Our hands are open, my eyes always hearing. Don’t worry darling, there is nothing to be fearing.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7

LAWSON

 

Football was God's sport out here in ole' Oklahoma. My cousins breathed it, and we all played it in hopes of being recognized as someone worth betting on.

I didn’t love the sport like some of them did. But I did enjoy the attention it got me. Currently, it got me the attention of one Raine Robert's. And damn it if I wasn't glad to flex a little more when she saw me running by.

This town knew my name, and I knew everyone connected in the county limits. Kids at high school had years to become acquainted.

After the showers, we meet up with some of the girls, and Verse waves me over.

"Yo, Law! You see what Syn is wearing?" Verse nudges his head to the side, not savoring in her skin.

Sure enough, she has a low cut shirt on and short skirt.

"Crimsyn, better change before the party, or I'll be forced to tell the boys your off-limits."

Crimsyn flips her hair around her shoulder, and death glares me hard. "Asshole."

"Love you too, sis." Blowing a pathetic kiss in her direction. She stomps off, knowing not to mess with my orders.

We arrive at the twin's house shortly after, and I smooth my wet hair to one side. My t-shirt smooth and my scent fresh. Beers and weed are free for all, and we take our share.

"Man, did you hear another one of Knox's kids is coming to live with him." Verse takes a long drag like a pro, not even coughing it. Holding it until his lungs barely collapse.

"Who?" I can’t think straight through the fog.

"Calhoun, what is your new sister's name?" Baby brother, Vayden, yells over his shoulder to Calhoun.

"Olallie, I think..." He and my cousin Samson are sharing a blunt and a beer.

"Man, you don't know?" Vayden shouts back at him, trying to out stage the music.

"She was never important until now." An admission seems off, but there is too much honesty in it.

'"Which one of you, Sonny boys are going to fall victim to the new little lovebird?" Kalonie comes in an even shorter skirt then Crimsyn’s.

"Hard pass." Before I even know what she looks like before, I need a life preserver. I guarantee if she is a Krause, then anyone will be too terrified to tempt the girl.

"Verse, what about you?"

"Saving myself for the virgin Mary." Leaning back, showing her a grin.

Making her way over to us, she gives him a wink as a promise. "She might be just that."

"Baby brother, what about you?" Volunteering Vayden is the best idea I think anyone has had all night.

"Shit, I don’t know. I've already got a lot of problems that don’t need women to make it worse." His twisted sense of humor coming out of the gate.

"Or she could make it better, baby brother?" A sophomore chick purrs in his ears, edging toward his lap.

I lick my lips as I inhale another dose of ease. My mind quiets, and the beating of my heart subsides.

"Listen, darling, no offense. If you are interested in emotional distress and lack of sexual arousal, then I am your guy, baby." He thumbs both fingers to his chest—no way to pick up the ladies, by disclosing all those issues.

Kalonie eyes me as she crosses her legs suggestively. She eyes me up and down leans over her boyfriend to grab another cold one, letting the cleavage of her shirt drop further open, and she waits for me to bite my mouth hungry.

But instead, just to piss her off, I stare at her, scrunch my nose, and shrug.

She mocks insult, but boy, I'm sure I'll be getting shit from Crimsyn about it tomorrow. We've grown up together, Patch and her old man were all friends, along with my dad.

Messing with her isn't in my interest. She has a bad vibe, but her dude isn't smart enough to sense it. She is wicked news, just like most who associate with Knox Krause.

Yes, it might be fiery and tempting, but there's always a trick in her eye. A glance behind her back. Whatever ulterior motives that girl has, isn’t meant to be messed with.

She doesn’t have time to plan my punishment, though, as her boyfriend greedily smacks her ass and pulls her up to straddle him. They start to make out, and the noise is disturbing.

"Well, that's our cue. Should we hit the pool?  Or hit the tables?" Calhoun moves first, and we are eager to follow him out of this low-grade porn.

"No poker tonight, boys, daddy has guests." Kalonie unglued herself to spit us the sentence.

"Hey, who is going to give me 50 bucks to jump off the high dive naked? Belly flop?"

Baby brother has a death wish.

All the girls start giggling and then proceed to take their clothes off.

“Oh good, I thought tonight would be boring. Everybody let's break out the disco ball and skinny dip!" It appears the queen has spoken.

I sit in the corner of the swimming pool. An indoor area the Krause’s has down the hallway from the game room. Laughter echoes off the walls. I try not to think that over the backyard a mile over the barb wire fence, my dad and cousin are behind bars.  My forearms rest on the edge of the pool. Out of the back windows, I can see the blurry lights of the prison in the distance.

"You good man?"

"Yeah, just thinking about my padre."

Verse looks out the same window. Nodding. His eyes get smaller when he smokes.

"Can’t hurt you anymore, Law. It's better this way. Patch has been a better father to you than he ever could."

"Yeah, you're right. I just have this crazy worry I'll end up in a cell next to Issy."

"Bro got to stop the negativity. Because you know if you end up there, then chances are I'll be in there too. And I like my space."

"Incoming!" A big splash smacks us in the face.

Guess I don't close my eyes quick enough. I see a mirage of an angel walk through the door. I rub my eyes, and maybe it's a vulnerable second I give myself, but I feel my chest rise, and it's almost like the apparition sparkles.

After the water settles and I whip my head back and forth, clearing my vision. She still stands there. Looking around with a gleam in her smile.

"She's mine."

I can’t believe I say it out loud. But I realize quickly it wasn’t my voice; it’s Vayden’s; baby brother.

A woman I swear I have only seen in my dreams walks in a little further, waiting for recognition. She looks timid, at Calhoun who is busy playing chicken with Samson and some other dudes. They left their shorts on, thank goodness.

No one needs to see all the flapping dicks around. There is enough of that shit in the locker room.

“Ready your weapons, ladies and gentlemen.” Kalonie hoots and hollers, as she sways her hips up the stairs. G-string thong seamless down her ass crack. Her boobs hanging on display.

Stallone, the biggest idiot to grace our town, also Kalonie’s boyfriend. Enjoying the show, not caring who sees his girlfriend’s tits.

Then chaos breaks loose. Water guns and water balloons strike the poor girl, and I bite my cheek, wondering what kind of shitty prank was set up. I push myself out of the pool and walk just as quickly as I can, trying to shield her from the attack.

“Yeah, grab her, Lawson!” Calhoun is on her other side, pulling her to the edge of the pool.

“Dude, I don’t think this is cool. Who is she, chick looks scared?”

“It’s Olallie, she’s our long-lost sister.” I’m yanking her back, hair moves away from her face, and I see some device connected to the back of her ear. I let go, worried what’s attached.

Calhoun laughs as he pushes her forward. She trips and goes over the edge—her blonde hair slapping at the water.

“What the fuck, Cal?” Baby brother dives under the bodies, swimming to help.

Olallie comes up coughing, and I jump to the side as Vayden lifts her up to me. She turns on her side, throwing up some green shit. I don’t even care, though, I take another step forward.

“What the fuck is your problem, Calhoun? Shit ain’t funny.” Verse pushes aside all the other drunk peers.

Calhoun is leaning against the wall, snickering over at Kalonie. Like the evil twins conspiring against the weakness link.

The girl on the ground tries to stand, but wobbles and Verse catch her. She brushes everybody off, waving her hands. Not sure who to trust, wanting space to escape.

Tremors riot her hands as she tries to untangle her hair with the wires on her ear. She disengages a plastic piece, first her right, then her left.

As she walks to the exit, she throws them in the trash. Not speaking a word to anyone, as if she doesn’t want to be remembered.

For some reason, I am angry. No other emotion is surfacing, and I turn, taking Calhoun by the throat.

It’s a rage, I try to calm the steam. An alter ego that makes me want to call my father and ask how vicious our bloodline can get. My mother would know.

“Describe to me what the purpose of that joke was, Cal?” His head slams against the wall so hard that I flinch at the noise.

“LAWSON! Get your fucking hands off my brother!” Kalonie screeches in the background.

“Back off, Lawson, you play by our rules.” Calhoun has the gumption to spit in my face.

“We don’t follow anybody’s rules.” My forearm replaces my hand, and I press his throat a little more.

“It doesn’t matter what the fuck you say to her, she’s nobody.” Raine, who is Kalonie’s bitch #1 yell at me, all attraction for her vanishes from my body.

As if that justifies the cruelty.

Samson moves to grab me, but Verse is faster and holds him back.

“One day, you are going to have to pick a side cousin. You better hope you’re on the right side.” I release Calhoun, at least the dude has the courage not to fall to the floor like a little bitch.

It wasn’t the first time the twins had crossed a line when it came to haze other kids. But for some reason, this one rubbed me the wrong way.

“Sonny, boys, let’s rollout.” I holler loudly, making a statement more now. My cousins and their girls line up and ship out.

“Have fun with your hands tonight.” Verse flips off the Krause crew as we leave.

We make it to the hallway, and I look down at my phone. Wondering who to text to take the edge off. I can hear my friends out front. Verse goes on ahead to talk to some big boobs.

But when I try to leave, I hear the softest of cries. Thinking I listen to things, I brush it off and walk a few more steps. Something knocks down the hallway, and it crashes.

“Hello?”

A scurry moves, and I look around the corner to see the blonde ghost clinging to the wall.

“Hey, are you alright?” I bend down, my towel hanging around my neck. My fingers reach out to touch her, but I notice them shake.

But they continue their path, even as she recoils.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” She looks at my lips as I continue to talk. Never once replying.

“Are you good?”

She shakes her head, no—eyes trained on the movement of my lips. Usually, when a girl stares that intensely at my lips, she is naked.

“My name’s Lawson used to be friends with the twins. They can be real terrors sometimes. Usually, it never gets this bad. They took it too far, I’m sorry.” Now I’m apologizing for someone else’s fuck up. I am going to beat Calhoun and pay Crimsyn to take a hit at Kalonie for this bullshit.

Her blue eyes follow the way my lips form words. They pinch together, confused, but then she looks at me.

Eyes bright like tropical waves. Stunning definition of blue sky days. I lean down, and Olallie’s eyes grow more full, but I don’t know what comes over me.

A magnetic pull, brings me closer, and some artificial source makes me blink. Not even when I press our lips together, do I believe it’s anything other than a bad high. Confused that I am touching tongues with a skittish outsider.

“Lawson? You still here, buddy?” Verse calls from down the hall. My senses come back to hit me as she jumps back, knocking our foreheads apart.

“Hey, you found her! Vayden was worried about her. She doing okay?” He slides beside me, and I try to act like I didn’t kiss a complete helpless stranger.

Terrified one, in the corner of her new home, a place that supposed to hold safety.

“You okay, pretty girl?” His smile makes the girls comfortable, makes them trust him. Even if it is for false reasons.

The girl in front of us shows her hands touch her ears and shakes her head. She does it again and again. Touches her lips and then her ears.

“She’s deaf, you idiots. All she can do is read your lips without the cochlear implants. But the twins destroyed the ones at the pool.” Baby brother coming in at the last minute to save us. His own hands begin to sign some formal introduction.

When he points to us, she lets out a small giggle. A sound I want to get on my knees and beg to hear more. Wherever it came from, I need more. I want more. I have to be the source of it.

“Don’t be badmouthing us. We are the good guys.”

Are we?

I look at Verse, trying to catch his humor. He stands up and smacks his brother in the chest, leaving us alone again.

Fuck, I am fascinated.

“Do you know where your bedroom is?” Am I talking weird? I feel like I am shouting.

She points to a door behind us but jiggles the door handle. It’s locked. Classic twin torture in the works. Hope this girl, is brave, might have to grow a few thick layers of skin.

I pull out my knife, and it reflects light, but she doesn’t turn away in fear. I reach above her head and unlock her door.

“There you go. Probably smart to put something in front of your door for the first few nights.” She turns on her hands and knees to get up.

All I see is through a wet dress, hugging her nice ass. Damn, don’t be a creep.

The youngest Krause sister turns and touches her chin coming outward to me.

“Do you want anything?”

A shake of the head, she beckons me further into the room. I don’t even hesitate to follow.

She finds a pen and a piece of a wrapper. Olallie writes down, thank you, and hands it to me. The chick is maybe a foot or shorter than me. I lean into her as she holds out her hand.

I take the note and read it.

“You’re welcome.”

Going to a drawer from her dresser, she pulls out a silk nightgown. My mind tries to remember if I’ve ever seen anything so smooth.

As she passes to her bathroom, I take hold and feel the fabric in my rough hands. If this is some kind of metaphor, I might get it in the morning after the buzz wears off.

She doesn’t think it’s strange a teenage boy holding her lingerie. In another drawer, she goes and finds another shorter one to change into while I am stuck dumbfounded, holding the first one.

~

I didn’t want to be the first to notice the glow from her spotlight. She held quiet smiles as she walked down the hallways.

It was the first time I realized how beautiful different really was—the second thought of how I was going to hate myself for hurting her.

Olallie let her faults flash to the masses, and I worried she would expose all of mine. There I was shaking my head back and forth.

No way, no how I refuse.

It wasn’t in me to want something so odd, but she was the very definition. It repelled me, the scent of her like fresh spring rain and vibrant night skies. Deep inside, I knew how horrible being different felt.

How the uneasiness of being outcasted crept in and never really left you.

Insecure girls gawked after her outfit, the dress matching her hypnotic eyes. Premature guys walked by her, confused at the sight of the bubbly blonde façade. She was headed right toward me, my chin balancing on my chest.

Feeling her so close, the energy between us gave me a sweat. I closed my eyes, and as she passed, I heard the conversation we would one day have to fight against.

Huddled into a group pow-wow as our coach called a timeout. The crowd around us was excited tonight. Our opponents were the bitches from across the river. The fights that broke out made for a good game. Things were already starting to get heated. The energy around the field became electric. I look out to the stands, my family cheering us on.

A ghost of a girl sitting by her father, mid-conversation with Patch. She sees me and waves. I wave back like a drunk fool.

“Arzola! Are we interrupting your social hour here, son? Get your ass back in the game!” My coach bites my head off, as I run to put my helmet back on, to cover the effect Olallie has on me.

Before I run, I barely catch Kalonie’s scowl as she observes the exchange. I take the warning, not wanting drama from her.

Even if she comes to find me later like she is desperate as I am to be in the same space.

“Lawson?” Meek, sweet and a bit offbeat.

“I can’t, Olallie.”

She held tight to her sigh, before finally letting it pass by those pink lips.

“You just won’t.”

“Pick somebody else, sweetheart.”

“That’s not how soulmates work, darlin’. I’m afraid we're hitched by universal ties instead of mortal choices.” No stammer over her explanation.

“I’ve got to go, O. See you around.” Her curls bob in a nod, while one hand goes to cover her ear. Sadness only shakes us, am I strong enough to give in?

She doesn’t watch the pointing fingers, crude remarks, or the hip thrusts. Her head held high as she strolls past me, not giving me a second thought.

Hate begins to grow, and I can’t locate the place where it has been hiding. But, once I see my ghost girl, I know the beast has finally awoken, and there isn’t any reason to put it to rest.

Olallie rubs against me like a tormented ghost. I try to cool my features, perfect my scowl, but every bit of my strength wants to banish the demons she feels.

Because I can feel them too.

They don’t haunt like she does, but they punish all the same.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 8

OLALLIE

 

Junior year was starting, and the twins were seniors this year. There is no tattle-telling to Knox about what the twins did to me when I first arrived.

However, Leonie is some sort of sorcerer, and she conducted a family meeting to ease the peace.

“Kalonie, what were you thinking?” Leonie stands guard between us, a barrier no one dares to knockdown.

“I don’t know, maybe she would just run away. Go back to whatever back woods hole she climbed out of.” I look over to see Calhoun stare at me like he is worried that for the first time, his twin might be leading him down the wrong path.

“Where? This is her home now. She has no other residency except this one. Should we contact the aunts that wanted to erase her?” Leonie is searching for a dignified answer, not an immature one.

My aunts, I wonder where they have gone. How their lives continue, without the absence of my mother.

How nice it must feel to not carry around her death like a suffocating souvenir.

“Wouldn’t hurt to ask?”

“Sometimes, I worry you are mentally incompetent. Does acting stupid reap more benefits?” The thought actually makes our oldest sister curious.

Knox arrives, kisses Leonie on her head, gives Calhoun a hug, and waves to me, nodding to Kalonie to finish his greeting.

“Why do you talk to me like that?” A screech from Kalonie makes it almost impossible to leave my implants plugged in.

“Like what exactly?”

“See! Exactly! You aren’t better than us, just because you skipped 3 grades, and decided to get a bachelor’s degree before you turned 18.”

“I mean in some areas. Statistically it does.” Her comeback making light of the situation, even though she isn’t joking.

“Not helping, Leonie.” This comes from Cal, who has shifted all sights on the carpet. I wonder if he is thinking of Samson.
“What about Asher?” The perfect plan of rescue.

“He’s gone, Olallie.” Knox is staring at his phone.

“Where did he go? Could you contact Denver, maybe he knows where Asher got assigned?” It isn’t the first time I wished upon my lucky stars to be back with Asher.

It is the first time that I actually have to confidence to voice my request.

“Olallie, he went on a private mission, and he came back in a body bag.” Knox Krause didn’t have emotions, his feelings were piercing in his face, but were inactive.

Gone? I had gotten used to Asher being gone, but I didn’t even think he could be dead. If it takes two to tango, then does it cause a third party to hold onto all their broken hearts?

“Dad! You can’t let her talk to me like I’m—I’m some retard!” Again, the volume is way too loud on Kalonie’s voice.

“Are you sure?” My voice is aimed at our sperm donor.

“Leonie, deal with Kalonie. I have a migraine. Yes, Olallie, I am sure, would you like to see the proof of the paperwork?”

“You tried to get rid of me?”

This time he flips his head directly at me, offended by the accusation.

“No, Olallie, I didn’t try to get rid of you. Sometimes at night, you talked in your sleep. Your nightmares were bad the first few months after Luna died. Asher, his name was the one you always called out for. So, I tried to find him, maybe he could help you. But by the time I did, it was too late, and that’s why you went to Texas. Because I didn’t know how to heal you from losing another person.” His confession makes me believe there might be significance in him.

It could be he wants to give parts of Luna some of his grace if she resides within me.

I wonder if he worries his fate will be like the others. If we were cataloging deaths around me and the ratio of survival rates. It wasn’t a promising figure.

But I shouldn’t worry him, if anybody was going to be next, I would make sure it was going to be me.

~

I looked patiently at my course schedule—Home Education for two periods. I silently high fived myself. I couldn’t be happier.

“You look like Alice in Wonderland.” A goth chick stared at me, glancing over my outfit.

“Is she in a band?”

“What’s your name, Alice?” She smiled.

“Olallie.”

“Awe, the secret Krause love child. Daddy couldn’t seem to keep it in his pants when he robbed your momma’s cradle, huh?”

“Xandra, shut up. Leave the little blonde alone.” Lawson came toward me, sat behind me, and never looked in my direction again.

“Oh my gosh! Is it fate that all you Sonny boys, fall for this pretentious Krause kindred?”

“I’m not a Krause.”

“Really? What miracle happened to you?”

“I’m a Lovett. Abandonment and then death.”

“Cool. Really cool.” And she honestly meant it.

“Thanks.” Mumbling under my fresh minty breath.

“Where they been hiding you, angel?”

“You don’t need to call me an angel. My mom used to call me Halo.”

“Well, halo, where was your wonderland?”

“Dripping Springs, Texas.”

“That explains the accent and the pretty girl getup.”

“What’s that behind your ear?”

I fumble with my hair to cover up the device, hoping the perfectly round curls cover the wire and small microchip. I look down at my seat and pick at the wooden graffiti desk. Scrawled with the names of past users. Maybe even victims of the hearing world.

“A present from Lennox Krause.”

“What’s with the note writing. This isn’t second grade.” She mildly shouts in my ear.

I tap my ear twice, and she looks confused, so I turn away. I can speak. I can talk. I guess I can hear what others say. But some days I get sick of explaining.

Heat makes me turn my head to the man they call Lawson. His eyes penetrate me. They glare, and they judge. I don’t try to smile, because I didn’t wake up to Miss Callie demanding our manners. I hear a sudden slam next to me, and I shift and hold my breath, but I refuse to look.

He must sense my fear as he stares behind me but takes my hand, covering it. Not saying anything until the teacher comes to class and asks for our attention.

Turning forward, but keeps rotating to make sure I am still there. Still breathing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 9

OLALLIE

 

“Hi, I’m Vayden.” A tall guy with short dreadlocks and appealing eyes stops at my lunch table.

“Hi Vayden, are you also lost?”

“No, but I see you have been quarantined from the others. What disease is it? From the looks from Lawson, I would assume it’s Love.”

“I apologize, can I help you?”

“I thought we could be friends.”

“You were misled if my cheerful interactions brought you to my table. I assure you that was a warning to stay away, not an introduction to proceed with caution.”

“I knew I would like you.” He plops down in front of me and flicks my head side to side to make sure someone isn’t playing a prank on me.

Kalonie has gotten more secretive, and I can’t trust her demeaning looks like any longer. It isn’t safe to be in your pathway.

“Probably easier if you didn’t, what would your crew think?” Motioning to the sonny boys who have two tables pushed together, every day at lunch was a Thanksgiving feast.

“Not my crew, my brother’s.”

I look to find one that mirrors his features, but I come back to Lawson’s vacant glare.

“My brother is Lawson’s right-hand, man.” Thumbing behind him and I match surprised eyes with who he points.

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“Verse.” Vayden keeps munching on his sandwich, and when he stops to take a breath, he starts on his chips.

“I thought all the guys in the group had son on the end of their name.”

Vayden takes a minute, looks back, and shrugs, “most of them do, but not all. It isn’t like the old restrictions anymore. Not after Lawson’s cousin, Maroon, got sentenced, it actually started to dwindle after Lawson’s dad got sent to prison.”

I don’t act shocked because nothing seems to phase me anymore.

He says it, and all I do is stare at him until he is satisfied that I won’t ask him to continue. The why is not necessary, the why is the reason everyone wonders. But I blink, and the awareness is stored, we move on to another subject.

“Vayden, huh?’

“Better than my first name.”

“Which is?”

“Haiku.” His dark eyes peak and wait for some reaction, but I’ve got none to share.

“Your brother, Verse?”

“His middle name is Matteo.”

“Are your parents’ writers?”

“My mother is a screenwriter for some teenage soap opera, my dad owns a boxing gym.”

“Is it the two of you? Verse and Vayden?”

“We’ve got two sisters, Lyrick and Storie.”

“Do they go by those names?”

“Lyrick does, her middle name is Itzel. After a Mayan Rainbow lady in mythology or some shit. Sure doesn’t live up to her name. She is this dark brooding artist that feels too much my father says.”

“She sounds like my type of people.”

“Olallie Lovett has a dark side?”

This time I give him a wink as I lean closer.

“Don’t we all, darlin’?”

“I can’t wait to find out.”

“It isn’t a fun type, mostly the despairing type.”

“That is fucking fascinating.”

His curse word makes my lips pucker.

“And Storie’s?”

“Esperanza.”

As I scan over his unique landscape, I start to wonder what ethnicity he embraces. “So, Vayden what’s your favorite food? Chinese or something with more spice?”

“Well, I am glad you asked. Best if we get the most important questions out of the way before we become friends.” He talks on, before he realizes I am still staring at his beautiful face.

“Olallie Lovett was that a sly way of asking me what race I am?” Vayden gives me a wink and I bat my eyes.

“Maybe.”

“Thai and Mexican.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

“Not really, although when my parents argue it gets exciting.”

“Well, well, what do we have here, baby brother?” Verse comes over, smacking his Vayden’s back.

“Matteo, my man, I was just informing Olallie about you wetting the bed last week. She was thrilled to know you are still a virgin and are saving yourself for the right woman or man. Either will work as long as your heart is happy.” Verse starts bickering back, while Lawson and two other guys surround us.

“How’s it going, O?” It isn’t Lawson who asks, but he raises his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

“I’m good, thank you for asking.”

“Are you coming tonight?”

“Yeah, Olallie, you coming tonight?”

“No, she isn’t, I already asked, she’s busy. Has a date with some big hot shot across town.” Vayden says as he catches his breath while in a headlock.

This time my eyes perk just a little at the lie.

“Who the fuck would dare date you?” Lawson, so cruel and controlled by his venom. Passion blossoms over his smooth, chiseled cheeks. My face turned to him and is greeted by a pull of positive and negative force—opposites attracting their counterbalance.

“Awe, Lawson, was there an off-limits tag taped to my backpack?” My perfectly polished nails graze the stubble growing on his chin.

His rough fingers catch on my wrist, stopping the trail. Noticing his clean attire, his wardrobe looking like he takes pride in his appearance as much as his friends do.

The scent of his cologne almost makes me squeal, and the pinch in his eyes lets me know he would like that.

“Babe, didn’t you realize by now your mine?” The heat in his breath makes my skin crawl, another layer reacting to him, making me more uncomfortable.

 

It proved difficult to ignore the sensation every time I passed Lawson in the hallways. The connection made me almost crumble with need. But I took his direction and avoiding our situation seemed to be the smartest idea.

“Ha-ha, pretty girl is still a virgin? Of course, you are darlin’, shame because maybe if you were experienced, we could rough each other up in my bed Saturday night.” The depth of Lawson’s voice made me quiver.

Gulped down a breath and held my head high. If he wanted to experience, I could gather as much, knowing he wouldn’t be an active memory in those participating.

“Vayden, would you mind showing me how to have sex.” My stare contains nothing, a blank expression, and he does not move away either.

“Lawson?” Vayden doesn’t look at me, instead, he hovers at the approval of the guy in front of us.

“You heard her baby brother. She wants you.” He tips his chin up in a nod, and Vayden takes that as confirmation.

“Lawson think this through, once you give him the okay. Can’t take back your approval. He walks clean without backlash.” Verse seems on edge, his voice worried for both parties.

“I stand by what I said. Baby brother, make sure you break her in real good for me. One day I’ll need to see what innocence tastes like.” He walks away, his eyes lingering on the angle of my chin, leading up to my ears.

His gray-brown eyes make sure I have my implants in, knowing what I heard was confirmed.

“She won’t be innocent for long.” Vayden takes my hand, and we stride to the exit of the school.

“I lost my innocence a long time ago. But you can have what’s left, Vay.” My lips go on my tiptoes as I press a kiss to his cheek.

Lawson spoke those words and yet they didn't just hurt me. Grasping his own stomach from the pain that stabbed him.

Tears fell from my eyes, it was silently him that wiped them away as if they trickled down his own face.

I began to hum.

And when the song ended, so did the hurt of being outlived. Lured into a world of love and laughter, being left as ungrateful dead.

I trailed my fingers across the edges of the metal lockers, my Kawaii nails bringing out the blue in my sundress.

"Did you hear what he said, Olallie?"

I nodded.

"I'd kick his ass if Verse wouldn’t retaliate."

"He didn't mean it." I keep humming away the hurt.

"We both know he wished he did mean it."

My tips stop touching, and I finally look up, Vayden looks down at me with pity swelling his wide eyes.

“Come on, let’s go do our victory lap.” Fisting his shirt as I lead him away from the scene, hoping what comes next is as appealing as everyone made it seem.

“Stop, Olallie. I’m not going to fuck you, forget about what Lawson said. He has been an asshole since he was born.” Smoothing out his crumpled shirt.

But the look I give him is anything but timid. I don’t want to be pitied, I want to be vengeful.

“Damn, are you serious right now, girl?” He huffs out a sigh, and I start to wonder if we could be more than friends.

“Scared to kiss the freak?” The pleasure of taunting him.

“No, scared to get shanked in my sleep, because Lawson changed his mind. But, no strange girl, I’m not scared of you. In fact, I’m freaking fascinated. If you want to piss him off let me show you my bedroom. It has a lava lamp!” Tall and goofy, he wraps an arm around my shoulders as he takes me to his mancave.

It does indeed have a lava lamp.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 10

LAWSON

 

My feet are firm on the ground, level on the shag rug. I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for the buzz in my body to stop.

It’s not from the chick behind me, even though she fulfilled her duties.

“You okay, darlin’?” Her soft hand glides down my bare back. The goosebumps disappear quick as I allow them to appear.

But the damn buzzing continues.

“Do you feel that?” I bring my hands up to my face, heat pricks the tips of my fingers. Tiny shock waves pulsing between the lifelines. Rubbing my lips together, the rippling sensation migrates.

“Feel what, baby?”

Baby? God, did I seriously hook up with someone with such shit pet names? What a fucking tragedy this girl is trying to make an effort.

I stand up buttoning my jeans, and find my jacket; the shirt is damned. An escape is in need, her bedroom door my exit. When I close it, the back of my dome knocks on it.

Only to open my eyes to see a small little thing shocked as hell to see me in her hallway.

“Jailbait?” The nickname came from one of my cousins, who thought he found the one he was going to ring and bang the rest of his sappy life.

Only to find out she was 15 and he was 19.

Her eyes are on the ground. She mumbles under her breath. Bringing them up, glaring with little fury.

“What was that, jailbait? Can’t hear you when you talk to the floor.” My smirk grows almost erasing the buzzing in my bloodstreams.

“I said…my name is Hazel. I’ll be sure to tell Olallie you say hello, Lawson.” She bumps her rear against her door and leaves me smiling like a jackass.

The spit of fire doesn’t play fair.

~

“I need to go see a doctor.” My ass sits on the kitchen counter, right in the middle of everyone’s way. “Angel, there is something wrong with me.”

While Angel, my lovely mother scurries to make breakfast.

“What’s wrong, Lawson? Do you have a fever? Is it down below, does it itch?” Not looking at me as she hands Rhett and Stetson their lunch bag.

“No, mom, I always wrap my goods. Need them protected for the next match. These are the symptoms I have; my body is buzzing, and my heart is beating. I can feel the beats, they’re loud. They used to be quiet.” My knuckles brush the fabric over my heart, I found a new shirt.

Angel eyes me; suspicion grows on her face as she stops near the fridge, grabbing an orange.

“Did I tell you last week Crimsyn and I went shopping? We met up with the girl cousins and got smoothies.”

“What kind of smoothies?”

“Well, I had a mango passion parade, and the girls chose kale ones. They are trying new health trends, but after we went and got our nails done. Guess what color I got?”

“What color?’

“Periwinkle twinkle. Look see them sparkle?” She shoves her nails in my face as I nod in approval.

“They look good, Angel. What color did Syn get?”

Silence.

For two full minutes, I watch the microwave clock pass the time.

“Angel?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Are you high? I swear if you tainted your system with drugs, I would spank your behind like a little kid. So help me, Lawson I will gift you the privilege of knowing what prison feels like.” She comes at me playfully slapping my arms, like she could do any damage.

“Whoa! Whoa! No violence in the house. Angel, that’s your rule!” My arms go up to defend myself from her petty attack.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing to the poor boy?” Patch waltzes in with his badge on his hip, grabbing his coffee mug.

They talk about Latin fury, but hands down, they haven’t met a crazed southern momma. Shit, maybe it was just females in general—and all-inclusive standard of hype.

“Patch, he allowed me to talk his ear off about shopping and the salon with him for a half an hour.”

“It was 5 minutes, dad.”

“He asked what color Crimsyn got her nails painted.” With my mother pointing and standing guard behind her husband; he loses his smile.

“What is wrong? Drugs? Whose supplier, they sell that shit at your school, son?” Patch faces me, his eyes eager for a takedown, to be the hero.

“Whoa, calm your tits there pirate. As I was explaining to your wife, my body feels different. It started a few weeks ago, around school started.”

“Puberty.” Case closed, solved in under a minute.

“Thanks, captain, do you get awards for your observations or swift pats on the ass?”

“What happened after you first felt this way?” Angel tries to bring clarity to my confusion.

“There was this girl…” It was her, Olallie draped in a beautiful light-filled with an electric warmth.

“Hormones.”

“Patch.” We both say it at the same time, he gets the hint to shut up.

“What I’m sorry, but the kid is dramatic?” Almost. He puts his hand up and turns to the opposite counter.

The image in my memory is bright, almost glowing, as I stare at the tiles on the floor. Remembering it to its authentic touch. But it can’t be real, I shake my head from side to side to dull the scene.

“It’s like I felt her before I saw her. The buzzing in my ears started, a white noise. Looking over my shoulder and it’s like I got shocked.”

“Lawson, we have had the sex talk every year since you were 10 years old. What you are experiencing is arousal, my little guy.” He tries to ruffle my hair, but I outgrew his height years ago.

“I’m not little, besides this time it felt different. My cock was getting a hard-on ready to pound the fresh puss—” Angel flicks my forehead before I can finish the word. “Meat, the fresh meat! This feeling, it feels almost permeant.”

“So much better degrading the female anatomy.”

Patch rolls his eyes, kisses Angel’s temple. Her eyes widen at me with her folded arms. Once he leaves, she follows his footsteps until she hears the door close.

“Relámpago.” A Spanish accent rolls through, probably from the time she was raised with my dad’s family.

“What? Do you think I would have been struck by lightning without remembering?”

“Not that kind of lightning, one that strikes your heart. Only once does it happen, Lawson.” In her realization, she takes a step back, worried about what lays ahead of me.

“Did you use the vegan mayo that I like, mom?” Crimsyn makes her entrance looking at both of us. After she passes over me, her eyes go to the floor. Our father taught her too well to respect the men in our family.

“Yes, sweetie, and I made apple fries. Your granola bites are in the baggie.” She turns to get my sister’s lunch together.

“What baggie?”

“Goodness Crimsyn, obviously, I put them in the compostable ones, you demanded we use.” She thrusts her bagged lunch at her. My sister glares as she walks out of the front door.

“Thanks a bunch, momma cita.”

“So, Lawson…”

“Don’t worry about it, Angel. It’ll go away.”

“It sometimes does. But until then, when can I meet the girl?” Too hopeful of making promises and keeping them. I just pick up an apple and jump off the counter as she calls my name. Hoping by the time I reach school, her revelation will be forgotten.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 11

OLALLIE

I try to put on a brave face. I try to recognize the beauty within myself, within the struggles. But, I can’t seem to find the strength to look up and knock on his front door.

My mind drifts back to Colorado, where Harper has Shaymus, and Zailey has River. Here I sit, on the curb, trying to find salvation that wasn’t mine to keep.

Luna thought her purpose was for me, and I wondered if mine is meant for a different life. It struck me as odd, but I couldn’t understand how quiet the sensation made me feel.

I told him I would come over, but I hesitate even mentioning that I need a safe place to stay. After Kalonie dumped all my clothes in the dumpster and threatened me with sour words.

So I try and envision what my feet must look like, walking up there and asking for help.

“Patch.”

My fingers tingle to say hi, to explain, to offer anything that represents why I’m here. But, I just put my hands up, palms to Patch’s badge.

He did the same, his feet never made much noise. It almost made me uncomfortable with how quiet the approach.

“Halo?” Patch’s fingers went above his head. Why did he use that name? Was it a ploy from Knox? Only my mother and Asher called me that.

Shame fills me, it drops from the heavens. It cascades over my instruments of language. Letting my hands fall to my sides, silenced once again.

“Looking for Lawson?” A deep voice vibrates in my right ear. I cover it up, the noise too familiar.

Like father, like son.

Bound by bond, instead of blood.

Devastation doesn’t describe me, as my hand moves from my ear to my cheek. Holding my head there in defeat.

My mother will never hold my hand again. Tell me it’s okay. Calm my nerves on my wedding day if I made it there, or when a baby is born.

The loss is noticeable, an empty space sitting next to me. An unholy ghost, affecting me to the point of feeling incomplete. There must be a reason, a silver lining to the chaos I condone. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 12

LAWSON

 

Outside, the sun starts to peek over the trees, my jacked truck is wet with morning dew. Feeling the same need to be taken care of.

The weather is already turning to shit, and I avoid the chill. It fucking makes me shiver, you think with all this body mass that I wouldn’t feel it cold in my bones.

I refuse to use a coat, even though every morning this week, I scraped frost off my windows.

A bright light reflects in my mirror as Olallie makes her way past my house. A few feet away, she doesn’t look to me.

“Olallie.” For a second, she slows but keeps her head down, focused on her path.

“Be a whipped bitch or be an asshole?” Choices, choices.

“Damnit!” I run after her because apparently, I don’t know how to stay the fuck away from trouble. Just like a bug, hypnotized to something that will kill it. Loving the burn, a fool to the magnet.

My grip finds her elbow, not even startling her, and it doesn’t surprise me. Damn, if I couldn’t hear, I would be more paranoid than a tweaker coming down from heaven.

Olallie doesn’t even turn to see who is holding her back. Seconds pass until our breaths match a steady tone. She finally lifts her head, then turns to me. A look that stares into the abyss of my forgotten soul, vacant of effort on her face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

No makeup layered on her face. Eyes rosy with strain. In the months that I have known her. Olallie has always been made up to look like a beauty queen.

“Where’s your coat?” Why do I care?

She starts walking again. I let her because who the hell am I to stop her, she wants to leave, by all means, go.

“Fuck…” Turning back to my house to get her a jacket. By the time I get back to the road, she is already down to the next block. Chick speed walks like hell is on her heels.

When I get close enough to place it on her shoulders, she is swift to flip it off and return it to my house.

“Aggravating piece of work you’ve got on your hands now, Lawson.” Keep the pep talk accurate.

When Olallie gets to the front door, she knocks politely. It opens to, and she hands the coat to Angel. Then she rushes past me finishing her journey to school. My arms high to the sky, confused at what went wrong.

My mother smiles at my bewilderment.

Fuck, all the women in my life are a pain in the ass.

Later at school, still frustrated from the morning encounter. Olallie hasn’t arrived yet, and Kalonie is smirking with her bitch face turned right the fuck on.

When the girl that makes my mind want to hurl comes into the classroom, she looks like a dirty puddle got dumped on her.

Olallie makes her way to the teacher’s desk, the plumped lip substitute gives her a side glanced. Annoyed with the interruption.

“Maybe people like you with your disability don’t belong with the big wolves, ghost girl.” It’s me, I say the shitty line out loud.

Today my ghost doesn’t have a voice, just another reason to disappear. Olallie attempts to explain that she doesn’t have books or paper. At least I think that’s what that sign means? Who knows, maybe they agree on a time to meet up after school to get their freak on.

The sub-points at her golden hoop earrings before going back to her phone. Olallie drops her head, defeated. An expression that makes my spine straighten. She goes to her seat 2 rows over, amid the popularity bullshit.

Class starts, but I’m locked on her, tormented in her own world. The crowd doesn’t stop their conversations, ignoring her existence.

Tears fall onto her desk, her hands shake as she tries to cover her face. Part of her hair splits, and she’s missing her left hearing device.

Kalonie high fives Raine, while Calhoun peeks at Olallie. He must feel the heat of my glare because he moves to mine and then readjusts them to the front of the room before I can make him break.

There is no way to tell if the open threats are making her break or the fact she is isolated like a sinking ship.

“No.” It’s out of my mouth loud and clear. But she is gone, and I can’t catch a glimmer.

"STOP! I DIDN'T MEAN IT!" I chase after Olallie, "Fuck, ghost, haven't you ever said anything you didn't mean before?"

No, unlike you, I have time to plan out every word I say. Which ways to place my hands to make statements. She starts flinging her angry hands around, and every time Olallie raises them, they are a loaded gun aiming at my heart, shooting to blow my chances.

She tells me she's different. The same thing I told everybody in that classroom behind us. Yet I didn't use different, I told them, her kind didn’t belong here.

“You did mean it, and you know it.”

Tears, the fucking tears make me want to rip out my own eyes. She doesn’t wipe those waterworks, allowing them to run and soak into an ironed dress.

I don’t mean to, but I follow her out the school grounds, over the hill beyond the football field. She stops once to look behind, accepting that I’m pursuing her.

We end up at the Krause mansion, and she leaves the front door open. I don’t hesitate to close it behind me. Not even nervous, Knox would find me strolling behind his youngest daughter.

I remember the way to her bedroom before she turns the knob. I’m right behind her, bumping chest against her back.

Then we collide, and I do remember to flip the lock. She unzips the dress and lets it slip away. Olallie’s insecurities going with it. No speech enters the area, I tug my shirt over my head. Jeans and junk drawer next.

Blue eyes raise glory to heavens above. I struggle to remember why staying detached was positive.

Olallie closes in on me. I look down at our feet touching now, her toes painted baby blue. She doesn’t ask, her hand wrapping itself around my hard cock, and I blink, stepping back in surprise.

I doubt Vayden taught her those seductive tricks.

But Olallie doesn’t give up, she inches forward, and I try to think of a food I hate to stay repulsed.

Instead of grabbing me between the legs, she uses her own to crawl on the bed and wait for me to make the first arrangement.

Easing nearer, I take my time looking at all the curves in the beauty. My body crawls over her. I shrink, fitting my weight to feel lighter as I rub on top of her.

“Make it stop, the beating in my chest so broken I can't establish a beginning or an end. It's constant, Lawson. Make sense of its pattern. Because it doesn’t feel like my own. It belongs to someone else, someone worthy of freedom.” Olallie’s prayer comes to my conscious state, and I would do anything to make it right.

“I'm tied to it like you are devoted to a corrupt father. Your loyalty and mine are a match made in sorrow. A dead mother hangs over my shoulders, and I've been carrying around her weight since I was a little girl, hoping my good deeds could revive her.” Olallie’s words sound too personal, worried I shouldn’t be hearing them.

Instead, I feel them everywhere.

But I know she does it on purpose, every sentence exposing both of us on different levels.

For the first time since my first sexual experience, my hands shake. Nervous about the act, wondering what it will mean. If it will be more than I can handle. What if it is dull and plain?

She kisses my neck, and I close my eyes as my fingers find her wet core. Nipples rub against my chest, my cock only growing more impatient.

Olallie’s hands dance up my back like she is playing her favorite melody. She arches as I push my fingers deeper, searching for the source.

Condoms come to my mind, and I shift off her a bit to reach my pants. Those determined hands cup my jaw, and something comes over me as she locks contact.

My only desire is to push inside her so deep that I forget every pain I’ve ever gained. So, I do. I spread her smooth legs, the tip of my penis kisses her pink lips.

Olallie’s hips buck, wanting more, needing to feel something extreme. The first few inches are a struggle. My bite on my jaw leaves me concerned I’ve cracked a tooth.

Her legs lock around me, pulling me further, needing to have complete involvement. I push also and a quiet gasp follows through as her boobs arch upward.

My mouth salivating to appreciate her entire shape. Bending my head down, I kiss before I suck. This time I won't hesitate to hold back; I jam in and out of her. She takes every bit of the punishment I provide.

Welcoming the promise of an orgasm. Olallie moans. It sounds like the waves muttering to the shore, about how they’ve been missed.

“More.” Olallie silently begs.

Tight, is all I can think of, so tight that if Vayden did take her virginity, he didn’t steal it fully. Because after we’re done, and I unload inside her. There is also blood to be abandoned with the desire.

As I roll on my back away from her, I look to the roof, where stars swirl. I witness the galaxies of another dimension.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 13

OLALLIE

I like dreaming about the light. Lust after the solitude in which darkness caters to me. It isn’t welcoming, but it never leaves.

Lawson is asleep next to me, napping after our ignite into intimacy. Lips that are rough but so pure to press against. The ceiling above us perceiving universal changes.

Naked, lying underneath a sheet, I turn on my side away from him, staring out the open window. Sunlight of the afternoon greets my fingertips, and I play with the rays.

Lawson rolls identical to me, gripping onto my waist. Grounding me to our previous highs.

Something tells me that it won’t last long, though.

~

Lennox Krause and I had a silent game going. Who was I kidding? All my games were quiet until a few years ago. When he demanded to fix my frailty and stole my solace, along with pieces of my past.

It was a form of hiding and seek—one where we hoped to never find each other. Days after school, I would try and not roam the halls in his manor—random pictures of places and objects that didn’t belong to my memories.

Sometimes he would say things that would shock me, and other times I numbly nodded and walked away.

He tried to vacate his home, sneak out before I arrived back. It’s like he was afraid I would realize he was still alive.

The last caretaker was connected to me.

Today we were not so lucky. As I came around the corner, I heard Knox's jacket rustle in haste.

“Oh, hi. Olallie, I’m just headed—”

“Out.” I opened the door for him and bent down to hand him his messenger bag. Acting like an imaginary maid for him as he took it out of my grasp and walked on by. The smaller the words meant less energy, my voice almost sounded relatively reasonable, considering.

“Where are Cal and Leonie?”

The burst of laughter coming through the pool room broke my speech. And he simply nodded.

I began to shut the door, but I had a question.

“Do you avoid me because I remind you of her?” My eyes cast down, and I attempt to predict an answer. I saw a slight shrug and a shake of the head.

“No. Not entirely. If I am being honest, it’s hard to look at you. You look exactly like me, but you are completely different.” He huffed out a breath. “Like I am staring into a mirror, that is too raw and personal. Shows me everything I’m not. All the goodness Luna obtained and passed down to you, it’s not who I am, Olallie.”

I feel what he doesn’t admit. I think twice as much.

“I should have visited you more.” Knox expels the sentiment like the shear confession would have made the childhood I navigated smooth.

“More?”

“I should have visited. Period.”

I start to sign because there is so much I want to say, and when my hands open, everything spills that was buried. Stopping mid-sentence only to realize he doesn’t even follow the wave of my hands. I shake my own head and turn around.

“Bye, Knox.”

“You’re wrong. I was full time with the others. I didn’t even start going to work outside the home until you came here. It was finally my turn, I thought. I got a chance to be there for you.” His rough hand smoothing the golden locks on his head.

“Instead, I sent you away, thinking it was for the best, got you an operation I know you despise. Thought I was making your life better. Asher told me not to do it. Begged me, even. Said it was your God-given right to hinder the racket in the world.” He was talking to the walls before I could answer he carried on with his speech.

“Your mother always was quick to forgive. She hated being upset or hurt. She didn’t enjoy emotions. Mature, so mature. You can tell yourself I didn’t come around because of the obligations to my business. Three other kids to occupy my time. It isn’t true.” He looks up and stares at me, water fills his eyes, and I can’t be more uncomfortable.

“There were hours, hours, Olallie. I sat in the car, convincing myself I needed to go and see you, be with you. There was part of me out there suffering, and somehow I needed to save it before it was too late. But I just sat there. Not feeling pulled in either direction.”

“When you were born. After Luna told me devasted that you couldn’t hear. She taught me how to sign. I practice every day.”

“Luna talked about you after you went and lived with her parents. Talked about your sign, when you learned to walk. How you wrote your name, your grades at school. She was so proud of you. Constantly badgering me about how wonderful you were.” Tears start falling from both our eyes, and I realize he loved my mother, with a love I didn’t know he was strong enough to endure.

“When your grandparents died, and she got custody back. She never called again. She didn’t come by, to say goodbye. You became her world and she was gone from mine. Her voice echoes in my head, and I ache to hear it. How simple and pure it radiated.” Taking a minute to grieve.

 “Know that Luna always said, we did one thing good in the world, Lenny, we made a daughter who is the best part of both of us. And maybe that’s all we are here to do, to pass on the greatest attributes we have offering it the ones we create. I loved Luna, I shouldn’t have. She was too young, Rebecca had recently ended her life. But I still do.”

In his rambles, we gained an audience. I sense their approach and quick shocks of breath as they saw a man so influential and respected in the community crumble at their feet.

“Dad?” Calhoun, first steps around me to grab his father’s figure.

“I never loved your mother, though, she’s a bitch. Your sister is turning out just like her.” Emotions exhausting him.

“Gee, thanks, dad!” Kalonie yells and spins back to the pool, muttering asshole the whole way.

“Knox, come on, let’s go back to your office and find your candy stash.” Leonie breaks the awkward tension as she holds her father upon her tiny shoulders like she had been doing it for years.

“Way to go, Olallie, make the strongest man I know fall to his knees.” Cal claps times thrice and leaves the entryway.

Leonie’s eyes meet mine, and she smiles like we are sisters, and this is our father.

“I’ll come to talk to you when I get him settled.” She winks at me, and walks my father down the hall, he staggers like being honest and emotional is worse on him than going on a drunken bender. Energy sucked out of the depth of his soul.

I stand there a good while, only do I turn to meet his eyes that whisper in my sleep sweet things.

“You going to be alright, O?” His arms are crossed over his bare chest. Hair dried, from the duration of the family drama.

“I’ll be good as new.” Nodding, leaning my head against the doorframe.

“Do you want company?” Lawson offers a contribution I ache to be fulfilled by only him. Yet, he makes the distance known between us.

“I wouldn’t want to take up any more of your time with my dramatics.”

“That wasn’t dramatic. It’s a family. We all have problems.” I don’t consider it for too long. He rarely speaks about who he came from, where our family secrets couldn’t be sealed by witness protection.

“Could I kiss you now?” He raised eyebrows like I was going to deny.

“Of course.” Because his permission to enter my body once has already had approval.

Leaning in, he first stares at my blue eyes, then down at my lips. He cupped my chin and tilted it skyward. His mouth was warm as they met my cool ones. The swipe of his tongue sent shivers down my spine.

His hand finding my hanging there and tingling as he intertwined our fingers to become one.

“Every time I kiss you, I always wonder if it’s poison or a promise on those virgin lips.” Lawson hugged me and held me as his breath calmed down the unsteady jump in my heartbeat. “I look forward to having more with you soon.” With that, he was gone, behind the doors where my half-siblings reigned supreme.

“Dude! Your sister was totally trying to hook up with me!” His teasing voice rings out, and I try to swallow the amount of ecstasy and pride.

It wouldn’t be the last thing I would have to forgive Lawson for. After all, we were just getting started. Soon, he promised, and soon was coming whether either of us were ready.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 14

OLALLIE

 

When I look back on my youth and discuss it with others, each of us confessing what stole our innocence. I will mumble to myself, whispering the truth of my own betrayal, that it was sorrow that cured my childhood imagination.

Not the doubts or cautions of adults. But it was my own despair that caused the colors to fade and my name to remain the same.

 

It’s not your fault.

It never is unless we accept blame, accepting the blame I did.

Before, the cochlear became a part of my person. When I was little, I would sit on the carpet in the living room. My mother stood behind me, watching me as I felt the vibrations of bass that rolled through the floor.

She would smile like I was experiencing sensations I couldn’t describe. And I couldn’t. Because I didn’t know how to understand something I couldn’t hear.

Sometimes the song would fade, and I would hear new vibrations. Angry tones and calm rage. Asher lashing out and my mother standing ground to bring him clarity. I closed my eyes and imagined what he would say to her. How she refused to react insulted or harmed.

Luna’s eyes always looking toward me, like I would vanish, now that she was finally allowed to love me. To this day, I wondered what kind of love Luna Lovett and Asher Rainer shared.

Was it enough? Would it have lasted? Was it a love story, people wrote stories about or admired in public? Would I receive and give the same affection, one locked in forever?

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 15

OLALLIE

 

Leonie and I shared an ordinary loss. Both our mothers loved us more than a survival of self.

We weren't best friends, didn't shop together. Sometimes late at night, she would be there sitting on the porch nestled next to an open chair—an invitation where our words didn't matter, not needing to hear me speak to understand.

I wonder if she remembers Rebecca like I remember Luna? Or she might remember more of Luna than I could ever convince myself of knowing.

We stare out in the field as we watch fireflies flirt with the overgrown grass.

This was peace when the only noise I needed was my own heartbeat to remind me I was alive, and Luna didn't waste hers saving mine.

I don't know what surprised me more. The fact I was here sitting in front of Rebecca's headstone or that my mother was a few rows down. I stared at her name. My fingers circling around the letters. Wondering if her pain was equal to the same killing as Luna's.

I wondered how far Asher had gotten before he lost motivation to continue. I wanted to know what a life with him would be like. Maybe if destiny allowed, we would both have healed and earned happiness. But that isn't the way our lives had gone. It certainly wasn't my brightest moment when I asked Knox one day if I could see him.

He looked up at me, confused. Like I didn't know, how could I have not known? Didn't you feel the earth shake as another person was stripped from your life? Didn't you sense the tide pull back too far it exposed all the bones? Didn't you hear the silence every time you cried and were left without a home?

Didn't you know he went and didn't return?

"Your mom didn't like smoking. But sometimes she would stand next to someone just to smell it. Like she was addicted to the scent of danger." A tidbit from Leonie.

Sounds like Luna.

Sounds like a person who knew her limits and still overcame. I looked up at her. She was special. Like you, like I am. They wanted us to believe being different was wrong, that it would hurt us if we exposed our truths.

I didn't want to be different. I wanted to see my mother again. I wanted Asher to be my dad. I wanted the guy down the block to love me instead of fearing me. I wanted my sisters to stop making me feel small, insignificant, and, most of all, vague.

Afternoons were empty, and I walked around the town, a tree lining down the road caught my attention, and I remembered what it was from.

Finding this was something I forgot to mention. Forgot to inquire about locating. Missing pieces of Luna was standard when you didn’t have anyone else to reminiscence with.

“Olallie.” Down the path, Leonie strolled over to me, her steps patient, my mind not.

“Yes?” Not taking my eyes off Rebecca Townsend’s date of birth.

“Would you sign to me?” Her legs folded over one another, participating in the conversation.

“What do you want me to sign?”

“Anything, tell me a story. I'm fascinated by how you communicate with your hands.”

I didn’t know if I should be impressed or offended. But she sat across from me, not really smiling but eager to learn. And that's how we spent our afternoons, sitting in the graveyard spilling secrets with our hands. While our dead mothers watched from above as their names were carved in stone beside us.             

My mother was a unique creature. She wasn’t after fame, a name, or even money that kept her free from obligation. She was attracted to my father utilizing attitude hot to the touch and quickly burned.

Leonie’s mother was a beautiful woman who loved with her entire being. She was our father’s, first love; forever sweethearts. They met at the age of 6 and were married at the immature age of 15. She was pregnant with Leonie.

She died the night, months after Leonie turned 5.  The twins’ came by accident. In some bizarre way, as my dad described to Rebecca as he pleaded with forgiveness, that he had mistakenly knocked up a random woman. She replied, “Why was your dick out of your pants in the first place?”

She forgave him as she always did. The twins came along, and I entered a year later. She mothered Kalonie and Calhoun like they had grown in her own womb.

How might you be wondering how Rebecca died? She simply just stopped breathing. She faded from the present tense.

I wasn’t my father’s favorite if, by any means, I was tied in the last place with Kalonie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 16

LAWSON

 

“There are scars on your left arm. You said they were from your brother. But I worried it was about another man you never speak of.”

I looked away and pulled my right sleeve down.

“I memorized the shape and jagged angles: force and brutality. I knew the feeling, although my scars were internal. You wore yours like a life sentencing. Someone who knew about that.”

I shifted uncomfortably away from her, pulling my shirt down, pressing down the wrinkles. Keeping the presence orderly.

“Is it Kalonie you lust after?” The change of subject needed but this turn was shocking.

“What are you talking about, ghost?”

“Your eyes, they wander. In search of something you don't have but want?”

“Yes.” They don’t wander anywhere except the empty space you rarely take next to me. It was true, her question, wanting what I don’t have.

“Who is she?” You. It’s only ever been you, Olallie.

But I don’t say that instead, I reply, “does it matter?”

“I guess it doesn't. I just was wondering who marveled you most.”

“Later, O.” Not continuing the conversation would be the easiest way to remain evasive.

“Bye, Lawson. I hope she finds you too.” Ghost girl has me all tangled in a web of worry. Does she actually want me to be happy with some chick other than her?

I wasn't in love with her; I slowly appreciated her. It was coming down as the same definition in my book.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 17

OLALLIE

 

First, a splash and then a slammed door. I peeked out my bedroom door and saw Calhoun standing there listening and watching.

An actual inner battle. Save or be saved.

He decided to walk away.

We all choose wrong decisions, out of frustration, exhaustion, or worst love.

“Kalonie, are you well?” From where I stood and where my sister's body laid stiff in the water. There weren’t many waves, and this is one time I wished the silence that surrounded me would vacate, leaving me stranded with screams.

“What did you take foolish girl?” Echoes of my voice, barely calmed my fears as I rushed in the waves and flipped her adolescent figure.

“Sweetie, I’m going to need you to come back into consciousness, please.” I brushed away her dark ombre strands. My thumbprint pressed tightly to her pulse. Barely a slap back.

I didn’t want to do it. When all I was really known for was the names of past mortals. But I couldn’t bear to sit and watch another bloodline die because of my inaccuracy.

Placing a hand of her heart and one over her head, I began to whisper. “Kalonie, come back. Kalonie, this is home. Don’t be lost, you won’t be found.” I gave my best effort to push any time of supernatural healing power into her frigid body.

She started fading fast.

Two more bumps to the chest. Kalonie’s eyes open alarmed, and she turns over, puking undigested pills.

“What the fuck is going on, Kalonie?” Knox strode with high strength toward Cal and us, cowering slowly after him.

“Dad, I mean Knox, sir. I think she’ll be okay. Maybe it was an accident. It is a possibility.” Trying to defend a girl who glowers at my very breath, why you ask? Because I grow tired of being an outcast. In weak states, just want to belong.

“Olallie, this is not the time. Kalonie, what the hell were you thinking? Who gave you all those pills? Trying to kill yourself, darling? Fun fact, you are going to have to try a lot harder than some prescription pills to off yourself. Because we, Krause’s, we don’t seem to be able to die by overdose. It would have happened to me 40 times by now. Ain’t that shitty luck.”

“Dad, that was messed up.” Calhoun stares at his sister, with panic.

“Call 911. Get an ambulance, can you do that Cal or did your boyfriend cut off your damn balls too?”

“Fuck you.”

“Awe, there’s my princess wide awake. Hello, welcome back to Earth. How was your trip to outer space?” I don’t know why he said it. But it was funny, so I laughed out loud in an entirely unfortunate snorting manner.

Giggles from my mouth bounced around the pool room, reaching back to the ears of everybody present.

“Sorry.” Clear my throat, “that was unladylike. Excuse me. I will go help Calhoun with the ambulance that you requested.”

“You may be excused. And Olallie, thank you for saving her.” Knox was broad, his surge had left him, and aware he almost lost his daughter.

“You’re welcome. I figured we couldn’t afford another loss. We are rapidly dwindling in numbers. Soon I fear we may have to convert the backyard to a cemetery.”

This time he laughed along with me.

“Was that your first joke?”

“My apologies, this is a highly inappropriate time to be making such morbid jokes.”

“She’ll be okay. She’s going far away.”

“Are you sending her to Texas? If I make a suggestion, don’t live on the 2nd-floor dormitory.”

“Kalonie has graciously earned a spot in a wilderness rehab program, congratulations.”

“Do you believe she is an addict?”

“Not that kind of rehab. Self rehab. Behavioral health and mental stability. She is going to have to do a lot of soul searching and self-reliance. It’ll be good for her.”

“Or destroy her?”

“Let’s keep things positive. Grab her some shoes and a jacket.”

“Is that all she is going to require for her stay there?”

“That’s all she’ll need.”

“How long will she be gone?”

“3 months. We will see where she is after that.”

“Sorry about her behavior towards you, Olallie.”

“How did you know?”

“Leonie told me weeks ago.”

“She tells you everything.”

“Yes, mostly.”

“The two of you are very close. Friends even.”

“Yes, probably. Leonie and your mom had a very unique relationship.”

“It seems everybody did.”

“Dad, the ambulance pulled up,” Calhoun yells from the front yard.

“Let’s get your sister some much-needed help.” But Lennox makes a grand show about helping, but Kalonie is released back into society under 24 hours.

~

“How was your weekend?” Lawson sits on a backward chair; he flipped around.

“Good, it was good. I went swimming, not on purpose. Kalonie overdosed and passed out in the pool. He told Calhoun his boyfriend should give him back his balls.” I kept spilling the details like a rainstorm, all starting with one drop and then another.

Silence. I didn’t notice it. Until I turned to see his face. Shock and anger.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t know you would want to know?”

“Of course, I would. Shit Olallie, that’s what boyfriends do.” Boyfriend? He takes me a hand, holds it. “That’s what I am here for.”

“To mop up water in the hallway?”

“To support and comfort you, anything you need.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize that it was something a person like you did.”

“Olallie baby, I will invade every picture in your memory from here on out. Your removal of me will only be the result of a lobotomy.  Remember what true love is. It can be beautiful, daring, heart-wrenching, but it will take your breath away. Your will to survive, it will take away everything you have ever wanted, but it gives you back so much more. It gives us what we need.” With that, he pulled me up and sat underneath me and flexed his arms around my chest, and I found such a warmth in the cavity of his arms that I forgot what safety I searched for.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 18

LAWSON

 

“Where is she, man?” I turn to a couple of my cousin's friends who are throwing a basketball back and forth.

“Who?” We are all out in the parking lot for a routine fire drill, I scan the faces. Nodding along, I catch Calhoun with his hands on his head. As Kalonie flings her arms in the air.

“Olallie?” Calhoun mouths her name to me with a perked eyebrow. He stands taller, looking above all the other heads.

I’m sure she is lost among the crowd. Waving my hands, telling Cal not to worry and calm his roll.

Teachers start naming off students, going through each class roll call. I try to think about dinner, my stomach grumbling for my mom’s cooking.

Guys at my shoulders start laughing at a story Verse is telling about a girl he met over the weekend. Olallie’s name gets called, I lean against my truck; waiting. Guesses and accusations fly as to who pulled the fire drill. I point at Kalonie, making a scene, shrugging with a smirk.

When another student’s name is called, someone shouts out they’re sick. The list continues. It isn’t until police cars, fire trucks, and an ambulance pulls up that everybody and their dead grandma take it seriously.

The principal runs out huffing, going to each teacher, making sure every member is accounted for. They call out Olallie’s name again, and when they can’t locate the ghost of a girl, Calhoun and Kalonie are questioned.

A careless grin loses its mojo. Pushing past everybody as I make my way over to Miss Madsen.

“So neither of you have seen her since this morning? Have either of you tried texting her?” Cal pulls out his phone as I do the same.

When the phone starts to ring, her phone is in my pocket. Gripping it harder than I should, probably cracking the screen.

“Fuck. I’ve got her phone.” Bringing it out to dangle it in the air.

“Language!” Miss Madsen screeches before hurrying off to tell the principal.

“Shit.” Calhoun actually looks worried, he better be concerned. Just because he acts like Kalonie’s little bitch, doesn’t mean he gets to ignore my girl.

“Look.” Someone points to the lab building on the other side of the campus—two seconds before I take a look at Calhoun, and we both are hauling ass to the entrance.

“Whoa! Hold up, you can’t go back in there until we get the all-clear, boys.” A teacher calls out to us. We make it through the first barricade before they stop us.

“Dude, I’ve got to get in there, my little sister is missing.”

“She probably heard the alarms and has exited. No need to worry further, we will find her.”

“She can’t hear that shit. She’s deaf, you dumbass.” Olallie’s new set of cochlear devices hadn’t arrived yet.

“Officer Conrad, is it?” I check his nametag as he pulls his radio on his shoulder, bringing Patch over to us.

“Lawson, what’s going on here? Conrad, cool the drama.”

“Sir, these two were trying to endanger themselves.”

“Olallie is still in there.”

“I’m sure she is good.” Calm, distracting me. Eyes ignite, and he rolls him, as he turns Conrad to the crowd.

“This kid of yours is causing a scene, the students will become distressed.”

“He isn’t a trouble maker, because I’m a cop and he is rebelling against his father figure. Lawson’s real daddy is locked up down the road. He can’t wait to follow in his footsteps.” Patch gives me a cocky grin.

Once they face away, I move quickly and run through the doors.

Hallways are dim, hurrying my eyes along to adjust. Think, think, damn it, why don’t I pay attention to Olallie more.

What does she have this period?

She carries books, maybe the library?

Vast big windows providing afternoon light, the whole place feels warm. She sits at a table near the back door. My breath won’t come quick enough, bending in half, wondering where all that cardio went.

All the physical activity I’ve been withstanding to keep my distance. Not that the erratic heartbeat slowed its steamroll.

A coach wouldn’t be impressed with that sprint.

Noise from the alarm fades as I hear the cutest fucking giggle, chilling my bones.

Giggles, actual damn girly giggles. A comforting sound that brings relief to the panic.

On instinct, I go to her, when I am a few feet away she senses me and turns to see why I’ve disturbed her. Olallie’s eyes focus behind me, the flashing lights warning. She jumps and knocks the chair over. Searching for her phone, I slide it on the table behind her.

No inches are separating us.

My hands support her jaw, trailing to the back of her neck. Tilting it up and angling her lips to meet hungry ones.

Must be the fear talking, I worry this is my last chance to kiss her. And if it is, I sure as hell make it burn on both of our skin.

Grabbing her against me, she lets out the smallest of squeaks. Our mouthes crash, and I lean her over the table. As she arches back, bending flat in degrees. My fingers clench my shirt as I pull it over my head.

Those iridescent blue eyes gaze with hope. My torso crawls and crowds over her space. One day I choose to break my vow against her, pulling restraints away as I kiss and caress her figure. Whispering hushed promises as I nip down her earlobe. Wondering if this time was different if I could surrender.

I know I couldn’t, but right now, I didn’t want to deceive her. Cursing myself, why today of all days, she wore jeans. Her flawless legs usually prance under knee-length dresses.

“Olallie, I can’t stay away.” We both firmly direct our words to each other’s eyes.

She brings the softest expression of understanding as her lips kiss my ears, and she says, “No one asked you to keep the distance.”

“I was protecting us.”

“No, Lawson, you were protecting you.” She leans back, unbuttons her shirt, shows me invisible scars.

The thought of getting caught briefly challenges my desire. But nothing is going to keep me from stealing a taste of fate.

~

Later, when the school has settled and the building cleared, we are back in class.

I scoot in behind Olallie, and I pull her tiny figure against my pounding chest. The teacher drones on, and the rest of our classmates sit cross-legged like elementary school children.

I twirl her hair and move it around her shoulder so I can kiss behind the ear. I love you I whisper, she giggles, even though I know she can’t hear it. It sounds like the gift of breath, weightless light that lifts my being.

It terrifies me the vulnerability I show her. Cut open deep, fish gutted, and that's what I show her. Inside the bruises, the beatings, the damn laugh I busted out when the enemy gets their face cheese grated into the cement. Because the poor suckers deserved it.

I would bleed all over this town if she asked for an ounce to serve her maker.

Goosebumps run over the speed limit underneath my jacket. Since the first time she looked my way, there wasn't any chance to escape.

“Let me take you home.” Olallie nods reading my lips

When we get to the truck, I climb in the passenger seat. I kick open the driver door and throw her the keys, the girl looks terrified and unsettled.

“Come on, ghost, we don’t want to miss Angel’s lasagna.” Giving her a laugh, but she still cradles the keys outside the door, fearful.

Her fingers start shaping words and letters, but I wave her off.

“Stop fretting. Get in, you have to drive.”

She hops in and buckles her seatbelt tight. We make it a few stops before I reach over and pry one hand off the wheel.

“Relax, baby.” I kiss her palm, and her shoulders dip a bit. And then we hit something.

She tries to get out of the truck, while still being buckled. Olallie tries to push down on the metal release, but can’t seem to find the right point. I release her and hop out to see the damage is done.

“Where did you learn to drive, Utah? Kids like you shouldn’t be given licenses until there is a thorough background check to make sure you are even legal citizens.” The man in the sports car sees me first, and as he slams, the driver door closed arms flaring wide.

“It was an accident, she’s learning how to drive. It looks like there is more damage to my hood then to your precious beamer.”

“Oh, so you speak English? Amazing, can you call your immigrant parents and tell them they are going to pay for a new car until they are in their graves.”

“Sir, we will handle this, and I don’t need my parents coming to rescue a 200-dollar scratch off your fake bumper.”

His eyes are the color gold, he must snort it daily. Olallie runs up and tries to explain with her signs.

“O, it’s all good. Wait in the car, I’ve got this handled.”

“She was driving, is she even allowed to with her condition?”

“What condition would you be referring too? I realize you being racist shrinks the opportunity to have open-minded opinions.”

“Fucking retard…” Olallie shrinks back before I can shield the insult she reads on his lips. She starts apologizing, I can take being rationed into a stereotype.

But nobody fucking puts down a girl who's lost everything. She doesn’t deserve to be punished anymore.

“Excuse me, I must have misheard you?”

“Your English not good anymore? I said she is fu—” Short temper remember?

His face meets the edge of my knuckles. Once he is down, the hits keep coming as he shields his head and body into a ball.

Shocked gasps start, and I hear sirens behind us.

I turn to see Olallie, staring, unphased by the mere violence that makes me grow taller.

Verse pulls up, a minute too late, and my cousins are close behind.

“Baby brother, get Olallie out of here.” Vayden escorts her to Verse’s car.

“He breathing?”

“Hopefully.”

“Patch is going to be pissed.”

“When is he not disappointed in his step-son?” I sit on the curb as the police officers arrive. When they get to me, I stand to turn and allowing them to slam my head on the trunk of dude’s car.

“Easy there, tiger.”

“Lawson, I’m sure your dad will be here any moment to get you out of this mess.” Officer Conrad clips on the handcuffs, extra tight pinching them.

“He’s not my dad Conrad, he’s just a guy that got my mom pregnant after they took my dad to prison.”

The man I beat upstarts yelling, claiming it was a hate crime, that he was victimized and targeted.

“Bullshit, buddy.”

Bullshit indeed. Handcuffs and booked into the county jail, not 18, so they wanted to introduce me into the juvie in the next county.

Patch didn’t like the sound of that, and when he can’t be persuasive, his best friend Knox can be.

The man ultimately let the scene go, mainly because someone caught his racial slurs on video.

The backlash was a bitch in this town. It wasn’t like they didn’t sign me up for community service. Those cells down at the station were getting more and more familiar with every offense.

Soon Patch wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of my problems. Someday I would have to face them, and hopefully, it wouldn’t be with years of my life.

 “Mom, dad, can I head over to Krause’s house?”

“Um, are you are asking?” Angel’s voice is on high alert for a lie.

“Yeah, it seemed like something a responsible young man would do.”

“Are the adults home?” Still trying to play along with my charade. 

“What?”

“It felt weird saying it out loud, let alone thinking it. it's something a responsible parent would say.”

“Do you want me to ask?”

“Yes! Please humor us how fun Patch! We finally get to act like strict parents.” She laughs, and my younger brothers join in on the joke as Patch wrestles them to the ground.

Leaving them in search of food, my mother follows me.

“She’s not perfect.” It seems light at first.

“Angel.”

“She’s going to let you down, and it will hurt her more than it ever hurts you.”

“We’ll be okay, we are starting out, we have time for the heavy stuff.”

“Yes, but don’t put that girl on a pedestal, expecting her not to fall from grace.”

“I pushed her off before she had the chance to rise.”

“Lawson? One more thing?”

“Angel, make it quick.” I’m late to meet daddy.

“Same goes for you, don’t let it define you. When you can’t take Olallie’s pain away.” Angel looked out the window, toward the hills that boxed my father’s prison. I stared at her for a minute wondering if we were ever going to be free of his lashes, free of the scars.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 19

OLALLIE

 

My slim fingers laced together. I strode forward, willing myself to believe in this pull that’s guiding me. My stomach churns from the nervous flutter, but I ignore it once I get close enough to smell the dripping blood.

The connection was clear. The heartbeat was running high as I turn down a dark alley. The only glow of light coming from my daffodil dress.

"Calhoun?" I whispered. Nothing really shocked me. It wasn't a question even if I didn't see his face, I felt his presence.

Slid my hand over his beating heart, trying to calm his growing figure.

"It's okay." I nodded to myself. I hugged him to me. I braced myself as I sat and placed his entire weight over my lap.

Red sticky liquid oozed out of him and onto the patterned sundress. His face blemished with sweet bruises.

"Come on, Cal, let's go home." Cal was a growing guy. Already at 6 feet, he towered over my small frame easily. But today wasn't about my weaknesses, today was about saving my brother from drowning.

Calhoun was sinking fast, and it wasn't water that was closing his lungs, maybe blood. But the depths he was scrapping were those of one of the more significant boundaries he was finding himself beneath hope, resurrection, and acceptance.

"Poor boy, Cal. Daddy won't like you getting the floors dirty. Sweet child, where did your trust go wrong?"

I cradled big brother in my arms like he was a weary babe. Our car was a block away, and my arms were numb by lifting his weight.

Steady, I repeated to myself. Right now, be mature for both of us.

"Olallie, always saving everybody. Always here for me. I love you, Olallie." Cal drifted in and out. His feet dragging on the sidewalk as I tried to make a way to safety.

"Of course, Cal. Where else would I be? Now hush up, you weigh a ton."

He snorted a small laugh.

"Why do you always talk like you got a southern charm?"

"My darlin' I ain't gotten the faintest idea of what you are speaking to me now?" I said with so much sway of my southern belle tone.

"My best friend, Olallie... He was my best friend. I thought I loved him so much, but I don’t think he felt what I did. Or he would have never joined in on the beat down.”

“You will heal, bruises fade.”

“Doesn’t matter, won’t be the last ass-kicking I get. Not after everybody finds out. Doubt Knox will look at me twice after what happened.”

“Did you get someone pregnant?” I ask, trying to breathe out my nose and not collapse.

“Can’t get a dude pregnant, Olallie.” Coughing onto his shoulder and more red liquid drops from his tongue.

“We’ve got to keeping moving; work through the pain.” A sigh of relief fidgets through my chest as I see the car.

"Like we always do..." He kissed my cheek as I opened the passenger door to the car.

Everything changed after that moment. I shut that door, and the whole world seemed to crash down on each of us, showing us the weakness, we were willing to part with to become healthy again.

First, heartbreaks aren’t the best to live through. Any heartbreak after that seems to dim in comparison, nothing hurts like being destroyed in the frontal view of someone who spoke those words, and you took them and placed them next to your mothers.

Each of my sisters’ a have dark brown hair. I was born with golden locks that I disagreed with daily. The same look our father and brother were designed to have as well. 

When I shut that door and wiggle my arms trying to get the life back into them after carrying my brother’s unconscious 160-pound body to the car.

Everything changed, and as I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the blonde poke through, I found myself relieved that maybe this was the start of being right.

~~

I'm awake. He's close.

My eyelids raise, and I shift my head towards the window.

Lawson waits outside.

It could be raining or below zero, and I have a feeling he would wait weeks until I came out on that ledge to hear the words he wishes to confess.

"We have a code we stand by. I’m not going to apologize. Maybe if I knew what really happened, we wouldn’t have…" Wouldn't have beat him. Wouldn't have strangled his life form. Wouldn't have ruined his self-image at the simple request or accusation of your cousin’s fib.

"I know. Before you say anymore, maybe you should reflect on why Samson accused my brother. They've been best friends for years. They've been more for a year and a half now. Since the revelation came into light that his brotherhood might be broken because he didn't fancy the female kind, he took out all his insecurities on Calhoun because he is a weak soul without a stride."

"What are you talking about more? Insecurities? Olallie, you make it sound like he was into guys or something? Like your brother and he was gay lovers or some shit. I mean, I know I would believe you if you said the sky was red and we need grape juice to cure cancer. But come on, that's unrealistic. I would have known."

"I don't think you would have. I'm not trying to get you to believe me. You ask yourself and then go ask Samson."

He nods his shaggy hair.

"What about us, Olallie? I feel broken without you. Nothing feels right anymore, like all the pieces to the puzzle are the wrong shape. I don't want to sound like a bitch here, but I need you, baby."

I softly shake my head.  But he reads my face otherwise. 

"Don't deny me?"

"I wish I had power in me, that I could. That it would be that easy. With you, things were easy. Easy to love,  to overlook,  to look beyond,  maybe even to forgive. But I will not stand by you while you were the one who stood over my brother. "

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 20

OLALLIE

 

“Tell me why we are out here in the middle of nowhere, Vayden? No offense, but I don’t entirely trust you yet?”

“Worried, I brought you out here to let the sonny boys have their way with you?” He nudges my shoulder, and I rub off the contact.

“It wouldn’t be the worse thing that has happened to me.” I look out into the fields, and in the distance, I see an old broken barn.

“O?”

“Hmm?”

“I heard about your mom.” He reached over the cab of his truck and squeezed my hand. His hand covered the span of mine, I didn’t use to sympathy. Back in Colorado or Texas, there wasn’t a time for accepting condolences. Rarely did anyone offer grievances to another.

“I was 9, we were outside, I was drawing with chalk on the sidewalk.”

“You see the whole thing?”

I nod as we pull next to other cars. Unbuckling the seatbelt as we meet in the front, ready to walk into this mistake.

“Olallie?”

“Vayden, please, let it go. It was a long time ago, no one can save her. Every day I must continue to save myself. Because she sacrificed enough for me.” I spot Kalonie’s car parked crooked taking up more space than necessary. Calhoun’s is next to hers, the engine still on, fog painting the inside of the windows.

“Hey, I didn’t bring it up to make it harder. It just looks like you could use a hug, come here.” Before I can back away, his arms are grabbing mine, lifting me high and squeezing tight.

“How long do these last?” Carefully putting my arms over his shoulders.

“Another 30 seconds, O.” His voice trembled, and I couldn’t help but feel responsible for making him sad.

“Vayden, put me down, please. We shouldn’t bring up topics, only devils recount.” I smooth his black braids down, underneath his hood.

He sets me on my feet and pulls down my skirt that hikes up my thighs. Vayden wipes his eyes with his worn sleeves, and I look toward the ground at the dust circling out feet.

“I’m sorry I don’t know how to comfort your pain. The process isn’t simple, easing away the edges.” My butt leans against the grill on the truck. “Di—Did you lose someone?”

“My cousin died when we were boys, it was the summer we both turned 12. He was in a wheelchair most of his life, his daddy was a drunk. One day I go over to his house because my aunt needed to run to the store. My dad wanted to walk with me, he didn’t trust his sister’s husband. They were always at each other’s throats.”

“Vay, you don’t have to share with me…”

“Olallie, please could you hear mine, and maybe once I can feel like someone understands, that I’m not alone.”

The problem was, he could spill, and I could nod, then I could take a turn. But suffering was a solitary sport. One I was winning medals for, long before it was my turn to pass the torch.

“Okay.” Because maybe being here will lift the weight from him.

“I tried to convince him I could go alone, I’d done it before. The more I reassured him, he got edgier and practically dragged me down the street to where they lived.” He chokes and spits on the ground, his palms gripping at his jeans.

Screeches of high pitched noise vibrate the hearing aid, and I bring one hand to cover it from continuing throughout my body. Music echoes, and I squint to make it silent.

“We didn’t get there in time, his dad was stumbling to get him into the bath. He forgot about him, and I obsess about those seconds that I wasted arguing with my dad. My dad kicked open the door, he starts shouting at my uncle. I can still hear the water running in the background, it lapping on top of itself.”

The air is thin, and I clench my fists to my chest, knowing the end of the story is one I won’t forget.

“When I get to the bathroom, it’s too late, too quiet. My dad comes up behind me and holds me back. But I try with all my might to push past him, to grab my cousin. He must have slipped, trying to get out. There was a cut on the back of his head. He could only use his arms. But there, his face floated under the faucet. Dripping onto his forehead.”

Vayden is on the ground, and I make my way to sit next to him on the muddy earth. My skirt is rotten with wrinkles and dirt.

“It’s like I’m stuck in this time loop of watching him. Knowing I can never free him of that cycle. If I would have just gone sooner if I would have agreed with him.”

“If I wasn’t playing on the sidewalk if I wasn’t born with a 60% hearing loss. If my grandparents didn’t die, if Knox didn’t get my mother pregnant. We could play what if until the moon bleeds, but it will never make a difference. The moments we were too young to understand but now want to change.”

He is lost in a world, so I tell him the one thing he wants to hear.

“It’s not your fault.”

Because blame is a game, I’ve witnessed and known how tricky the opposition is at winning. At any cost, they take measures to provide us with losing hands.

His head flicks up, our emotions meet, and it’s hard to look beyond the grief that binds us. Vayden’s tears flow, and the panic sets in, he’s breaking, and I cut open the wound.

I start shaking as I grab for him, hoping I can calm the storm, but it rages wild, without barriers. And the storm continues to rain down upon us.

“Baby brother, where are you?” We remain to cough out sobs and swallowing the next to stop the curse of feeling.

“Aye, there you guys are. Lawson was worried you two were in the back banging out introductions.” Verse slides up next to his brother.

I’ve mastered the art of covering up reactions. How to mute my emotions, making others feel comfortable around me.

“Verse, I think Vayden could use a drink or smoke.” My voice is so routine I don’t even have to blink to get through the sentence.

“Vay? You good man?” He squats down to inspect us further.

“Vayden? Haiku, what’s going on?” Vayden’s head remains between his knees, hiding his face, while Verse shakes him.

When he doesn’t rise, Verse looks to my face for help. I bite down on my lip and lean my head on Vayden’s shoulder. Footsteps approach and I should try to save him the embarrassment.

“Vayden, we all survive for a reason. You overcame a lot, you’ll overcome more. One thing that you can focus on that keeps you going. Make them proud, your cousin, my mother. If we succeed what they couldn’t, then they aren’t forgotten, they continue.” My lips tingle against the lobe of his ear. He shudders a moment, then nods.

“Olallie.” Lawson stands above me, and I reach over and place my hand over Vayden’s heart. “Verse, what the fuck is this?” His voice rages with jealous tones.

“We’re going to be okay.” I tap my fingers twice, and he finally lifts his head.

His eyes no longer swollen with remorse. The fear goes quickly, and the wind wipes away the redness. I give him a small smile, and he gives me a shy one back.

“Let’s go, Olallie.”

The outer layers of my dress are a mess with mud. I have my slip to wear, at least. The silk fabric pets my skin. Lawson reaches for me, following his command.

“My dress, I should take it off, give me a minute.” I start to unbutton the plaid dress but am stopped by a few whistles and Lawson’s hands clenching the fabric.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“Let go, or I will strip down bare. Show all your friends what gets you all testy when I come into the conversation. Wouldn’t you love that Lawson? A little competition to make the ride worthwhile.” The cloth loosens from my hold, and I smooth my palms against his beating chest.

“We’re going inside, guys.” His eyes are hot with excitement.

“Vayden, do you need anything?”

“He’s fine.” Lawson rolls his eyes at me.

“I’m a good sweetheart. I’ll be in a minute, my brother went to get me a drink.” Vayden doesn’t look at my face, instead, he pulls a drag from the lit joint and exhales smooth.

We make our way through the crowds, the place is packed with bodies I don’t recognize. The fact makes my face flash a wide grin.

“This way!” Lawson’s fingers still interlocked with mine, leading the way.

Music bounces with the beat of the dancers on the open floor. We enter a back room beyond the stage. He  leans back on the door closing it tight. I look around once and finishing unbuttoning the dress. I pull it over my head and lay it over a chair nearby.

“What is this place?” I make my way to a window.

“It’s our escape.” The place is a massive warehouse. Colorful lights litter the floor, a buffet of food is the center of attention.

“It’s amazing.” One missed note from the speakers has me tugging at my ears.

Lawson comes up behind me, his chest heaving to touch me. His hand comes up, lingers through the fabric as he brings it up high on my thigh.

“You shake every fiber that belongs to me. Somehow reacting like you hold ownership. Do you know that, Olallie? Only you, the ghost that haunts my heart. Free me, baby, set us both free.” A wet tongue circle behind my ear, a gentle kiss stops slow on my cochlear.

Lawson whispers forever.

An arm wraps itself around my ribcage, holding me so close I don’t dare take a full breath. I shiver as the tips of his fingers reach the outline of my center.

“Fuck me for admitting I need you, O.” It’s an exhausted breath that kisses my cheek.

When I turn to face him, his hands stay encircled, one shapes the rump of my cheek.

“What are you?”

“The anomaly.” Air is sucked and rationed to the partygoers below us; I tip my head up, meeting his glossy expression. In his arms, I am an electric current ready to come ablaze.

Our lips match their opponent in a slow burn. I reach higher up on my tippy toes as he lifts me to meet his height. My slip rises up, and I’m wondering if anything is a secret anymore.

“Lawson? Is Olallie in here with you?” Verse comes through and sees us intertwined in a marvel of friction.

“Yes, she’s right here.”

“Ready to start the movie?”

“Yeah, right behind you.”

He doesn’t say anything as he places me back on the ground and leads us to the hallway.

“Movie?”

“You’ll see.”

When we enter another backroom, a projector is set up, and previews begin to roll for a movie filled with bloody parts and screams.

“Olallie! O, my blue bonnet baby!” Vayden clearly found his better mood since we parted ways. He jumps down from a bunk bed. “I missed you, you’ve been gone for so long. Promise me you’ll never leave me again? Promise me? Wait for a second, are you wearing lingerie for me? Good fuck, you are so damn sexy.”

“Chill it, Vay or Lawson will crack your skull.” Verse comes up behind him, ruffling his hair with a teasing wink.

I don’t ask, I just swoop under his arms and squeeze. He laughs into my hair, and I’m so glad he is alive. Looking up into my friend’s face, he’s okay, and that is all I can ask.

“Come sit by me, I need someone to cuddle with.”

“Dude, you’ve got Brooke and Kelsey on the bed waiting for you to keep them warm.” Verse turns his brother around, as Vayden throws me his jacket.

“For your nipples, sweetie!”

I blush, not from my exposed breasts, but from the friendships I didn’t know, I was allowed to savor. A thought that makes me think of Harper and Zailey, and I wonder if their own struggles have ceased.

“What the fuck did he say about your nipples?” There’s the rage-induced man who never goes down without a fight.

“Look, we have a jacket to keep us warm.”

“I brought us a blanket, baby. You know I’ve got you, don’t you?”

“Where should we sit?” Throughout the ground, there is a plethora of bean bag seats and giant pillows.

“Here.” He plops down and brings me down on top of his lap. Lawson spreads out the blanket over us.

“You do know that I’ve got you, right?” Again the touch of his tone makes me shiver closer into him.

“Lawson, I don’t know what that means? That you’ve got me physically, sure? You want my body, I get it, you don’t have to try so hard to force everyone else away.”

“No finger fucking!” Vayden yells at the top of his lungs.

“O, you think if I just wanted to spread you and take you that I wouldn’t have wasted the energy with talking?”

“Whatever you want, Lawson, you keep it to yourself until you decide to act.”

“Day or night, I want every tonic tear. I don’t know what exactly happened in the parking lot earlier with Verse’s little brother.”

“Vayden, his name is Vayden..”

“Damnit, fine, whatever happened with Vayden. I don’t need to know. But, I’m here waiting for a chance for you to choose to trust me.”

“Why would I do that? You don’t want me, Law, you just want something to suppress the void.” The movie starts, and I try to pay attention to the lips as they open and shut.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 21

OLALLIE

 

“Harper, tell me we are looking at the same fine specimens of mankind.” Zailey pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head.

My best friends arrived a few moments ago, they stare at the driveway like it’s the yellow brick road.

They take in the sight of the parade of beautifully tanned men lining up by their muscle cars and jacked trucks.

“Careful, these boys have records.” Calhoun with his black eye grabs their bags from the car and carries them inside. Giving the handsome men a secret glance under his sunglasses.

Not caring if they try to break him in half again.

“Like criminal or juvie? I’m excellent with either!” Z hollers after him.

I stand next to them, trying to hold in my glee. Ladies, I’ve missed you. These are the Sonny boys. My hands start flying, and I guess I am too thrilled to speak. Fingers linger down as I pull the sign for missing.

“Which piece of meat is taking a long way home after leaving you at night, if you know what I mean?” Zailey’s hand coasts through a wave.

Their childish comments make me roll my eyes, but I take in every minute with them that I have. When I turn and point to Lawson, I spell out his name with confidence.

Harper and Zailey, take a few steps back. Witnessing the massive shoulders, his face pierced with the tendencies of a badass. He has the glare that says, don’t mess with me.

They visibly sound a sigh as they check the clench in his jaw, along with the sweet smolder in his midnight eyes.

“His best friend, Verse.” Finding some area to sound my voice.

“Hellloooo, Verse.” The smooth drawl from Zailey grows seduction until the end. It doesn’t help that she is right. Verse is a lengthy fool who has that Asian persuasion going on.

“God Zailey, keep it dry.” Harper’s tone is on the verge of kidding. But it only seems like she is trying to contain herself.

“Vayden, this is Verse’s little brother. He is my best friend.”

“Don’t look too little to me, honey.” Zailey again hitting a home run.

“Food, can we go eat some? Before, I literally throw up all over your paved driveway.” Harper gags and attempts to throw up.

“Did she say, brothers? Hey! Have you guys ever, tagged-team?” Zailey elbows her side, offering some of the action.

“What the actual fuck, you are disgusting?” Harper shakes her head, coping with our friend’s devious ways.

“Just because you’ve settled on riding one stick for the foreseeable future, doesn’t mean I have to be confined to missionary thoughts.” Giving us an eyeful as she licks her lips.

“Verse? Did you say his name was? If you happen to like being tied up and having your dignity stripped, Zailey here is your girl.”

“I could get into that.” Verse, who both girls try hard to look away. Don’t know what they think we are doing down here in Oklahoma, but apparently, we are doing it right.

“See no harm in flirting, the universe doesn’t know what I want until I ask.” Harper side glares, Zailey, hoping this isn’t how the trip is going to be.

It seems Z is on the prowl, and hunting season just opened.

“Is this the famous Stormy in the flesh, she is quite feisty.” Lawson tangles his arms around me. I soak up the attention because, with him, it seems to come and go.

“The one and only, but the rest of the men I play with calling me danger.” Z winks at Verse, and he growls, tempting her back.

“I hope the holy one swallows you up for that, you compulsive slut.” Harper is done with the flirtation as she drags Zailey back to the car, at least there weren’t any threats of tongues getting cut out.

We all squish into a booth at the local diner. Fried goodies arrive, and the boys dig.

“So…Lawson, where did you find our sweet innocent Olallie? Was it on the playground? She’s only 14 years old, you know, don’t be tricked.” Zailey is at it again, and Harper has lost all energy in taming her.

Harper’s shoulders are stuck between Vayden and one of Lawson’s cousin.

Grease coats my hand as I grab plenty of fries to chuck at Z’s smug face.

 “I wouldn’t say she has much innocence left.” Lawson coughs into his shoulder, and fist bumps Verse. Vayden shakes his head as we already know who won that battle.

“Showing your age, gentlemen.” The one comment Harper makes during lunch.

“Oh, dirty girl! Have you popped her cherry vessel? Has your petal been plucked? When did this happen? Wait, don’t tell me, was it in the locker room? Or under the moonlight on her balcony?” A celebration of joy boasts out of Zailey’s mouth.

Vayden leans closer to Harper as he whispers, “girl never stops talking, does she?” His lips move, and I read them carefully.

“Just wait until you get her drunk, she becomes philosophical. Wait, I forget you all are under age. None of you even know what alcohol tastes like, right?” Shoving his shoulder back to his area.

Next thing I know, the table grows silent, and I can’t help but laugh. Root beer doesn’t agree as it finds the path out of my nose, not agreeing with the laughter.

“Oh, Jesus!” Verse scatters away, jumping on someone’s lap.

“Fuck, it tingles.” My confession is so quiet I don’t even hear it on my own ears. I continue to cough a little more, bringing in new air.

“That’s what she said!”

“Vayden!” Zailey chastises him.

“Sorry, I hate myself for it. But damn it was going to happen one way or another.”

“Damn, baby. That was some extremist range.” The table literally vibrates with laughter, I think we are all grateful to be around each other at this moment.

“Where are we headed tonight?”

“We’ve got a surprise for you girls.” As the airflow clears up, I sing them my sentence.

“Great, we’re breaking someone out of jail again.” Vayden’s shoulders dip down.

“Again? Man, Harper, I think we are missing out on some fun times here. Maybe we need to relocate to a new environment.” Eyes shine bright with hope, too eager for the change. Hate to be the one to break it to her, but there is a battlefield on the home front. One, I am not winning.

“We are not moving out to Oklahoma. No offense.” Harper makes the statement.

“None taken, you’ve got to have thick blood to survive out here.” A wink reaches over to her from Verse.

“Don’t taunt her, she knows to which the degrees of hell truly burn, my friend.” Z swoops in with a victory.

“What will you do without your beloved marijuana? It’s only medical here.” Best friends start negotiating back and forth.

“I could get a prescription.”

“Because you get along with doctors so well.”

“Enough of this banter. It’s getting dark, so let’s move out.” A spark from Verse’s lips lets loose.

“Do we need to change?” Our wildfire friend asks with a hint of persuasion.

“Got anything shorter that shows off your ass?” He winks, Harper and I can only imagine this ending very badly.

“I think I do, let me look in my bag, here it is, Verse.” She flips him the bird.

“Oh, sour attitude. Won’t be getting you the good weed, I bought for this joyous occasion.”

“What flavor? Give it to me!”

“Only for a kiss?”

“Where?” Takes the bait to get her buzz.

“God, you are hopeless!” Harper’s head tips back to let the children fight over their consumption.

As if it appears to register in my nostrils, “I can smell it from here.” It’s subtle at first and almost sweet like a flower about to be born.

 “What? I can’t even smell it, baby.” A big whiff, Lawson tries to inhale the scent.

I shrug when Harper eyes me suspiciously.

“O? Olallie?” Lawson’s next to me gently tugging on my hair. I blink rapidly, trying to cover up whatever she was reading on my face.

My friends make comments to the building, looking like an old train station. We arrive, and I can feel the music vibrating from the car. Hudson’s Hook flushes with a marquee sign.

“This is your cousin's place?” Those two have been joined at the hip, Verse, and Zailey perfectly balances out each other.

“No, this is Lawson’s cousin. Most of his cousins are the Sonny Boys.” Verse shouts back to her.

The carefree vibe affecting everyone in the area.

“Sonny, boys?” Only Z would need to know all the specific details of a stranger’s life.

“Hudson, Lawson, most of the guys have a son on the end of their names. Except, his little sister, Crimsyn. We call her sin. It all started with his oldest cousin Dawson, he’s been in lock up for a couple years now. But, there is about 10-20 of them in sum.” Verse explains it better than I could have, having more information about the group of gentlemen.

“Small town trends?”

“You have no idea.”

Now I do, I have plenty of ideas. Small towns and their legacies, their languages for love. How reputations and last names rule over ethical behavior, all to support one another.

“Ladies, this is my friend Hazel.” They look her over and appraise her worth to our circle.

“Her name is jailbait!” Lawson and his cousins in unison yell over my head.

“Hello, Hazel, is the story behind the nickname as fascinating as I want it to be?” Zailey shifts around Verse, while Vayden sidesteps by Harper, making sure no one comes close enough to touch them.

“Not nearly as the obvious.” Hazel waves goodbye and goes to find her other friends.

Having Harper and Zailey close and safe makes me spin deeper into Lawson’s chest. He begins to sway, and I latch on to the amount of vulnerability he gives to me. Wishing this time, it might be enough.

Lawson hums along to the rhythm of the song next to my cheek. Slow dancing to the bodies that are dry humping the air in response.

A few feet away, Harper stops moving. Zailey asks her what’s wrong. But I can’t read the rest and the music is too loud to hear it.

Hours go by, Harper’s and Zailey’s smiles grow. I shake my head at Verse, who shrugs and enjoys the show.

Let’s head back to my house. My throat is scratchy with intent to speak. I use my hands to sign our dismissal.

Feeling the sensation of needing to pee, I halt our movements to the doors. Wait! I’ve got to use the restroom.

“I’ll go with her, might as well release the dam.” Zailey closes her hands around mine.

Laughing, it’s the only thing that comes out of my mouth. “Oh my God, have you always been this funny?” Harper must be rolling higher than I thought possible. But it is lovely to see her spirit free without restraint.

“You don’t think I’m funny when you’re not high.” Zailey makes sure to remember this when both of them are sober.

“Oh my goodness, I should. You are hilarious. Ow! My sides hurt.” Leaning to one side as the humor turns to pain for Harper.

The crowd around me is loud, and I can’t help but wonder if they all hurt like I have. Zailey goes before me, but Lawson stops and whispers in my ear.

Continuing a conversation, we had a few nights ago in the room down the hall.

“It isn’t a void, t’s a vacant spot that only you can fill. My life is good, better than most. I’m not trying to use you as some filter to escape. I love you, ghost girl, a lot. It’s hard to admit sometimes, but being with you is a reward.”

“Lawson…I can’t…” Can’t trust you, can’t trust me. Not worthy of whatever love you want to develop between us. I’m just not the girl who gets a say in having a happily ever after.

I am cursed with new beginnings, and each push back reminds me of the endings.

“Excuse me.” He lifts me up and places me out of his way as he exits.

After gaining my balance, I follow him through the winding corridor.

“Lawson?”

“I think I saw him go in there with Kalonie.” A girl with freckles and sunken eyes waves at the door at the end. I push past them with a polite thank you.

Confused, doesn’t explain the helplessness I feel.

I screwed up.

“Lawson.”

“Well, well, well, here she is. How are you doing cuddling up with your boy toy, sister?” Kalonie, cackles, and her squad mimics the same.

“Kalonie, I didn’t mean to intrude. Excuse me I was looking for—”

“Lawson? Funny, because last week he was wrapped around Yolanda and I think the week before it was you wasn’t it Anastasia? Seems you are the new flavor of the week.”

“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Stay, we have something to show you.”

Before I can question what the reveal will be, a bucket appears, and I want nothing more than to disappear into a vast emptiness like my mother did.

“What are you going to do?” Words stutter, and I really wish I could use my hands to have the time delay to ask.

But the girls under Kalonie’s control don’t answer. I don’t understand, and half of me is terrified. It’s only when my hands are shoved in the bucket do I start to realize real evil.

It burns, whatever liquid is being poured, splashes, and I try to cover my eyes with my shoulders. The smell of battery acid brings another awareness to my senses. This isn’t good, a strong odor of bleach also comes along, and I fear for the future of my interpreters.

Her clones strap my hands down harder, and the skin on my translators begin to blister.

“Stop, stop. Please, I need…don't do this…” I beg even though it goes against everything I don’t want to be right now, weak or feeble.

But they refuse my pleas, I swallow my screams, tilt my head back as the tears move to recede.

“Welcome home, baby sister.” It’s too sweet, her voice so appealing, I can understand the control it has on others.

They retreat with laughter so full I  start to consider that I may be mistaken for the events.

My head begins to sway, the smell too toxic to stop. But I remove my hands and dab them dry, as quickly as I can.

“Olallie? You in here? Jailbait has been looking for you…” Vayden peeks his head in, looking around before spotting me.

“Olallie—what happened? Oh my God, oh my God! Who did this? Why?” He crumbles, and I can’t shift much to ease his shock.

“Hospital, please.” The sturdy instruments that I’ve trained since before I could walk, now shake with uncertainty.

Lifting me without question, as my new friend Hazel comes into the room. She screams, and again I am caught off guard by the scene.

“Find my brother and Lawson. Grab my car, bring it to the front.”

We stumble out of the hallway, everyone smashing themselves against the walls trying not to get close to us.

Because what if being a victim, becomes contagious?

“What the fuck? Where is she?” Zailey runs to my side, she can’t take her eyes off my hands. The poor condition leaves us mourning.

Next thing I know, Vayden holds me tighter. Kalonie comes out in a different outfit. She looks over to us, and I swear a gleam of pride fills her eyes.

Z doesn’t miss it either.

She has my sister by the throat against the doorframe. Z punches to the gut, then knees Kalonie’s Brazilian wax. Another hand goes to her hair and tugs for good measure.

Before she can follow another blow, Kalonie’s friends are at the attack, backing her up. Harper’s focus flutters to her and me. She steps toward one girl, pinching a nerve in the shoulder, and the girl falls away silently.

~

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 22

LAWSON

 

My grin fucking grows like it’s been ignited with an electrical current.

Olallie swirls and dances around her friends from Colorado. There's a chuckle that seems honest as it comes out my chest greeting my stubborn throat.

For a minute, I feel joy, the foreign emotion making me hesitate to embrace it.

“Huh.” Verse checks out the girls and then back at me. We are on the verge of a night going down in history. Everything feels right, we are all on the same level of thinking.

“What?” Not giving him my full attention, because the blonde beauty that twirls in her Sunday best flirts with her eyes all over me.

“Nothing, just always wondered what you would look like happy. It's a nice surprise, less serial killer vibe then I first assumed. Which is a relief, considering you were worried about prison.”

“Asshole.” But the best damn friend I will ever have.

“Go get your woman or baby brother will steal her from you for good.” Verse mocks me as he shoves me to the dance floor. His arms go around Olallie’s crazed friend while Vayden shuffles next to the cool one.

But Verse was right. I felt it, the sensation was there before I could deny its alien force. It moved throughout my whole damn body, and for once, I was relieved. Not on edge watching as a girl who seemed to come from thin air made me believe in testimony for a better chance.

“Don’t forget training tomorrow.” He mouths to me, and I give him a nod.

Tickling the ends of Olallie’s curls, I bring my cheek to meet hers as I hum along to the beat of the music.

She smiles and looks eager as I am to belong somewhere. Both places are in the presence of each other.

Our lips meet, and I never want to let go. They move, and we mimic the outlines. Olallie sighs, and I want to swallow them all and keep them for the days that we can’t find any good.

As the night drags on and the girls are ready to bail. Olallie shakes her fist to use the bathroom before we leave.

Zailey pulls her along, but I pull her back. Wanting to confirm the conversation, we didn’t get to finish.

“It isn’t a void. It’s a vacant spot that only you can fill. My life is good, better than most. I’m not trying to use you as some filter to escape. I like you, ghost girl, a lot. It’s hard to admit sometimes, but being with you is a reward.” There is so much truth in the sentence I can’t help sounding exposed. Let her become awakened to me.

Olallie’s bright eyes start to shine, and with a blink, she remembers. She isolates herself from what is going on right in front of her. “Lawson…I can’t…”

Rejection.

For fuck’s sake, I had the premise that we were on the same goddamn page, walking the same fucking line. But I guess I’ve been alone on this journey and I wonder if I was repeating myself to a ghost the whole time.

I walk away.

Not caring what her explanation would be. Not in the mood to hear her scummy sorrows. Done with trying and her giving same back. Because the one time I decide to jump, she’s already decided that we’re not worth the risk.

My voice doesn’t clip at her response, even as she follows me. When I turn a corner, she doesn’t know I vanish.

And with the couple minutes to cool down, calm my butt hurt ego, I make all the desire for her vanish along with it.

“Where is she?” Who they keep asking me about, I don’t care? Keep pushing through the crowd, removing any guilt I ever had for being a dick to the girl I thought I loved.

“Lawson! Wait up! Something’s gone wrong. Kalonie messed with Olallie again.” I should be startled, there is half a thought that thinks good, I’m glad she’s in pain.

Yet, I don’t hustle as Verse yells out the window to me. I don’t run. Because she isn’t mine to save, Olallie isn’t mine to provide a happy existence to.

No, I was mistaken; she wasn’t mine at all.

“What happened?”

“Vayden and her friends are on the way to the hospital. Some crazy shit Kalonie is pulling these days. We need to lock this down, Law. Your girl is going to get hurt if she hasn’t already.” Verse tries to hurry me along to the truck.

“It’s not our problem, Verse. She ain’t my girl, bro.” The old Lawson comes over any new agreeable identity he was getting used too.

“What the fuck, Lawson? I don’t care if you are fighting or said something you didn’t like. Do you not understand? Olallie is in the fucking hospital because Kalonie is trying to ruin the poor girl. We are going to the emergency room, and I swear to fuck if you argue I will bring you in with a concussion.” He means business, and we are equal in build.

“Let’s go, pretty boy, before you are late for mommy’s curfew.” I grab a pair of sunglasses and put them on, his mouth gaped open at my behavior.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 23

OLALLIE

 

"Whose is it?" It sounds like I'm underwater, or he is because I can feel the cold air sway between my fingertips. I blink open, and the numbing buzz vibrates the area. Where am I?

"Knox?"

"Whose is it? The baby, they told me you're pregnant." I focused on his voice, I tried to place it, but it jumped and skipped. I decided to move my hands to tell him, but I realized they are bandaged in ruins. My head ached from the cochlear being ripped from my head. It wasn't the first time, but this time hurt worse.

Not by choice this time either.

When they held me down, and I didn’t scream or cry, they attempted to pour boiling hot chemicals trying to get me to cower. My nostrils burnt with scent.

I spoke and then panicked.

"My hands..." There is the nervous stutter again. How could I use my hands, my tools, words, and letters all boiled with the anger of another?

"They'll heal, Olallie." His voice was never tender, at least not towards me. The coldness he persuaded people with, I was developing one of my own.

"I know. Please excuse yourself, so I may be alone." They would heal, but not tomorrow. In weeks I would walk around head down, lost in the misery.

Maybe Kalonie was right, and I shouldn’t be here. It seemed her actions and my injuries were speaking its time.

"I want a name when I get back." Lennox moved to grab the handle and slam open the door.

Vayden and the girls were probably standing on the other side, waiting to flock to my side. If any telling of our conversation went last night, Lawson would be in the waiting room; pouting.

Bad news for Knox Krause, he wasn’t getting a name. The boy whose dark beauty had become my wonderous light. He wasn’t getting his name because it wasn’t about protecting Lawson. It was about protecting me.

A boy I was sure I loved, but could never give myself.

"I wanted to feel safe in your home Lennox. When Luna spoke about you, it was uplifting like you were making a difference in the world, in this town. I have never found that home, felt at home. And the one I was gifted, only lasted minimal years.” Breath in and out.

“The guy who did this will not be punished because, in his arms, I found a home, and inside me, we created a new one." Still staring at my hands, I wonder where the bravery comes from.

Where was it when I needed it last night? Why has it been dormant so long?

He was about to tell me that I was safe that I didn't need to worry, Kalonie wouldn't be an issue anymore. But I shook my head, and I gawked at the pain that melted the skin off my palms.

"I will never share a house with you again, Lennox. My mother was wrong about you, it's sad to know so many people are." Knox has threatened Kalonie’s castaway before.

"Kalonie will be punished. She is being sent to a reforming camp. You blame me or angry at me, it is misplaced." If I closed my eyes, I could see how, as a child, this voice would be a natural shelter.

I grew up with Lennox being a mystery, not a father figure. His affection wasn’t shared as it was to Calhoun and Leonie.

As much as I hated to place Kalonie and me as equals, we definitely were when it came to Knox having to deal with us.

"No, I blame you. You hold onto your past that you don't notice what is happening in front of you. Calhoun's gay, he got beat up, because his boyfriend’s brothers retaliated.  And me, I am 5 and half months pregnant Lennox. You didn't even notice; you couldn't have even thought it was possible. In your mind, you are probably thinking, didn’t she learn anything useful from her mother?”

I mean every word and the others I choose to keep for myself.

"So I'm a fucked up father figure, I suck at parenting. You wish your mother was here, instead of me." Exhausted with parenting or even caring at this point.

"Luna and Rebecca are never going to come back. They are gone forever. How grueling it must be to try and bring them back to life every day. Hoping they could fix your mistakes." It’s so sharp, and to the point, he physically is uncomfortable with the attack.

"Getting life advice from my 16-year-old daughter, hit a new low." Blowing out a breath of air

"I turned 17 last month." To the exact day.

"Fuck. You didn't say anything?" Now his anger grows, and it turns that I am the source.

"You didn't ask." Simple, because I wasn’t born to be a reminder of everything you failed.

"Are you punishing me? Is that why you got pregnant?" This time, I let the shield go. I dismiss my cues to back down.

"This life isn't about you. My life wasn’t about you, Luna’s life wasn’t about you. When will you realize you’re drowning in your own misery with the belief others are holding you down when it is your hands around your own throat."

The only source of warmth comes from the small window, and I stare out of it until he retreats. Others come and go, and I can’t consciously be present. I know two things for sure. Lawson doesn’t come to check my status, and it’s him I conceived a baby with. 

~

After I’m released from the hospital, I learn that Zailey spent most of the night in jail. The girls who attacked me charged her with crimes they committed themselves.

Always the victim, they try to put the punishment on everyone else, never growing strong enough to prove others wrong.

"I'm pregnant."

"That fight was some stupid teenage thing. Won’t happen again. Promise. You have my word."

Words as if they meant anything these days.

"I am pregnant."

"We can...pregnant? Like knocked up with a kid, kind of pregnant?"

My turn to give the nod.

"Holy shit! Holy Shit! I'm only 18 I can't be a dad. Oh my gosh, what about college, I have to go to college. What about work I'm going to have to work full time and go to school. 18, I'm fucking 18, and I knocked up some chick. Oh no, why am I going to do." Pacing back and forth.

"I'm 16."

"Well, we can't keep it, right? We’re both too young, right? Yeah, you can have it, and we will give it up for adoption to a couple who is ready, that can provide for a baby."

"I..I..."

"You what??? You want to keep it? Oh my gosh, you do, you're trying to trap me. I knew this would happen. I knew you were too young. What was I thinking going out with a girl like you? I mean, do you know what other people say about you? How quiet you are the way you dress like a stuck up conservative church girl. Oh my gosh, what have I done?" He pleads on the gravel driveway now.

I shift my gaze into the distance, avoiding the downpour by his many indifference towards the situation.

Lawson is standing in front of me, and there are words we need to say to each other. But the timing isn’t right, he shrugs, and I wonder if that is where we go from here into the unknown.

“Olallie! You’ve got to get back here. Something is wrong with your friend, she passed out.” Vayden runs over to us out of breath.

“Go get Leonie from the house.” Hurrying around the gate.

“Shit! She’s seizing! Damn it, ugh, shit, shit, shit!” River, Zailey’s friend, that’s a boy hovers over her as tremors conquer her body.

“Hold on, I’ll call my sister, we live down the block.” Verse pulls out his phone.

“No, Leonie’s in the house. She’ll be out in a minute.” Lawson makes a comment before I need to talk.

Leonie comes out, calm and natural speed. Pries open her mouth and shove an apple inside.

“She’ll choke!” River again yells I twitch at the vibrations in my ears.

“She’ll bite her tongue off. Stress-induced seizures. Olallie says she has medication?” All she does is put out a hand, Harper places a couple pills in it. Watching as we both wait for our friend to stop shaking.

“There we go, it’s almost over.” Leonie checks her pulse and nods her head.

“Does she have a concussion?” River’s freak out continues.

“Did she hit her head?”

“No.”

“Then, no. Do you not understand how injuries to the brain work? Do you need a demonstration?” Leonie is on point, and I can’t help but gleam at her assertiveness.

My hand goes out from underneath my chin as I flick a thank you towards her.

“You’re welcome.” My eldest sister leaves without looking back. Though as she stands, she stares at my wounds, wondering how to find the solution for that problem.

“Is she going to be okay? Should we get her into the house?” Zailey’s male acquaintance doesn’t loosen his hold on her body. His eyes fret that he might have induced this attack.

“Sure, River. Follow Olallie inside. She’s going to be fine, just a little overwhelmed.” Harper pats his shoulder to go, and they linger inside.

Let me get us some drinks. Trying not to flinch at every wrong angle, I force my fingers to be corporate.

“O, let me get them. Your hands, remember?” Lawson bends his head and kisses the top of mine.

For a second, I think there might be peace in our time to come. Maybe Lawson reset his attitude and we are whole again.

“What happened last night?” Amos tilts his head to my hands, hiding behind my back.

“She has an evil step-sister.” I tilt my head and tap my wrists, making Harper fix the statement.

“Half-sister, same thing.” Harper corrects the sentence for me.

“Your sister did this to you?” Amos, who has remained mostly levelheaded, starts to make a scene.

“She’s been bullying her, but it’s more hazing than casual,” Vayden speaks from the corner, a book in his hand.

“And you guys weren’t there to protect her, some friends.” Amos scuffs at our group, and I want to unleash some degree of wrath.

“Shaymus…” Harper tries to butt in, but it’s no use. Emotions are running hot, the tension is cutthroat.

“What do you think we do with our women exactly? You think you’re any better than the rest of us? If the stories I hear about the two of you assholes, I look like a damn saint.” A few glasses break when Lawson makes his way out of the kitchen.

“Law, maybe we should cool off. Let’s take it outside, go for a drive.” Verse tries to get him to reel himself back into sanity.

“Maybe you should listen to your pal there?” Amos stands rolls back his shoulders, ready for a fight.

Getting the broom and dustpan, as I bend to pick up the mess. Harper is there taking over the job.

“What are you doing? Now isn’t the time to defend your pride.” River eyes Zailey who is still gone from this world.

“Maybe you should listen to your pal.” Lawson stands a few feet away, and I can sense the anger rushing to his brain, ready to brawl.

Amos bumps chest with Lawson, they throw punches, then Verse and River step in, trying to break it up. We start tumbling Harper starts cussing at Amos.

My mind isn’t here, my hands still bruised with being alive. I try cleaning the shards of glass as best I can.

We leave with our tails tucked between our legs.

“Think this through, it’s not worth it.” River talks it out with Amos.

A few seconds from losing control, and we all let our shoulders drop. Harper and I try to breathe through the tension and testosterone.

Lawson snorts, and his fists let go of the hold. “Shit, O. Hey, baby girl, I’ll clean it up.” As he tries to come near me, my hands point in the opposite direction.

Dropping my hands, the wet bandages now slip from their place, and I whisper in pain as they rip open. Revealing blisters that looks like I was sacrificed to the sun. the element doing it’s best to cleanse the disobedient.

“O, shit, they’re bleeding. Hey, we need to cover those cuts. Are you in pain?” Lawson moves to come closer, I raise up my palms, blood freely flowing.

The liquid runs down my petite arms. Eyes speak, and Lawson stops in his tracks.

“Vayden, help her while I take him out back for a smoke.” Verse steers Lawson to the backyard.

“Olallie, come on careless girl. Let’s get your mess under control.” As my best friend leads me to the first aid kit in the kitchen bathroom.

Patch got Knox to dismiss the assault charges on Zailey for her retaliation on Kalonie and her friends. It was their final thanks as they boarded a plane and left me where I belonged.

~

I let my wrapped palm travel the length of the wooden banister, feeling the rhythm dance through the element. Hoping it would satisfy the peanut, welcoming the noise.

Not being strong enough to stay away as I found myself entering a room that was damning.

Kalonie was intoxicated, sweating every drip of alcohol she put in her body.

"Where's my baby sister Olallie?" Her eyes glossy as she scanned the room from her spot on the tattered couch. I took a step forward, and then I knew what came next wasn't a kind pleasantry, so I sat back in my dark corner, but my pale green maxi dress gave away my position.

"There she is! There she is! Olallie, the little angel and light of daddy's eye."

I hold my ground, it's only going to get worse.

"Does everybody know that our baby sister got herself knocked up by one of those Sonny bitches?” Audible gasps circled around us, but I kept my eyes locked on hers, they played friendly and Calhoun by her side, not stopping the flames she was burning my existence alive.

Lawson looked at me with a scowl. Calhoun taking his twin's side on all accounts, no matter the degree. Now his glare, I shifted to the ceiling.

"Which one of you was it? Pearson? Mason? Kingson? Ah, there he is the man himself, Lawson."

One thing I had to give to my sister she talked better, and with more intelligence has she drank.

Lawson, whose eyes I didn't meet as the boys around the room, hooted and hollered slapping him on the back. I could feel his eyes shift to me from the blonde he was trying to intrigue. Pity he was casting shame at me.

Verse and Vayden vacant from their usual spot next to Lawson.

"It wasn't him," I whispered.

"What did you mumble little sister?" Calhoun to the rescue.

This time my focus met his, and I couldn't drag myself from his sneer.

"I said it wasn't him. It wasn't one of the sonny boys." Out of the corner of my eye, Lawson's fist clenched around his plastic cup.

"Oh, you get around? Like mother like daughter, isn't that right 'lallie?" she winked at me and swallowed her warm beer.

I gave her an acknowledging nod and turned to exit the festive night. It wasn't anything I hadn't heard before. It wouldn't be the last time I reminded myself as they shouted out to come back. As I passed Calhoun, he struggled to reach me in time, and I shook my head.

I am alone again.

The baby in my womb and I, solitary partners.

I walked down the quiet, dim hallway to my room. I stepped outside my balcony and sat there, willing the moon to rise. My eyes clenched closed, I thought he loved me or would be able to.

"Would you return to the soiree, please? I am not in a proper mood to have company." He leaned against my open door.

"You shouldn't let her treat you like that."

"Thank you for your opinion. I will take it into consideration."

"You don't have to be polite to me, Olallie. I'm the jackass who came inside you without a condom, basically on purpose."

"Ramona is a sweet young lady."

"Whose Ramona?"

"The blonde, you were close too."

"Oh, her, yeah, not my type."

"Yes, blondes usually aren't." Saying as I began to stroke my curls as they started to frizz in the fresh air.

"No, just her."

Hmm was what I focused on as I closed my eyes.

"Why did you tell everybody that the baby wasn't mine?" There was curiosity covering a hitch of hurt.

"So, they wouldn't look at you like they look at the rest of us."

"Hey, I can handle myself. I own up to my mistakes."

Mistakes?

MISTAKES?

"See, that's the problem I am not a mistake. This baby we created is not a mistake either!" And there it was, shock crossed his face.

"The mistake was pursuing me, sleeping with the virgin sister, right? Letting me believe something might..."

"Something might what? Letting you believe what?" His voice pleaded, but I was already back in control. He squatted down in front of me, peering into me with dark brown eyes. I knew our child would most likely have.

"Please shut the door tightly as you exit, sometimes the wind catches, and it comes ajar." Lawson shook his head. Sick of my pride, my posture, or even worse, my presence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 24

LAWSON

 

School has been a horrid event that I have to continue to participate because if I don’t, Patch might arrest me for truancy.

After the hospital, Verse and Vayden go visit Olallie, and I wait outside smoking a blunt. Hoping someone picks me up for a ridiculous misdemeanor.

At least Issy would be proud.

I don’t ask how she is, they don’t ask what happened between us. I couldn’t tell them exactly, either. Because I know I overreacted, and now the guilty punches keep flying, knowing I couldn’t save her from belittling pain.

Olallie was chasing after me, and I avoided her. Even as she walks down the halls, I don’t miss the bright white gauze wrapped around her palms.

My feet take me next to her, but she doesn’t look up for anyone. My ghost girl keeps both hands connected at her waist on guard.

“Olallie,” I call out her name, wanting to stop the distance doubling every minute. She doesn’t hear me, the cochlear implants missing from their place.

Once those bright eyes were a glaring reminder of salvation in the nightmares. They remain vacant as she escapes to another realm. Silence wrapping her up, making sure no more harm can be claimed.

Getting home from school, I find my mother at her piano and Crimsyn next to her, singing practice.

My massive head hangs, hands over my knees. Don’t cry, don’t you dare cry. Weeping seems like a dream come true. I need her, desperately ache for the fact to be false.

The only hope is that it will never be.

“Remember, she’s just a white girl from a small town.” Angel’s voice starts off the cautionary tale. Seeing the heartbreak in my slumped shoulders.

“Why does that mean anything? You are a white girl from a small town.”

“I just want you to think about how it looks. How hard it was for us; I know Olallie’s father is a friend of Patch’s.” Us? Which us? Angel and Patch or the former, Angel and Issy?

“Still not following…”

“Just maybe it’s a high school crush, and you shouldn’t take it too seriously. Olallie is just a girl whose been through a lot in life, you wouldn’t want to make it harder. Would you?” My mother collects the sheet music, and Crimsyn acts annoyed at my intrusion.

“What are you saying? Why would I make it worse? How—” Then it clicks, my mother bites down on her lip, worried about my reaction. Fuck, is she going to be surprised by the outcome?

“Let me get this straight, you assume I will turn out just like my dad did?”

“Lawson—” Backtracking, this woman earns points in the category.

“Let me finish because you got to say your wild tales. Now let me share mine with you.” She stands, and I stand taller than her focusing down on her.

“Sometimes, your temper controls you, and you get out of hand.” Palms open, and the scent of vanilla hints at her lotion.

“Tell me mother, who stood in front of you for two years, taking a beating while you cowered in the corner? From the age of 6, I couldn’t bear hearing your cries anymore. I would hide Syn in the closet of my bedroom. When he went looking for something to smack around, and you’d had enough. I fucking stood in his path, so you didn’t gain another bruise.”

I pick up the flower vase on the coffee table and chuck it into the sliding door to the back yard.

“You think I have his anger issues? That isn’t what’s wrong with me, Angel. What’s wrong with me is that my own mother tried denying time and time again that our father was beating the shit out of us.” The glass shatters around me, it’s purpose magnifies.

“How could you think such horrible things about me? When all I did was save you from him? Now you fear me? When I brought Patch into our lives, I made sure we were safe. I don’t understand, I would never hurt anyone the way he did.”

A new wave of hurt flushes against my skin. Blood pumping so hard through every vein, ready to explode.

I stare up at her, arms clenched to her chest just like when I was a child. The horror she tries to blink away only makes mine fade.

A hot temper she seems so worried about has lost it’s steam. When I look her over, I don’t see the smiles she shares with Patch—happy laughter with her other sons or the soft touches between her daughter. In the corner, Crimsyn watches it play out, always on edge, waiting for the bomb to drop.

 “Maybe you didn’t realize because you were wrapped up in the fetal position trying to forget your responsibilities. But I was the one who made your demons go away when you weren’t strong enough to point them out. It’s a miracle they didn’t take you away with Issy.” My fists pound the granite countertops until my knuckles split open.

“Stop yelling at her! Why are you yelling at mom?” Our youngest brother Stetson starts smacking his fists against my leg, and I turn to bend down, grabbing his shoulders.

“Stetson, our mother is no angel. She has no wings left to fly. They kicked her out of heaven when they knew she no longer held a strong spine.”

 “Momma!” He cries and rushes to her hip.

“Lawson?” Rhett, the oldest of the two, doesn’t rush to her, he looks at my hands as they begin to bleed.

“I’m okay, buddy, don’t worry. Sorry, I shouted.” Patting his head before I decide it’s time to leave.

“Maybe she deserved it…” Rhett is on the verge of being a teenager. Weighs his options, seeing what side will survive.

“Nobody deserves anything in this family.” I grab my leather jacket and throw it over my shoulder. “I’ll be at Verse’s house.”

“Lawson, you can’t just leave. What will Patch say when he finds out?” Crimsyn tries to get me to stay, but it is a silent plea.

Always the spectator.

“Patch will say the same thing he told me when he patted me on the back at the police station when I was 8 years old. What took you so long?”

~

“You want my sister to look at that, she’s upstairs?” Verse brings me a bottle of the hard stuff to tame the pain.

“Nah, I’ve had worse. Remember 8th grade when that 10th grader was talking shit about Crimsyn’s ass. His spit got my knuckles infected.”

“Dude was nasty big! Fuck, bro, let me get you a towel. I’m sending Lyrick down to see if you need stitches.” Verse jumps up and bounds up the stairs.

I look down at my hands, and I can’t seem to lay them flat. In the basement chair, I lean my head back and wait for the feeling to return.

When my eyes finally relax and close I see her face, I even hear her giggle tempting me to let go.

“And then he laughed so hard he snorted cottage cheese out of his goddamn nose.” Baby brother’s voice booms, and her riddle of a laugh comes through clear.

“Lawson.”

I’m up and out of my chair, hands still clenched in fists standing in their way. Brooding a cloud of pissed off.

“Olallie, there a reason why you’re here?” Fuck, I can’t say I’m not happy to see her. This night is a mess, and maybe my mother was right.

“I—I was just hanging out with Vayden. We—we were…” For some reason, her words stumble, like she might be caught doing something I won’t enjoy.

“What were you doing?”

“Lawson, your hands.”

“They’ll survive.” One step forward, and she mimics it back against the wall.

“Lawson, should I go get Verse?” Vayden gulps down a strange breath as his eyes ping pong back and forth.

“Yeah, you probably should.” As I smear a streak of fresh blood down Olallie’s cheek.

As he hustles upstairs, we are left with the soundtrack of nervous beats.

I think I loved the way the wicked plays games with the righteous. I understand what my mother was talking about when she referred to the difference between Olallie and me.

How pure she was and how I struck out when I was born with the genes of narcist. But it wouldn't stop me.

Even if it hurt her, and killed me. I would have her because she wasn't a thing I won. She was the future I always lusted after. We were going to make an impossible idea our reality.

All because I couldn't pull out once I viewed her soul, and she spoke things I never heard verbally. Connected into depths where silence was a haven, and our emotions were powerful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 25

OLALLIE

 

Lawson is a foot and a half taller than me, he looks down on me. One of his wrecked hands grasps mine. He leans forward, kissing the side of my head on my temple. 

"One day, I thought I'd love you." He breathed in my ear the final goodbye.

A tear streamed down the opposite side of my face. Revealing how much those words were valid and yet hurtful at the same time.

“You let a stranger touch you seriously? When every time I come near you, it's like tempting a skittish rabbit.” He sees the crescent moons curled with ink on my freshly inked bicep. Lennox’s friend gave it as a gift. His chest matching a similar design of the moon.

It was a stupid idea to get this tattoo while being so far along, but Lennox didn’t seem a problem. Part of me didn’t care anymore.

“It's for Luna.” There is a significant part of me that shrinks every time his voice echoes to a frequency I’m not comfortable with.

My hands still sore and swollen, but I force myself to be present with Vayden as much as he would allow. Leaving Knox’s house out of mind.

Harper and Zailey went back home after their boyfriends came to save the day. I wondered if one day I would have a love that would keep me safe too.

“Well then it all makes sense now, she used to love strangers touching her, looks like you finally have something in common with your dead momma.” Ghosts, they fog my vision, and I see all the familiar faces.

What would Luna do?

My hand raises before I can take it back. A slap across one cheek length, and then when he whiplashes back to face me, I made sure his other side was just as sore.

Hands quake from the vibrations, it stings, but I don’t care. These types of wounds never bleed for long. The assault doesn’t even phase him.

“How fucking crazy am I to think I was in love with you. That you would be the one I spoke those words too. I believed it would be your eyes I would stare into as I uttered such a stupid confession.”

“I told you it wouldn’t be true.”

“You are the epitome of what everyone says. Too innocent to touch, to virgin to be made unclean. What rumors your sister spills about your teenage whore of a mother.”

“She wasn’t a whore.”

“She wasn’t?”

“My father. He would be classified as such. He got 3 different women pregnant within 5 years. Resulting in 4 offspring, that we know.”

“Point is pretty girl, you aren’t my one, and I think I finally realized its time to stop chasing the unattainable.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 26

LAWSON

 

“So, was that your girlfriend? Who was with Vayden earlier?” Lyrick wipes down my knuckles.

“Nope. We go to the same high school, just like everybody else in this town.” I let out a low whistle as she straightens my fingers.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not much.” Not as much as watching those blue eyes haunt my goodbye.

“Will your mom and Patch be worried?” She blows on my knuckles, drying them before wrapping them.

“Angel? No, after what she said, I’m sure that she knows.”

“Why do you call her angel?” Lyrick rubs my palm

“Because that’s her name.”

“But she’s your mom.”

“It's what he used to call her.” The thought of my father usually brings unsettled aggression. Now with a new light shining, one I guess I share.

He called her a lot of things, some nasty, some oddly affectionate. But, when he said her name, she listened. In some twisted way, I wanted that power of her. I wanted her to remember that she wasn’t free. Angel was in hell because that is where I remained stuck.

“You back in your old bedroom?” Lyrick leans forward, and I’m caught in a trance. Who I thought I could be with Olallie, and what destiny has planned for me?

But when I come back to reality, it’s dark brown eyes that face me, and I know my mother was right about me. Did I try to deny becoming a man like my step-dad Patch, loyal and upstanding? As best as I could.

“Yeah, Lyrick. Give me a minute to shower, and I’ll be there.” It wouldn’t be the first time we fooled around or fucked.

I guess it’s not the last time either.

~

Hiding out in Verse’s basement doesn’t last too long. Patch arrives, with flashing police lights. The dramatics he loves to make a point.

He hauls my ass in the back seat, drives to the edge of town, and then lays into me.

“What do you want me to say?” My hands in my pockets, several shrugs in my shoulders.

“Your brothers saw that shit you pulled with your mother! Is that how you want them to grow up and treat women? Huh, Lawson? Apparently, you took notes on what it was like to be a real man from your dad.” He huffs and puffs, walking back and forth.

I take my time responding, doing my best not to irritate him more.

“He’s not my dad.” It’s the best I can come up with—my thoughts on Olallie’s hands and how cruel I was to her.

“Really? Because no son of mine would dare talk down to a woman, let alone his mother that way.”

“She was wrong about Olallie and me.” I was wrong, I’m still wrong for doubting her, not giving her a chance to breathe.

“She is a woman! Angel will always be wrong, even if she thinks she knows best. But you don’t tell her that, especially not to her face!” Patch slumps down the car door, and we both sit with our asses on dirt.

“What now?”

“Get the beers from the trunk.” I do, and we sit and watch the sunset over our town.

My eyes trained on the lights at the Krause residence.

“She’ll forgive you.”

“She’s my mom, it’s an obligation.”

“No, the girl that Angel was trying to dissuade you from.”

Not wanting to think about it too much, I take another swig of my drink and look over the trees at a different world.

“Where is Olallie?” As I walk through the front door, I am greeted with Kalonie and her trio. Patch dropped me off and told me to come home once I sobered up.

“She’s a little under the weather, Lawson. Maybe you should come back in a few days.” Kalonie’s arrogant tone, makes me almost revolt. There is a small hunch that something is wrong, and it only confirms when Jailbait walks up behind them, her face in horror, tears swelling in her eyes.

Scissors in one hand dripping with bright red blood and blonde hair in the other.

“What the fuck did you do, Jailbait? Olallie was your goddamn friend!”

“I’m sorry I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”

But I rush to the pool, searching the area as I make my way to the opening.

Olallie’s head is cast down, a body cramped in the corner. Her first reaction to finding safety. One side of her hair is cut off. Thin bandages still stick to her hands, blistered by the chemical burns.

The wind whips against the windows, even the pool water continues to slosh by previous movements. Other than the swish of the noise, the room remains silent.

Small wet footprints are scattered on the floor, trying to gain balance. The floor slick as she scurried too scared to be calm. Endless eerie static fill the air, ones I notice as I creep towards her, unsure what I will find.

“Don’t. Please, don’t touch me.” A voice is torn, ripped apart and stomped.

“O, baby, I didn’t know.” I reach my fingers out to hold her, instinct takes over again, and I want to protect her from her beating.

A slap is unexpected, but it snaps my head back, and I understand her defense.

“Stop it, please. I am only trying to help you.” Don’t yell at her, calm yourself Lawson.

Who knows what trauma she has faced?

My body hovers over hers, she kicks my stomach, wanting her distance. I go flying back, stumbling until I clash against the surface of the water.

When I reach back to the top, I take a deep breath, spit out the water.

“Fuck! Olallie, what the hell was that about?”

But when the chlorine water clears from my vision, I blink to find she isn’t there wilting in the corner wanting to be crushed.

The side door banging closed, she’s lost in the coming storm, and I miss her in the chaos.

Out she goes, running to save herself. Knowing I can’t help anymore to sway the bullies away from their beatings.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 27

OLALLIE

 

After Vayden drops me off, I assumed the coast was clear. Kalonie’s car was gone, and Calhoun’s seemed to be missing.

But I guess there was one last shred of hope that thought I could get away from this place without too many scars.

Hate grows as my conclusions remain invalid.

“Welcome home, little sister.” Kalonie is there in front of me again. I wonder when the last time I was able to breathe.

No speech makes her stop. Not a single confused look to her friends and Hazel, who I thought was my friend. She stands in the corner, scared as I am.

Fear quickly leaves me, I accept the fact I’m not in control of their actions.

It happens swiftly, chunks of hair snipped away from my head fall to my feet. My knees buckle as they are forced to kneel. Eyes still swollen with a lasting pain in my fingertips.

Kalonie goes on with her speech about justice. But I tune out the evidence that she could be right and I could survive. There is only so much to give before you become empty.

I want to tell her she’s won; I forfeit. Then I remember the body growing inside of mine, and any defiance will cause more harm than good.

The front door snaps open, and they scatter, flinging me to the edge of the pool, leaving me to drown if I wanted. My sides jam against the barrier and I suck in a breath as it knocks me over.

Lawson is in front of me now as I hide in the corner. He talks and tempts to touch me, but I refuse.

No one is going to know I’m not strong enough to survive. For that and other comments too honest to confess, I want to apologize.

Instead, I flee the scene of my most recent attack.

Numb.

A gust comes at me, and I turn my head away, feeling slapped again. At least this one doesn’t drag her claws along my cheeks, creating more scars.

Tiny movements rummage below my tummy. I tell myself it’s bodily expressions, not the baby moving. The baby began to dance, and it was a language I could communicate with. It was our secret code of touches and taps.

I collapse, frightened and panicked. My feet break under pressure to continue. Leaning against a stone wall, hoping I won’t be found.

My mind tries not to cringe at the dirt stains on my dress, how untidy and unkept. I think back to the messy room I had once again at the boarding school.

Miss Callie from the Texas boarding school made sure to entrust shame upon me for a week. It worked like a southern punishment charm.

The stone blockade is a barrier for the prisoners who live across the force field. I wonder if they have similar punishable occurrences if brutality is surpassed physically or mentally?

The mind makes you indifferent to pain. Because too soon, when you try to avoid it, you eventually become its purpose.

Not afraid anymore, just numb.

“It’s a girl, none responsive. Minor injuries to her feet and legs looks like there is bleeding to her head.” A man crunches his boots as he attempts to get closer to examine me.

Blue eyes remain clouded by the dark shadows. I don’t open them or make any confirmation of life.

My left ear strikes sore from the noise, my CI dangles, and I wonder if it’s better this way. The world must not want me to belong to it.

Today, I don’t argue. This time, I nod, accepting the indifference.

“Bring her to the clinic to get cleaned up, we’ll call it into the station.” Static comes from his radio, he bends down to pick me up.

Act dead, because maybe that would be easier.

Fight, my body tells me. Kick, scream, survive. But I give in to the stranger’s arms around me, he continues to argue with his partner.

Not willing to open my eyes, they ache, it doesn’t matter where they take me to safety or to sell me for gain.

I’ve lost hope.

“Put her on the bed across the room. Sorry, I thought I would have finished with the physicals before you arrived.” A nurse or doctor makes a comment, her voice soft.

“Oh, Knox must be bringing Christmas early this year.” Some man claps his hands together while they place me on the examination table.

“Easy there, Uncle Issy. Doubt your wife would appreciate that banter.” A younger male soothes the room with positive energy.

“Keep your pretty boy mouth shut.”

“Neither of you talk to her.” One of the guards yells at them.

“Who’s next?” The nurse calls.

“Darlin’, you know it’s me! Been waiting all damn day for some alone time with you.” This man sounds older like he’s been locked away for some time. It’s hard with badgered regret.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Issy. Or we’ll put you back in the hole, and I’ll have Martin do your exam.”

“See ya, kid.” The door closes, the guards seem to step out with the doctor.

Now I am alone with another inmate.

Fear never comes.

When the room falls silent, I blink open my eyes, wondering why my right implant still works. I reach up to detach both fully, but I stop when I hear the young man’s voice vibrate across the room to me.

“You alright, girl?”

One nod.

“You’re bleeding.”

Always, I want to say, but I only shrug.

“Must be scary for you to be in here.” I blink over to where he sits, one hand handcuffed to the metal bar under the bench.

He has a sharp-edged jawline like a boy I thought I once loved. Remembering vividly how much I begged to love me. When I trail my eyes up and meet his. It connects to close to where I ran from, and I drag them away, wanting to evade.

Shaking my head no, I’m not scared.

His cream uniform doesn’t look too alarming. The facial expressions don’t have evil etched into them.

“Oh good, you’re awake! Is there someone you want us to call?” The guards poke their heads through the door, coming back to focus on the strange girl they found.

Nope.

“Can you tell us your name? Then we can find your parents?” Another question and I want to shake my head. Not wanting to be recalled as someone significant.

But I don’t recoil, I resist caving in on myself as I speak.

“Olallie Lovett.”

Before they comment back, Patch waltz’s into the room with a guy in street clothes. The guy with shadowy skin and braids down his back gives the nod to the other inmate.

“Sit down and shut up! Not my problem, you decided to run.” Patch hollers at him, as his perp is handcuffed to the bench: a bloody nose flows freely.

“Maroon? What are you doing back in here again? Issy get on your nerves again?”

“What do you think about Patch? Come to save the day? Tell me, were you always the hero or only after Issy was out of the picture?”

“Your uncle continues to get you into a lot of trouble, son.”

“Maybe your fatherly talks work on your adopted son. But I’m too old for you to try and win me over.” His hair angles just below his eye, and I see how destructive his life has been.

“Olallie? What the hell you doing here?” His voice is scared, looking around the room. Like maybe the men in front of us had something to do with it.

He rushes to my side, and I hesitate, hoping I don’t flinch.

“What happened? Did they touch you?” He doesn’t physically confirm, just the heat from my aura, flaring red.

“Not my specialty.” Maroon? Is that what Patch called him earlier.

“Did someone call Knox?”

I know his words are aimed at me, but my answer is targeted to the hazardous waste.

Hold it together.

“Why would Knox care about some girl they found by the wall?”

“It’s his daughter, you dumbass.”

Maroon sticks his back to the wall, backing away from me.

“Please, do not call him. I will leave.” My hand goes to cover my hair—memories of my mother’s fingers running through the strands. Length went, mom gone, memories wash away with the renewal.

Soothing my frizzy curls down. Tears beg to fall, bargain with the angels for release.

But I make a compromise, not fully satisfied with drowning yet. It doesn’t matter who these strangers are, they don’t own my pride.

And when I cry, they will not own my weakness either.

“Olallie, are you hurt? What happened to your hair?”

“She’s fine.” The inmate comments on my behalf.

“Dawson shut it.” Maroon, Dawson, whoever bites his cheek.

“Let me call Angel, she can help.” Patch brings out his cell phone and then notices my reaction.

“Is that okay?”

Another nod.

He finishes quickly with a small I love you, I wonder how easily their love is. If it has always been easy or there were times if giving up was a better idea than fighting the odds?

“I’ve got to finish processing this guy into the system. Are you okay for another 15 minutes?”

“Yes.”

Patch’s light brown eyes look over his shoulder, worried about leaving me alone in the room with an inmate.

“He won’t hurt you. He is in here because he is a dumbass, not because he murdered someone.”

“Whoa, low blow.” Acting wounded by the snide remark. He follows Patch as he takes the other guy out the door with him. As the door clicks, his eyes snap back to me.

“So, you know, Leonie?” Her name on his lips cuts out halfway through asking.

“Yes, she’s my sister. Half-sister, I guess, is the correct term.” My bare feet kiss down on the clean tile floors as I hop off the bed.

My few steps of walking get me to the bench where he sits. He looks terrified at me. I would blush in my normal state of mind, but I’ve lost all decency.

“Is she good to you?” A whisper of worry evades as Maroon asks. I would pry, wondering what their connection is or was. But I don’t have the energy to search beneath the blockade.

“This was Kalonie. Have you met her?”

Nods again.

Blinking seems to exhaust me, and I feel sleepy. Like when I was a child, ready for bedtime, missing the comfort of my bed.

I lay my head down on Maroon’s knee, and he hesitates, nervous I’m trying to get him in trouble. But I don’t tell him I don’t have those type of connections.

His digits tap the bench, before strolling them through my long side of hair. Soon the length will be gone, level with the other.

“Do you know Patch’s son, Lawson?” A deep tone speaks to me, and I wonder what the rumble would feel like. A voice was strong and brave. Unwavering by intimidation and fear.

One hand wraps down over my belly, protecting the soul created in heated moments and trusted secret. My eyes try to flush out the embarrassment I feel when I see him looking at me like he doesn’t know.

As though I too am beneath him.

“Yes.” I say, “I know him very well.”

“Oh shit, he didn’t.” A few gulps later, and he acts terrified. Maybe it’s the idea of Lawson becoming a father. Or perhaps it’s because he worries about his own reputation with a similiar title.

~

Sitting in the passenger seat of Patch’s car, we pass the gate leading up to my father’s house.

He slows, giving me the option to be dropped off. But I don’t even shift toward the place. There is nothing there for someone who holds the last name, Lovett.

I miss my mother.

I miss my grandparents, who hated my mother. I miss Zailey and her hate for humanity, and I miss Harper, who hates herself.

I miss Asher, who never hated me.

“Could I borrow your phone for a moment?”

Patch finds it and unlocks it before handing it to me.

I dial from memory, hoping both girls will be together. Make this call quick, a rescue near.

“Um…hello? I don’t know who it is River. It has Oklahoma area code, get off my dick, bro.” Her voice is immediately comforting. “Hello?”

“Z, it’s O. SOS.”

“Shut the fuck up you Neanderthals, it’s Olallie.” She moves around to get to a quieter location.

“What did you say, baby O?”

“SOS. SOS. SOS.”

I am met with silence. Zailey knows the code, we all do. A final plea, the worst of worst has happened. We are reaching out a hand to be saved.

“Zailey, what’s wrong?” Harper’s voice comes clearer in the distance.

“SOS, Harp.” Zailey’s tone is gone from sarcastic to devasted.

“Give me the phone, Z.” An exchange between shuffled hands. “Halo, where’s the fire?”

“No, fire. Just ashes.” Too true, but the only thing to confirm.

“We’ll be there by morning.” Harper hesitates, I count the seconds of her breath.

“Calico, what’s going on?” Shaymus yells from the other end.

She doesn’t reply to him, instead, she must cup her palm around the phone. “Halo, don’t drift until we get to you. Promise?”

It’s hard to agree to this, I think about promising. Wondering if the past few hours were any indication of survival skills. I think about my mother and her obligations.

“Panda Promise.”

Not knowing how to close the phone up, I place it in the console between us. Patch stares over at me like he is trying to figure out who I am.

“Luna—”

“Please, not now…” My head weighs down again. Shame filters at her name, and I wish to belong to the brighter side of how she saw me.

Something golden, something appreciated.

We arrive at their house, pull into the driveway. Right away, I notice Lawson’s truck is vacant.

“Olallie, don’t tell Angel you saw Lawson’s dad while you were in there.”

This time I pitch my eyebrows together, confused who Lawson’s dad could have been. But before I approach the subject, he is pulling out of the residence back to the prison gates.

“Oh, darling, what on God’s green earth happened to your beautiful locks?” Angel, Lawson’s mother, comes to touch me, but I lean back.

Her pink lips purse, and she waves me inside toward the living room. Pointing to a chair in the middle, a live stage parading the finale.

“Olallie, right? That is quite a unique name. Fits a pretty girl like yourself. Would you like to look at some pictures of hair lengths and styles?” The pink phone is shoved in my face, attempting to share her ideas.

The edge of my palm aligns above my chin. The slice there from before breaks open, and it stings like hungry hornets. Warm fresh blood seeps carefully over my fingers.

I wipe it on the seam of my dress, already accepting its ruin. Without permission, Lawson’s mother tilts my head, cleaning the wounds so gentle and precise.

A sizzle I imagine appears, each time she connects her skin with my tainted attire. A compress covers the injury. 

Angel begins to spray my hair with a water bottle, combing through it, getting it even. Each slice of the scissors cuts off another layer of who I thought I was. The new girl, the weak girl, the outcast, the deaf girl. The abandoned daughter, the orphaned daughter, the bullied, the scared.

Another thing I’m not anymore.

Innocent, brave, happy.

Maybe Knox was right, keeping me away from this life. It is possible he knew that I couldn’t survive the harsh climate. Not knowing how to escape the way Luna had.

Asher, where did you go? Luna, why did you leave? Spelling out his name, the question lingers before it disappears, just like he did from my life.

My mother’s question doesn’t need an answer. It was inevitable.

“What was that, honey? Don’t move almost finished.”

“Nothing.”

“I forgot you did that thing, talking with your hands or whatever.” Snip, slice, again, the hits keep coming.

Patch’s wife seems prissy, her and Miss Callie would get along swimmingly.

By the way, that thing I do with my hands, it’s called communicating.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 28

LAWSON

 

Park my truck on the side of the driveway. Mostly, because I don’t want Syn throwing a fit, she got blocked in.

I slam my hands on the steering wheel, wondering where the fuck she went. Congratulating myself on screwing her over, at this rate, I’ll be sharing a cell with my dad.

Giving no fucks about anybody.

My keys swirl in the dish by the door as I slam it behind me. Jeans are heavy and stuck too tight to my legs. I worry my balls are bruised.

“Angel, I’m home.”

“Hi, honey. Why don’t you come in here and talk to me for a minute?” She sounds eager, and her voice is higher than usual.

Avoid her happy mood, so you don’t destroy the joyous day she is having.

“Gotta shower, be up in a bit.” The basement door closes before I hear her response. I’m sure she has one, she always does.

Take my time scrubbing grass, dirt, animal shit. Ugh, following Olallie through the woods wasn’t the best idea.

Fuck, don’t even know what direction the girl ran off toward. Called Verse to come help, another dead end. Vayden hasn’t heard from her, Calhoun didn’t answer, probably doesn’t care. Not his problem, now that he has a new life.

Hunting down Kalonie could only result in 1st-degree murder at this point. Maybe Syn has heard some gossip. Or I can have Vayden locate Jailbait to get some more answers.

Getting dressed seems like a useless effort, so I forget the shirt and go search for food.

One towel in my hand, drying off from the shower as I head into the kitchen. The windows quake from the rainstorm that pounds it’s fist, wanting attention.

“Angel, do you know where Syn is?” Grabbing the gallon of milk and taking big gulps.

“Think she is at her friend’s house. Why?” Angel’s voice is a frequency below alarming.

Another swift slide between blades and I see pearly locks bounce off the floor. I see a tear drop into Olallie’s open lifelines, catching each one, losing her dignity, her identity.

I sit on the couch in front of her, waiting.

“Would have appreciated a phone call, Angel.”

“Thought Patch already called you, and that’s why you came home.” She meets my eyes, wondering what the big deal is.

Patch, the bastard.

My eyes never leave her fallen face. When the trimming is complete, those puddles in her care, turn over and soak into her dress.

“There you go, all done. Here take a look!” Angel tries to put the mirror up to Olallie, but she pushes it down. I see the struggle in my strict manners mother, as she debates arguing.

“Is there a bathroom?” Voice trampled on, comes to join us.

“I’ll take her.” Putting a small push toward the basement, she follows my lead.

“You’re welcome,” Angel mutters under her breath, so low. I am sure I am the only one that can hear.

“Angel!” I scold her because she doesn’t know shit.

Her assumptions are wrong.

“Sorry.” She mumbles as she sweeps up the pieces of hair on the ground.

“This way.” We turn down the steps and follow the hallway until we get to my room. She goes into the conjoined bathroom that I share with Crimsyn.

Olallie shuts the door. I stand there, guarding it against anything and everyone. Maybe even herself.

The shower starts, and I put my grip on the bathroom knob, ready to engage. Equipped to barge in, break the shower door, because it is one more barrier between us.

Flex out my grip, and I take a few steps back to the edge of the bed. Focused on charging in at any second. The door squeaks open, and steam floats around my ghost girl.

The tangled dress clings to her tiny figure, every other part of her is flawless. Even the short hair makes me want to reach out and know she isn’t a dream.

Olallie comes closer but stops in front of me. I spread arms, welcoming her, inviting her to find comfort. She moves aside and points to the bed.

“Knock yourself out.” Clenching my jaw down and teeth so hard, they snap when I think about the abuse on her body. What about the baby? Should I demand we go to the hospital to make sure both will make it through another night?

A text vibrates in my pants from Verse: You find her?

She’s with me, I’ve got her. Texting him back. Worrying the last three words might be a lie.

How is she? Baby brother’s text comes instantly.

Broken. Is the only reply, I think, will satisfy them, a truth too harsh to accept.

Turn to see her lying beneath the covers her head dripping puddles into the pillow. It occurs to me, she didn’t use a towel to dry herself.

“Ghost, let me get you some of Syn’s clothes to wear.” The bed slightly creaks from the release of my weight as I get up.

“No, Lawson. Yours will do.” Still not facing me or reality. Going to my drawers, I pull out a football jersey and some shorts with a tie string.

For a few seconds, I get lost watching her, holding herself together. Talking herself through whatever occurred last night. I start thinking about how much I would love to keep her safe.

My breath is stolen from my lungs as I envision a future where we are right for each other and not a risk. No doubt can get in between the cracks. There isn’t any when you belong to someone who trusts you. Works with you and uplifts.

“Can you help me?” Nearly swallowing my tongue as she asks. Race over, and I glide the zipper down her spine.

No bras, no panties.

This isn’t the time to be aroused. The damaged cloth falls to the floor, I don’t move even though it lands on my foot. Enduring any suffering even if it relieves microscopic amounts of Olallie’s punishment.

“Here, put your arms up.”

Instead, she turns facing me. Challenge in those bright blue eyes as she raises her elbows high.

“Fuck, I’m sorry for what I’m about to do.” I drop the clothes in my grip and replace the hold with Olallie’s being.

We move closer until she pulls me on the bed. Fingertips sense every curve on my chest and abs, I keep kissing her.

I will never get enough.

Olallie locks her legs around my waist, and I do my best to wiggle out of my shorts.

A second of hesitation, that awful doubt crawls in, asking questions.

Should I ask for consent? Does she even want to have sex with me anymore? Should I get a condom?

Fuck, I guess the last one doesn’t matter at this point. Already knocked her up.

“We don’t have to, it’s okay.” Those fingertips caress my cheek as I kiss into it, accepting her comfort.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” I can see some purple and blue areas appear on her skin. Internally I hope no damage was done, especially to the baby.

“Too late.” She replies, and I think my heart finally breaks.

“I’m sorry. So sorry for every awful look, temperamental word. Fuck, ghost girl I’m an idiot when it comes to loving you.” Because I am for every day, I pushed her away. All the moments I wasted looking beyond her, trying to see anything else.

Sorry for the hurt I caused her, making her feel isolated, alone. Knowing damn well, I was a contestant in proving her belief of being inferior. Mostly, I’m sorry for thinking I didn’t love her.

“I should probably go. I will see you around, Lawson. Stay safe.” Those soft shaped lips kiss at my neck, and I shake my head no.

“Oh, right.” A little laugh leaves her mouth. “Forgot for a second, I wasn’t an embarrassment to you, to Knox, to Kalonie.” It feels so sad, her confession.

All I do is shake my head, not knowing how to make it better or blend the shattered pieces.

“No, please stay here with me.” My hands find hers, a magnet to one another.

“Lawson, it’s probably for the best. I have to go home, Knox will be waiting.” I don’t know why she lies, but she does.

“I love you.” Hoping that is enough to make her stay. But her hands retreat, and she stares at me until I look at her.

“Thank you.” A thin bottom lip begins to wobble as she covers her mouth. Bandages that are murky need changing, but she begins to cry. “Nobody has said that to me since my mom died. I didn’t know I could be loved.”

I pull her under my arm and tighten my grip on her naked torso. Getting so close that it leaves no room for feeling empty.

I keep kissing her head, sensing how busted she has become. I was so careless with her. It’s then I begin to shake, and I am seconds away from losing my cool. Man card be damned because I am wounded, and I never want to heal if she can’t ever feel new.

“Let me show you.” I pick her up, and her eyes are always so curious and trusting.

My hand cradles her as I place her down on the sheets. It lingers down her back, and I nestle myself between her thighs. I take a catalog of her body, her belly the only difference from the last time I saw her naked.

I kiss, caress her sore neck. The tainted colored ribs. Tips of her toes fractured by the wilderness.

When our lips reconnect, I am slow and steady, leading her from this mindset to a better one. My fingers dangle down that precious tummy toward her core.

“Olallie…” I moan, as I place fingers on her lips. Massaging the intimate skin, sliding in and out. Before I hover over, look into her eyes, and push my way into her home.

“Law…” A shift as her body arches, and that sweet voice, aches for more. We continue to move, as one, as two. Both witnessing and unraveling until there is nothing left to recover.

After we clean up I pull the jersey gently over her head, she snuggles her cute bare bum against me. An arm going under her neck and the other over her stomach. Protecting her and our child.

“What do you want me to do with your dress? Angel, could get it dry cleaned.” Kiss to temple, not wanting to fall asleep.

“No, you can throw it away. I won’t need it where I’m going.” She sighs and finds my hands to hold onto.

“Where are you going?” Worried, I missed something.

“Nowhere.” A timid sleepy rhythm falls from her lips as her eyes close.

Bringing us closer and pulling the blanket up around us. I start to lose the orgasm high—panic sets in, wondering what will happen tomorrow.

Will I lose her for good?

“Rest, Lawson, rest.” My lovely ghost haunts me with her words, as she tempts me to fall asleep wrapped in courage.

~

“O, baby. Can you shut the blinds it’s too bright?” I roll away from the window. But I don’t hear anything, I slap my hand to the other side of the bed.

My hand hits nothing but the sheets.

“Olallie?”

Crimsyn moves about in the bathroom and goes back to her bedroom.

“Syn, where’s Olallie?” Sitting up in bed, remembering I don’t have any shorts on. So I stay seated under the covers.

“Haven’t seen her.” Apply lip gloss with a pop of her lips.

“Syn, would you be a good little sister and go check upstairs?”

She turns around and stomps out of the bathroom, goes to the bottom of the stairs and yells.

“MOM IS LAWSON’S GIRLFRIEND UP THERE?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Again, there is a defense. Not wanting to be connected to her.

God, I really am an asshole.

“Good hell, Crimsyn, wake up the whole neighborhood. No, I haven’t seen the girl since last night. Not so much as a thank you either.” Angel seems to be in a mood, hope my little brothers are behaving themselves.

“Sorry, Law, looks like she skedaddled.” Going back to the mirror, she kicks my door shut. I jump in my shorts and find my phone.

No new messages.

Pulling up the last text I sent her last week.

I can’t have that kid, it’s not mine.

Olallie’s reply, a simple okay.

“FUCK…you are a goddamn selfish idiot!”

“Been telling mom that for years.” Sister Syn screams through the barrier.

“Syn, shut up!”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 29

OLALLIE

 

The morning sunrises, poking me in swollen eyes. My hungry stomach grumbles for substance. The little nugget begins to shift, and I hold my breath, hoping Lawson isn’t awoken.

“Olallie, baby.” He calls me from his dreams, my name remaining on his lips. Maybe in another generation, I would have been honored with being that woman.

Lawson’s hand still holding me, I rearrange its position to be over the bundle of energy starts to punch my gut.

“This is your daddy. He is the bravest man I’ve ever known. Don’t worry, little one, he’ll come around. You’ll be special, and I won’t go a day without telling how much you are loved. Because you are.” Sobs break through my chest, “we created you in desperation. But you won’t live a life of struggles. They were ours, and you don’t need to worry, we’ll protect you.”

Two more wiggles answer me back.

Sliding my body off the bed, I shed Lawson’s gym clothes and replace them with my tattered dress. Pass through the hallways out the front door.

Just in time to see Lawson’s sister, Crimsyn kiss Verse goodbye. They both flick their attention to me, but I choose to walk in the opposite direction.

The motel is only a few miles away from Lawson’s house on the edge of town. When I reach it, I see Zailey and Harper looking around, waiting for some type of signal.

Glad they are up early. After I slept a few hours, the baby started kicking, and I knew it was time to leave. Even if Lawson tried to hold us into the morning.

I bolt. My feet still bare and weak from the forest ground. But I don’t care, because it’s the light at the end of the tunnel. I don’t stop until I feel them both solid against me.

All I keep thinking is finally; finally, I’m safe.

We are safe.

My knees crash to the sketchy pavement. Where I am sure, drug deals and sexual favors have occurred. The weight is gone, and floods of freedom gain way.

“Please, please, don’t leave without me.” I’m begging like my life depends on it. Because it does. Praying they help however possible, to get me somewhere ordinary and boring.

A place where I can feel 17 and not scared. An environment where I can laugh, have a carefree spirit. Home to heal, before this baby comes along, and we have to decide how to be healthy again.

“Halo? Halo? We’ve got you, we aren’t going anywhere. You’re safe, Halo. We’re here.” Harper and Zailey are down on their knees, cradling me. My sobs are contagious, and we all break.

“Ladies, let’s get you inside.” Of course, River and Shaymus had to follow them here. But I don’t mind, I even appreciate the added protection.

We go into their hotel room, and it is a lot nicer than I first suspected it would be.

“Come here, O. You look tired, are you still having nightmares?” Zailey moves to the bed across the room as she makes me lay down beside her.

“I’m pregnant.”

Shocked faces drop full mouths.

“Did he do this to you?” Harper is ready to go to battle and die for me. Noting the condition of my body.

I shake my head, explaining everything that went down with Kalonie and her clones. This time Zailey plots torture.

“What’s the plan, baby girl?” River asks me, but I don’t look into his eyes.

“I want to leave.”

“Honey, as much as I want to take you out of this horrible place. You’re 17 years old, it would be considered kidnapping.” Zailey tries to act responsibly and Harper only glares at her.

“I don’t give a shit, blame me. I’ll take the fall, she isn’t staying here.” Harper comes by my side and lifts my head, massaging the roots of my scalp.

“What good will that does, if you get arrested she gets sent back to her dad. Think logically, Calico.” Shaymus sits down at the table, frustrated that the love of his life is so selfless.

“Do you any lawyers?” It’s an idea, it’s a dream honestly.

“Shaymus.”

“My dad. I’ll give him a call.”

“What do you want to do, sue her, sue your dad?” Zailey wants to distinguish the details, and my head is spinning, I haven’t eaten in a while.

“Food, River! She needs substance and none of that vending machine shit!”

“Oh no, I’ll be okay.” My stomach cramps, and I start to feel queasy.

“Babe, when was the last time you ate?” Harper remains close to me.

“Two days ago.”

“We should go see a doctor, just in case. Zailey, maybe you can find a smoothie place with protein.”

“Got it! River, let’s haul ass.”

“Do you guys want anything while we are out?” River asks as Zailey tries to shove him out the door.

“They are perfectly fine! Did you not hear the pregnant woman in there! Two days! Let’s move now!”

“I don’t want to sue them. I would like to try and get emancipated if that were a possibility.”

“How will you provide for yourself? Housing, school, food? Do you have an income or savings?” Shaymus asks the right questions. Harper stops her massage as she stares at him.

“Harper, we have to know what we are going up against.” His elbows and leaning forward on his knees toward us.

“Shaymus, I don’t care if I have to work 4 jobs, 24-7 she will be provided for.”

“Harper…come on.” His reply, a losing match.

“My mother and grandparents left me an inheritance. It isn’t a wild amount, but I can live off of it until I graduate. I already calculated everything I would need for expenses. Shaymus, I can’t pay your dad a lot. But I can make payments after I find a job.”

“Olallie, don’t worry about my dad. He’ll take care of this. Let me call him.” Shaymus gets up and walks outside to talk on the phone.

He stays in front of the door, guarding us, protecting us.

“He loves you.”

“Doubtful.”

“He does, Harper.”

“I know, silly Olallie. Now, why didn’t you tell us what has been going on? This is the 3rd time she has come after you. I’m worried about you. Why hasn’t anyone done anything about Kalonie?”

Not answering her question, but admitting another.

“Do you ever feel like if you faded away, nobody would notice? Maybe it would make your life easier, the pain would lessen, and you could finally breathe unrestricted.”

Harper’s light brown hair nods to me. Her own priceless tears gain momentum as they ready their drop.

“Sometimes, I wonder why I’m here at all. Why was I saved, why did Luna sacrifice herself? Why doesn’t anybody like me? I try so hard to keep silent, keep out of others' ways. I am so tired of being this person nobody wants. It’s hard to see a purpose when everyone doesn’t see one in you either.” I crumble because the lack of perfection has left me squandered.

“O, baby. Are you going to keep your baby?” Harper’s fingers flutter against my forehead as she eases my tension.

“I doubt anyone would allow me to be a mother. There are not high hopes for my success.” It’s then if I wonder if Luna considered deserting me in the womb.

Yes, I want to do something good, the life inside me feels so pure, and I imagine how wonderful the experience might be to endure that love.

Were there minutes she contemplated that I wasn’t worth the damage to her reputation? Or was my mother always so fiercely loyal that the thought of taking the easy road never crossed her mind?

“Do you want me to call Lawson?” The small comment makes me cower, it seems like someone pulled the thought out of outer space, and we hadn’t experienced extraterrestrials.

“Would you call Vayden? Or send him a message at least that I’m okay.”

“Sure, I think I still have his number from when we went to Hudson’s.” Harper reaches out without leaving me. Not taking the chance to remove a comforting touch.

When her phone lights up, I close my eyes. Take a deep breath, and watch behind my eyelids as I dream of smiling people, laughing with their hands.

 “Olallie! I don’t give a shit if you are the attorney general, dude. Let me see her, or you are free to lay my ass out in front of the whole town, man!” Vayden’s voice comes through like a train barreling down a tunnel.

“What happened?” Trying to pry my eyes open and adjust the heavy covers over my body.

“Vayden isn’t one to obey orders.” River leans against the window watching Shaymus holding back his fists.

“Let him in, River.” Zailey finds a napkin and a plate as she organizes a buffet of food in front of me.

“Amos, he’s good.” Shaymus relaxes and goes in first, looks around the room. Follows Harper into the bathroom, and we hear the shower start to pour.

“Olallie! Dear God, girl, I heard about what happened!” He rushes to my side, and I forget how miniature I feel to his height.

I begin to take small bites, with extra quiet smiles. Not saying one thing or another.

“How bad was it, baby?” Vayden’s knuckles rub the short chunks of hair behind my ear.

Baby. The way it rubs over his lips makes me wish it was him I was connected to in heart and head.

So I try, my own lips lean forward and press into his. Wanting this, choosing him. But it doesn’t flatter either of us.

His face is scrunched as he pulls back. “Okay, thank you for that, Sister Mary.”

“Sorry.”

“Thought we already established that this couldn’t work between us. Yes, losing the virginity was an appealing moment. We both know it wasn’t going to happen. But I am glad I have someone in my life that can appreciate my lava lamp.” Giving me a pat on the back and I smack his gut so hard he coughs up an apology.

“Hold up, Daisy Dukes. You got her pregnant?” Zailey starts cleaning the clutter while River watches and holds one of her hands.

Always connected, always grounded. Maintained and acknowledged.

“No, sweet Lord. My mother might disown me. I’m sorry it wasn’t me, I would have taken the ass whopping.” Accurate statements leave his mouth and crawl into my ear, his eyes say more.

Wishing things were different that we were different. I wondered how long it would be before we gave hope on reality and believed in our dreams.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Who says you’re invited?” Z makes a grumble out of her mouth.

“Thank you for getting me food, Zailey, and River. I feel a better, not as lightheaded.” Rubbing my stomach as a few movements hit the top of the belly button.

“Vay, it’s moving.” I take his hand, and he feels for the first time another life. Beautiful almond-shaped eyes, crease with a smile.

“I’m going to be an uncle.”

“Get in line, dude.” My friend comes to sit next to us, amazed. A hand raises hesitantly as she asks a silent question. I give her a nod, and there we take in the subtle pattern.

“What are you guys doing?” Harper comes out with wet hair, and Shaymus behind her, drying his own damp head.

“Harp, the baby, it’s moving.” Oh, how the words feel too luxurious. It is a gift I shouldn’t be receiving, but I can’t help it, I enjoy the seconds it lasts.

“C—can I feel it?” Worry covers her face as if I would deny her.

“Right here, it’s small but strong.”

As the flat base of her palm lays against my tummy. She waits, and slowly it becomes real. Looking back at Shaymus, they share a silent conversation. One he passes over to River when Harper returns her attention back to me.

“It’s real.”

Four hands bless this baby, my friends surrounding me with support and compassion. I look to each face and understand I was never alone, I just needed to ask for help.

Out loud, we stand here. Coming together.

~

It takes two weeks to gather everything we need, and I do my best to lose any anxiety. There is a horrible worry that this could go wrong or make situations worse.

We take a trip to the hospital, check the baby is still healthy and thriving. My own body recovering from damages. All were approved with flying colors, except my hydration needs to be improved.

“You should have let me murder her when she did that shit to your hands.” My girl filled with rage, always wanting to defend.

“Z, we both know Kalonie isn’t going to survive any attack you plan.” Harper tries to calm the tension, but she keeps looking at my stomach, terrified it might be contagious.

“That is why I said murder. I’m serious how long is hot daddy going to let these assaults slide?”

“Did you call her dad hot, Z?” River makes a gagging noise.

“He is a looker.” Harper agrees.

“I don’t know how this is helping.” Shaymus shakes his head.

“Does anyone have a picture?” Shaymus’ mom, Holly, puts a stake in the conversation.

“Seriously, honey? I’m right here, in the same room.” Shaymus’ dad, Rich, a man who seems more protective than gladiators.

“Hush, I’m not getting any younger. Got to keep my options open, darling.” She winks at me, and I want to hug her.

“So, I am sorry to say that the laws in Oklahoma aren’t on our side unless you are 18.” Rich, speaks out and I hear the words, and I know we’ve come to a stop.

“But, I turned 17 a few months ago. It’s another year, here. What if I graduate early? Prove evidence of abuse and income that I can take care of myself. Is there any hope then? There has to be something?” I won’t go back.

I can’t.

“Well, there is another way, but it’s unlikely to be a better choice.”

“Dad?” Shaymus glares at his dad like it was never meant to be brought up.

“Hear me out, Olallie. Oklahoma law states you are legally emancipated when you are under the age of 18 if you are married.”

Married? Married? Who would marry me? Oh my gosh, I look around the room, embarrassed again.

“Lawson.” Someone utters his name.

“Rich, could I get an apartment in town? Is there a way to get around it?” I try to think of anything to separate me from the Krause’s.

“Lawson, we should bring Lawson in on this. He is the father to the baby, he should know the situation.”

“What about Leonie? She is my half-sister, she is Harper and Zailey’s age. Could she be my guardian?”

“It’s a stretch, Olallie. Does she depend on your father’s money to afford her schooling and housing.”

Yes.

“Please, I would never beg. I don’t want to burden you, but I need an outlet. I’m scared of what will happen next. I can’t let anything happen to this child.”

“Olallie, are you pregnant?” Holly whispers over to me. I don’t move my eyes to hers, only continue to stare at Rich.

“We need to file police reports and charge her with aggravated assault, get witness testimonies. But if your father is who you say he is, and his power is strong. We need to consider another option.”

“I have to go. Be back later.”

“Promise me, Vayden.” I don’t look at him, but I know he might be up to something. He can’t look in my direction, worried he will spill the beans.

“It’s the right thing to do. Olallie, for both of you.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 30

OLALLIE

 

Arriving back home, I do my best to not lose my nerves. No more dressings wrap around my scabbed wounds.

There were a few debates about who would serve Knox the papers, but I do because it’s one last thing I need to face.

There is an absence of people, the halls haunted by happy childhood laughter. Laughter I never joined in on wasn’t an active member of the family back then.

Half expect Kalonie to jump out and catch me with a noose around my throat, dragging me back to my place in the corner.

A small deep breath as I look both ways before I hold a steady fist to knock on his office door. The big decorative K carved into the wood.

“Lennox.” Opening it wide, before he tells me to come back another time.

The only time we have left is right now. And I am afraid I am wasting it.

His blonde head briefly looks at me, but does a double-take, realizing I am actually there in the flesh.

“Olallie, where have you been?” Leaning back over his work, files labeled with sections. Other papers scattered around the ample space.

A few seconds go by when I contemplate a reply. Sentences filter through my mind, trying to take advantage of his attention.

I was recovering. I was between houses. I didn’t know if I could trust you, I realized I couldn’t.

Yet, I don’t feel the need to compromise anymore. As I finish signing trust and couldn’t, Knox still refuses to look directly at me.

Looking down at my hanging hands, waiting for him to read the words, I let them dangle to my side, forgiving myself for the effort.

So I walk over and place the manila envelope over his tasks. Knox looks bored, annoyed at the interruption. Sliding out the prepared documents, he scans them before shutting them back into the packet.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t. You’re not 18.”

“Now, you remember my age?”

“Olallie, I understand you are having a hard time here. You and Kalonie have had some disagreements. This is not the way it is going to go down.”

“Wrong, Lennox. Soon Kalonie will be arrested, her clones as well. You will get her a lawyer. She will be sent away, and so the story goes. Did you know you could be held liable to the violent crimes she committed? An accomplice to attempted murder.” If he continued to read, it would have laid out a comprehensive plan.

“Attempted murder seems a bit much. But it seems you wanted my attention, little girl, so tell me what happened?” His tatted knuckles form together as he leans over his desk, eyeing me.

My smile is quick to spread against my teeth, “The interior of your prison is well maintained. From the outside, it almost looks like a classic horror dungeon.”

“When did you find the time to take a tour of the prison?” This shocks him out of everything. Not the violence from Kalonie, not the pregnancy from Lawson. But not knowing one of his own descendants was strolling the halls of his business.

“The guards found me outside.”

“No one called me.” Knox eyes his phone as if this all happened yesterday.

“Two weeks have passed since then.”

“What would you like, apparently you came with demands? I came unprepared for this round.”

He thought he saw Luna in me. But he only saw himself. Lennox Krause only saw himself. Right now, he wondered if I was the one to take him down. To make it known that he wasn’t invincible.

None of us were.

“Under the condition, I get married, you will give me permission to not belong under your name any longer.”

“You hold your Lovett title, what difference does it make?”

“Because I can take care of myself. Luna and her parents left me money. If you don’t allow this of me, I could, however, uncover items that would not be pleasing to the public eye.”

“Blackmail, it seems you are my daughter.”

“You misjudged my intentions.”

“Who would you marry? One of the Sonny boys? Your friend, the Villatoro boy? He isn’t good enough.”

“Lawson Arzola.”

“He did this to you.”

“As you did to my mother.” Knox’s eyes stare at my belly that is noticeable, with how tiny my body usually is.

He does not nod in agreement or shake his head in disgust. Instead, he leans back in his chair. Knowing the hand that has been dealt with.

Knox’s immortal hands tied to my lie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 31

LAWSON

 

This morning I run until my feet scream, and my legs were burdened with my weight.

“Lawson, what do you think you are doing, boy?” Patch’s voice echoes in the stadium as I continue my path up and down the stairs of the bleachers.

“Training.”

“Not going to do any good now.”

“What do you mean? I could still get a scholarship for college. We’ve had a few offers from state universities.”

“Boy, you ain’t going to college. What about Olallie?”

“Olallie isn’t my problem.”

“No, but you made it your problem when you decided to get her pregnant.”

“I didn’t wake up one day and think hey, I would love to throw away any chances of getting out of this hell hole. So I am going to not put on a condom one time, maybe twice and sleep with a chick who can’t hear my nightmares. Real classy explanation, daddy.”

“Got a smart mouth on you already. I can’t wait for you to have a son and he back talks you, it will be a gift for me daily.” Patch sits down on the lowest row of seats.

Son? Is it even possible that I could have a son? Oh shit, what if it’s a girl, and then I have a heart attack trying to protect her from assholes like me.

“Lawson, you are just like me, this town is your home, and you’ll die before you ever have the sensation of anything better outside of the border.”

I stop, bend in half trying to breathe.

“I see those wheels turning. Honestly, I am happy for you, I was worried I wouldn’t be a grandpa until I was decrepit. But now you have solved the problem. And hey Stetson and the baby close in age, they can be friends.” He talks so smooth I wonder if it is going to be that easy.

Taking inventory of the troubles I’ve caused, I would assume that it is going to be the furthest thing from simple.

“Where have you been, baby brother? Mom has been pissed; you’ve been skipping out on family dinners.” Verse cups his hands as he hollers to Vayden, who makes his way over to us.

We are all lounging around the picnic tables at the park. The workout this morning has me wanting to lounge for a decade, at least.

His face is frozen with anger. His feet don’t stop until he is right in my face.

“Back up, baby brother.”

“You have to marry Olallie.”

“Not going to happen, you sick fuck.”

“Where is she, Lawson? After she ran from your house, barefoot down the highway 8 miles to a motel. Where is she, Lawson? Who is she with?”

I stand up, and our chests bump.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” It’s been two weeks, and I couldn’t find her. Did I look, yes? Did I give up the search early on, also yes?

“They’re going to send her back to that house. Next time it might not be scratches and bruises. It might be her last breath or your baby’s.” He is pointing so hard, it could be a death laser.

I flick my eyes over to Verse, who eyes me at the word baby.

“Olallie’s pregnant.” It comes from my mouth because if Vayden was about to say anything, I would deliver a right hook into his cheekbone.

“Fuck, how far along?”

“I don’t know, out to here.” I move my hand inches out and decide its around that size.

“Lawson, if you marry her, she can get emancipated.”

“Doesn’t a parent need to sign off on that?”

Vayden nods.

“What, like Knox, is going to allow us to get married? But not allow her to live on her own? You’re crazy.”

“As long as he thinks someone is controlling her, he trusts that you will do the right thing and keep her in line, maybe even safe.”

“No.” I slam my shoulder into him as I pass.

“She didn’t ask for help, the first time Kalonie hurt her. A part of her thinks she deserves everything that happens to her. Because she didn’t want to be saved before. Olallie is asking for help now, Lawson. Do the right thing.”

Baby brother’s words taunt me, and I try to rethink our previous conversations. Was there a time, she ever complained when Kalonie and her criminals ruined her hands? Did I miss the silent signals? Was I part of the aggressors?

I make my way up the hill, past my house. Where I should go in and find my mother and Patch, sit them down and tell them I knocked up the daughter of their closest friend.

But as I approach the cobblestone driveway, the metal gate. I decide to sit outside on the bench near the keypad. There isn’t a right choice to make here.

No matter what Vayden believes. One of us is going to lose.

If only I held humbleness to think she was worth losing everything for.

I’ve already lost, I’ve already made up my mind. Even though I know, Olallie won’t be happy. Know I won’t be the first one to sign up for this arrangement. She wanted freedom, and I wanted an easy way out to get the glory.

It must be a few minutes before Olallie strolls out, tears flowing. Gaining balance to stand, I watch as she meets me across the way. She doesn’t run to me, arms open wide, looking for a refuge.

She blinks and then turns to see a car pull up. Her hand on the small handle as the car idles waiting for Olallie to make a decision.

Seconds pass as we play this game. My ghost girl waits for me to make a move. To reach out and pull her into a home we are about to create. Maybe I shouldn’t be a coward, but I’m scared.

The stupid subconscious quietly nags at me. Reminding me that Olallie has been scared her whole life.

One step closer and the car is already down the road—another missed chance.

Knox is leaning, watching the whole spectacle as she leaves us behind.

Making his way over, he falls onto the side of the bench I wasn’t claiming.

“It was you, wasn’t it.” Knox Krause wasn’t up for arguing, he was affirming my sins.

All I did was nod.

“You know, son. Months before you came along and before I sent Olallie away. I use to spend my nights curled into a ball on her rug at the bottom of her bed. The nights weren’t the worst, by any means. She is a quiet soul. But somehow I worried that one of those times she wouldn’t want to wake up. She would slowly start to disappear. When the sun streamed in through the windows, I thanked God for restoring her life each morning. Even if all we got was to see her one last day.

“Do you know what that is like? To constantly worry if your daughter, your baby girl, wants to live? If she even wants to survive the night? Why wouldn’t she want to live? Haven’t I given her everything?”

We both know it wasn’t about what we could give to her. She wanted to be witnessed, worthy of value.

“Maybe its simply letting her know that she matters.”

“No, Olallie wouldn’t do this shit for attention. That is the biggest issue. Don’t you see that? She never asked for anything. She never once uttered a refuge in her sister or her brother. Nobody knew Olallie didn’t want to be protected, Lawson.”

“I suppose things have changed her needs as far as having that baby.”

Knox’s blue eyes remind me of the girls I’ve destroyed more times than I want to acknowledge.

“Do you know what they say about my reputation?”

I did. I thought one day, I would be a king like him. One day I could live on a throne, painted with my last name instead of his.

“I’ve never been a good man, Lawson. You’re dad wasn’t always a bad guy.”

“Meaning?”

“Life happens, we make choices, and then we decide who we are going to become.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“No one would in your position. Except, I’ve lived those fears you have right now. My parents weren’t around, so I fended for myself. Rebecca had Leonie, and the witch of a woman tricked me with the twins. Olallie came from Luna, and I have to say it was so surprising.”

“I think she wants to keep the baby, our baby.” Coughing out the reality.

“She will, and you will stay by her side. Not because it is the courageous thing to do or you grew a pair of balls overnight. Nah, Lawson, you are going to do it. Because I need someone to pass down the legacy to someone that can handle the pressure. From both legal and illegal ventures.”

“What are you asking me to do, Knox?”

“Oh, no, you misunderstand me. I’m not asking, you are free to marry my daughter. As I assume, she wants to be emancipated from me, and I’ll give her that win. But make no mistake the agreement between us. When I decide to step down, I will call upon you and Calhoun if he ever gets his dick out of some guy’s ass. And, Lawson, you’ll come.”

Knox stands up to full height and stretches looks over to the prison behind us and smiles at his success.

“Oh, congratulations on your marriage and baby!” He slaps me hard on the shoulder.

Fear starts to rise as I want to stand my ground and face him. But I realize he has given me a simple way out. He has offered me everything I think I wanted, even the corrupt crook inside me.

“Pick out a ring, a house. Get the fuck off my lawn and stop mopping like my youngest offspring stole your manhood.”

All I can say is, “Yes, sir.”

Even if it wasn’t the power, he was transferred to me. I hungered for Olallie. And one way or another, she would always be mine. I would prove to us until the day I died.

Leonie stood close by, examining the encounter between us. Making sure the exchange was viable and thorough.

“She gave up her solitude, her silence for you. All because you got uncomfortable with trying to understand.”

“I didn't ask for this. She doesn't deserve this.”

“You stole her soul and heart.” And I watched her walk away.

One thing was different between Knox and me. I wasn’t going to stray, if I needed to get my dick sucked, Olallie’s mouth would open wide.

If my eyes wandered, they were allowed. Commitment and loyalty were important to me, it had to be, or the pyramid would crumble.

When urges of a wet, slick tight pussy needed to ride me for a few hours, my wife would be the one catering to my will. There was no arguing when it came to control.

She was going to have to give in to our relationship. What better way than on our wedding night. Angels to others, but she would always be my ghost.

At first, Olallie withdrew from my life like it was a multiple-choice question. Picking D; None of the above.

Rolling my shoulders back and straightening my spine, I hated Knox. But one day, I would replace him. It didn’t matter how we got there, it was going to happen.

“Guess I’m going shopping for an engagement ring.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 32

OLALLIE

 

“Stop it! Goddamn it, can’t you see I am trying to help you!” Lawson’s face is loud and angry. Red blotches appear on his cheeks as he glares at me. Tanned skin so lovely, the shade of brown makes me want to believe in autumn.

“No, I can’t see it. But, boy, do I hear it! I feel it, this benefits you more than it does to me. I’m not even a trophy at your side. The deaf girl, a side bargain to getting what you really want; Knox’s kingdom.” I twirl my ring around my finger, he looks at it as if they are too scrawny. I bet he wants to ask if I’ve been eating.

Of course, I have.

“It doesn’t matter what I get out of this. You got what you wanted, you wanted to be free from the Krause name, you wanted to be out of his house. I am giving you protection, I am giving us our family.”

“Just one with strings attached, where my mouth remains closed, my thoughts remain my own. Knox should have kept me deaf, no reason to hear now. Might as well be locked away in a tower, and used primarily for breeding purposes.”

“Does that make you feel better knowing you are the victim, and I am the villain in all of this?”

“No, but I know it makes you feel better. Justifies the situation, in fact, I would recommend you seeing the bigger picture. A happy wife doesn’t make for a happy life. Under no condition does one fall beside the next.”

“I don’t need you happy, I need you alive.”

“If you are trying so hard to follow in my father’s footprints, you would know your first lover doesn’t make it out of this love story alive. The second does, but she’ll end up betraying you. And the third, well, she has a similar fate as the first.” Referring to Rebecca and my mother's deaths cuts so deep, it makes us both turn away.

Respect, that is what I would be hoping to gain when marrying. Love, as far fetched as the idea blossoms, I squander it and know I can’t request such a shamble.

“I. Love. You.” Lawson begs for it to be known.

“It’s almost as hard for you to admit it as it is to believe that it could be true. Goodnight, Lawson, by all means, go back to screwing the masses. Don’t hesitate or stop on my account. Our bond was built on worshipping temptations. You shouldn’t hold sacrifices as such.”

I wave him closer, but I don’t use my voice, I use my hands. And with them, I unveil all my worries that are lost on his lust for dreams.

I only want you when the darkness is too heavy to hold by myself. The love I have is formulated by real doubt. Doubt, the world is an excellent place to thrive but insists I survive it. Doubt that somewhere there was goodness within you, and hope you found it within me.

I take a deep breath, my hands so heavy with words. Lawson only understands the small sentences or even simple words. It wouldn’t matter either way.

This admission was more for me then for him.

I cannot control you; you cannot control my fate. This child will be the last thing we do together. Our time is up.

Still, I walk down the waxed hallway. I wear a dress that I won’t remember. Lawson’s family sits on his side. Knox stands in the back corner, and we wait for the judge to declare us husband and wife.

Once he does, I turn, dropping my hand from Lawson’s lost in a wheel of grief.

No, kiss the bride, I pronounce you happy newlyweds. Harper and Zailey don’t smile standing by my side, as I agree to this arrangement.

No instead, I went to the grocery store-bought a small cupcake and found my Saturday spot in the cemetery.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it to the ceremony.” Leonie makes an entrance I don’t acknowledge.

Lawson, for whatever reason, exits the passenger side door and leans against it. Watching his wife and her sister socialize with the dead.

“Didn’t miss much.” I hand her half my cupcake, and she eats it without much response.

“Olallie, there are times in life when we make personal sacrifices to benefit the greater good.”

“Knox teach you that?”

“No, Lawson told me that in the car ride over. He says he loves you, emotions are fickle. I would be cautious.”

“He did it to gain Knox’s favor, I was the side dish that came with the deal.” I have never felt more like a moody teenager than I do right now.

“Your thinking is incorrect.”

“Is it now?”

“After speaking with Knox, Lawson wanted you. The power and glory of Krause seem favorable. But Lawson could have that without you. He picked you because there wasn’t any other way to remain sane.” Leonie plucked a flower and placed it on her mother’s grave.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 33

LAWSON

 

I sit there after she leaves the room. I feel beyond helpless, trying to fix this colossal mess I created. One I built brick by brick, hoping the betrayal wouldn’t be from my side.

She doesn’t want you. The cruel voice that beckons me at night. She doesn’t need you.

Before she goes, her hands come up, and she contorts to confessions I beg to know, but only catch some words.

“Dear God, I can’t believe I am about to ask baby brother for advice on how to heal this fucked up relationship with Olallie.”

She signed the word darkness. A name I knew well, my nightmares lurked there, but they always found her smiling.

“Baby brother…”

“Lawson, you asshole, is there something that someone like me could help you with?”

“I would like to know how to get Olallie to forgive for crimes I may or may not have done.”

“What?”

“I am asking you to talk to her and have her like me again.”

“Ship has sailed, the anchor was thrown overboard and docked on the harbor. It doesn’t have any schedule for departing.”

“Baby brother, your humor is not appreciated at the moment. I can have Verse beat your ass.”

“I can have Olallie, ignore you for decades.” His counter is a good one.

“Fine, you jackass! I need help, I am asking for help. I cannot stand her looking at me like I spit on her mother’s grave for the remainder of our lives!”

“Say, please.”

“I could kill you, allow that to sink in for a minute before you reply.”

“Say please, you bastard, or I will adopt your precious bundle of joy, and he will have my last name, not yours.”

“Dear fuck. I hope you have a grave picked out. Hopefully, by the hill where I can look out my window and smile every time the sun sets.”

“Ha-ha, alright! But seriously ask nicely, I would have done it, either way, my girl is hurting, and I can’t watch her suffer any longer.”

“My girl!”

“Nah, not until your signatures dry on that stupid certificate. There is a chance I could convince her to run away with me.”

“Baby brother…” My patience lost.

“Say my name and please.”

“Haiku Vayden Mori-Villatoro, if you would be so kind as to lower your standards and help a guy out. That would be great, but keep in mind I will get you back for making me beg.”

“Show up and start out small.”

“What do you mean, that’s all you’ve got? I knew asking you would be a mistake.”

“Listen, bro. If you want O to trust you, you are going to have to build it from the ground up. You take her to her pregnancy appointments. Get her smoothies, just because, not having to be asked. Sit down and watch a movie with her, rub her feet.” The idea of touching her makes my body wake up.

“Do these small things that you have nothing to gain. Lawson, it isn’t difficult to treat someone like they matter, everybody is important to somebody.”

So I do.

In the next few weeks, I stretch myself out of my comfort zone. When I find Olallie in the den watching a sci-fi fantasy, I stomach the imagination and prop her feet on a pillow in my lap.

Olallie stares at me, wondering what my motive is. I try to conceal the want in my own limbs as I caress hers.

We go to appointments, I try to hold her hand, and she stares at it every time that electric spark ignites between us. Pulling away before getting burned again.

Open her door, get the stupid food that she thinks is tasty. Not even feeling whipped but feeling dare, I say it helpful.

And for the first time in my life, it doesn’t feel wrong doing things for others. In fact, it almost feels good. I hate to admit it, but seeing her more relaxed even makes me happy.

“Lawson, when you coming over for dinner this week?” Angel calls a few hours before Olallie’s appointment.

“Angel, I told you I don’t know if we have time this week. Olallie is close to her delivery date and has been in a lot of pain.”

“I gave birth to 4 babies, and I handle each of them perfectly fine. Bring yourself and her, on Tuesday. It is the least you can do for us before you make us grandparents before we are old enough.” Dramatics come from the other end of the phone call, and even her moodiness makes me laugh.

“I’ll see what she says, but I’m sure it’s fine. Angel, you shouldn’t be worried about the title of grandma. Last week when I stopped by, I saw gray hairs and a few new wrinkles.” Teasing her about her looks gets on her nerves more than anything.

“You are lucky you are the firstborn, or I would have thrown you to the fishes.”

“Got to go, hanging out with Verse before graduation.”

“Good, I need to call the salon and make an appointment apparently I have gray hair!” Without so much as I love you, she hangs up in a hurry.

“Your mom still adjusting to Olallie?”

“Not quick enough, the ice queen seems to have met her match.”

“It’s strange, your mother doesn’t like her. As if she is jealous of how strong she is, what she’s been through.” He shrugs as we continue our foosball game.

Baby brother, Samson, and the guys join us later. We drink a few beers, and my cousins start to smoke some weed.

A text arrives, and I switch my drink bottle to the other hand, getting it out of my pocket. Checking the message from an unknown number. Having Knox’s contacts has proven useful, especially for my first vengeful act.

It’s done.

Not replying as I slide it back in my pocket, getting back into the vibe of my post-bachelor party.

“Kalonie been handled?” Verse jerks his head to my pocket.

“She won’t be coming back any time soon.” Another swig from my whiskey, relieved for once that Olallie is out of danger. Letting the alcohol rip down my throat. At least from her sister’s wrath, don’t know if I can save her from mine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 34

OLALLIE

 

The pain that has grown stronger throughout the night gets even bolder, and I clench. Water flows from underneath my dress, and I curse myself hoping it isn’t pee.

“Lawson?”

“What is it, babe?” He comes in, arms hanging on the doorframe above our bedroom. I hate him for looking so good.

His sweat glistens on his chest, and his gym shorts low on his abs.

“Is Olallie Lovett checking me out?” He gives me a wink, and I want to slap his smug face.

“Olallie Arzola, thanks to my new husband.” Rub my back as I try to catch another breath.

“Sounds like a lucky guy to be able to win you over.” He grins and I force myself to hate him.

Disgusting his appeal on the human race. Damn, hot blooded male with crazed impulses.

He’s all mine, poor boy, his loss.

“Is Lawson Arzola not acting like he wishes he could pick me up, bend me over this bed, and spread me wide? Maybe wrap my thighs against your body, as you thrust so fucking deep inside me, I see the sparkling stars in the night sky. Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

“Don’t tease, baby girl.” Lawson’s brown eyes flicker with want and need.

“Awe, I bet it’s hard for you to resist squeezing the life out of these breasts. God, how big they’ve gotten.” I am careful to caress them gently, how sore they are, I worry they will explode.

This sexy talk is making the contractions worse, but the pain subsides.

“Why are you doing this to me?” For a minute, his eyes look tortured, his voice revealing a different pain.

“My water broke, we have to get to the hospital. Call Leonie, she’ll meet us there.” He doesn’t rush, he keeps staring at my hands on the boobs.

“Lawson!”

“What? Hospital! Oh, shit! It’s happening, I’ll get the car.” He turns and flees, I wiggle my way to change my dress and grab our bags.

“O? Where are you? Let’s go!” I’m in the closet, wondering how to get my arms unstuck from the sleeves.

“Well, looks like you require assistance, my darling.”

“Don’t push your luck, man.”

“Labor makes you saucy, I’ll have to remember that when I knock you up with our next kid.”

“Why would you want to inflict so much pain on someone you claim to love?”

“Olallie, you are the strongest woman I will ever meet. A few hours of discomfort doesn’t knock you down a grade. It raises your spirits and makes you a fighter.”

Tears come, and I wash them away with his shirt. “Stop, or I might start liking you.”

“Oh, Angel wants to know if she can be in the delivery room with us. I told her you would love to have her.” Lawson bends down and picks me up, carrying me to the car.

“Thank you for making the affection I had grown over the past months for you quickly vanish, always consistent.”

“Just doing my duty as a husband.”

I start singing through the pain, “Olallie, Olallie, my fair lady. The hair of a halo, a crown of gold. Once you cry those tears of joy, you won’t ever be scared or cold. Our hands are open, my eyes always hearing. Don’t worry darling, there is nothing to be fearing.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 35

LAWSON

 

“You’re doing great, a little bit longer, and your baby will be here.” The nurses reassure my wife, as she lays there in agony.  

Her face doesn’t give much to the actual distress she is enduring for our child. Olallie remains outwardly calm, and I don’t know what to do in the meantime.

“Lawson?” She barely whispers as she lifts her eyes, pleading with me to give her anything. I will, do anything, be anyone, for her, every time.

“Would you kiss me.” She begs.

For the first time, I hesitate, almost embarrassed as I look around the room, wondering about the medical staff peeking eyes.

“Right now?” We haven’t kissed in months, and I’m worried if I start, I won’t be stopping until the kid pops his head out.

Olallie looks at me and nothing else, her eyebrows scrunch with what I assume is another contraction.

She doesn’t have an answer, just bites her lip down and shakes her head. Looks down at her belly and then back up at one of the nurses.

“I’m ready to push now.”

“You sure, sweetie? Last time I checked, you were only at 7 cm.”

“She said she’s ready, so get ready.” There is a final tone in my 19-year-old voice. The authority of being respected is noted in every syllable.

“Could you leave the room, Lawson?” Again she speaks to her swollen belly.

“What are you talking about? Our baby will be here in minutes. I’m not leaving your side.”

“I’m asking you to.”

“O? Why?” How did I fuck up in the last hour? We were doing so good, and now I was going to miss the most crucial moment both of us could share.

Letting go of my hand, she holds to the railing and turns on her side away from me, nodding at the doctor.

“Let me check you one more time, then we can get started. You are very brave, giving birth is horrible. Without the epidural or anesthesia, it’s even worse.” Whatever the nurse’s name is kept Olallie calm and motivated.

As she moves to talk to the doctor, I try to regain my place next to her.

“O, baby. Olallie? I’m sorry if I did something wrong, but I’m not going anywhere. You need me, we have to stick together. Please, if you tell me to go, I’ll stand in the corner. But, watching you suffer hurts, and I want to ease the ache.”

“Then kiss me, like I asked you to before. I need a distraction, can you give me that?”

My glare is fierce, and I hate both of us for not understanding each other. My scowl pinches, and the more I focus, the worst the contractions restrict her breath.

I grip her head, my hands covering her CI’s. Olallie’s face is dull from emotion. Still clutching the side of the bed, as if it will be a bigger support system in her time of need.

My lips press against hers, and I convince her to open to continue. The first kiss is a test, and I push past it into her clouded judgments.

Our teeth meet, and I hear her give me a laugh as I bite out a hiss. That lovely tongue I’ve dreamt about goes to lick my sore ego.

Her lips form to mine, and they allow me to dominate and control the situation.

“Sweetheart, we can see the head!”

“See what happens when you listen to me?” Olallie finds my hand and squeezes, she starts to push life into the world.

“See what happens when you trust me.” Giving her hand a squeeze back, the same side last year was covered in nasty sores. All scarred and marked with the consequences of being different, being too beautiful for other girls to stand.

I bring it to my lips as I part from hers, closing my eyes and kissing each of her scars. Reminding myself how much I have to be grateful. So thankful to have her in my life, even if I forced the decision.

 

“Congratulations, you have a healthy, baby boy!” The doctor lifts him up, and I drop all conscious thought.

His cries leave the atmosphere, and all I see is him, in silence, I witness new life. I recognize a new beginning. The nurse wraps him up and puts him in my arms. I hold tight to him, wondering if I will ever be careful enough.

“Is he perfect?” She lets go and cries for her newborn and the old ways.

“He came out of you, didn’t he?” I move slowly as I make each step solid as I place him in her arms.

“Would daddy like to cut the cord?” A nurse offers me this opportunity of a lifetime.

“We have a son, Lawson.” Olallie’s eyes are full and the marvel sets in, giving direction to the miracle we have manifested.

“Olallie, you made him possible.”

“Have you got a name picked out for the little guy?” A nurse comes by to put a hat on his head.

“I don’t know if we’ve decided yet.” Olallie’s voice seems small and out of breath.

“No, rush. Would you like to give the baby his first bath while we get mommy cleaned up?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Get the doctor back in here! Something’s wrong, her placenta abrupted. She has excessive bleeding.” There is a rush, and again the quiet returns, fear comes in Olallie’s eyes. A few seconds go by, and it’s like clarity hits her and somehow believes this is her fate. Being stripped from happiness all over again.

Then those sweet eyelids blink and remain closed.

“What does that mean? What’s happening? Is she going to be okay?” I’m yelling, our son starts screaming as a nurse takes him from the safety of his mother’s arms.

“Lawson—” But her eyes roll to the back of her head, and they close.

“O? Ghost? OLALLIE?” Fuck, this shit!

No, no, this can’t be happening! Not now, not after going through all the uphill battles. You’ve got to be kidding me, God!

“What’s that? What are you giving her?” The doctor comes up and stamps a needle into her leg.

“It’s to slow her bleeding.”

“Olallie? Can you hear me, sweetie?” A nurse across from me tries to get a rise out of her unconscious state.

What the fuck is happening? Panic races over my chest in a cold shiver. I’m at my wits' end.

“Is she going to be okay?” Her hand limps in mine. The doctors ignore my questions, and I figure that isn’t a good sign.

Oh, God. I’ve never been a believer, but I swear if the almighty takes Olallie from me now. I will make a covenant with the devil and make sure to wreak havoc on any holy followers.

  When I contemplate how to contact the devil, her hand regains some pulse. Our son slows his scream.

“Awe, I think she’s coming back around. Her pulse is leveling out, bleeding is under control. We’ve detached and delivered the placenta.” Now they answer my questions, but I don’t give a damn. Because those beautiful aqua eyes, still don’t move.

“Give me my son.”

“We should really start cleaning him up and getting him in clothes.” Just Lost Her Job Nurse calls out.

“Did I fucking ask you what you thought?”

“You’ll need to calm down before we have to escort you out, Mr. Arzola.” The doctor thinks this is his territory, but I revolt at any threat.

“Let me make a phone call to my father-in-law, Knox Krause.”

“No need to make any calls.” The one nurse who has been decent the whole ordeal walks over to me and gives him to me.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, try placing him on her chest. It may help wake her up. Lawson, she’s a fighter, she’ll recover.”

I give her a tight nod and don’t watch as they still wander around the room, fearing for their jobs and maybe their lives.

“Here’s mommy, tough little guy. We’ve been waiting so long to see you.” As I talk to him, his eyes open, and we stare at each other for the first time.

No backing down from fatherhood and my son knows he will keep me in check every day.

I rest him next to her boobs, a few wet spots start to leak.

Olallie opens her eyes, unaffected like I haven’t been freaking the fuck out for the past 15 minutes.

She looks at me, then at him. Immediately wrapping her arms around his body.

“Need some milk, little man.” She pops out a boob, and he suckles to it quickly without argument. When he looks up at me hovering over her, staking a claim on Olallie’s tits.

Our small miracle closes his eyes before I can make a counteroffer.

“We can share, buddy.” I bend down and kiss the top of her head.

“Negotiating my melons with our son?”

“It’s good to lay down the law as soon as possible.”

“He’s going to have you wrapped around his finger by the time we go home from the hospital.” Her fingers caress his cheek as he nuzzles in closer.

“What are we going to name him, Lawson?” The awe in her voice makes me hallucinate a happy ending. It isn’t a natural choice, but it’s the one that matters the most.

“Kyro Asher Arzola.”

“Why would you do that for me? You never met the man.”

“Because he saved you, and our son should be named after a warrior.”  

The End.

Stay tuned for the 3rd book in

Mum’s The Word Series.

METANOIA: Calhoun’s Courage

 

First loves weren't meant to strip you bare and leave you for dead.

Static shakes my eardrums, a prelude to consequences of my choices. Before I taunt myself to remember. One pummel after another, the abyss greets the conscious state, and I'm glad my soul at least finds safety. Areas of my body contract from the pressure of the punches, lips hum a song I only remember from childhood fear. A kick to the chest is one last attempt to cover my boyfriend's treachery.

Bred in a town of bigots, growing up along the bible belt.

Calhoun's life has been burdened by loyalty. To his father, to the family name, to his twin Kalonie. But another secret is being kept quiet, a passion that has proven to be poisonous.

As a second love approaches, Calhoun struggles to understand if it's his guiding light or the final nail in his coffin.

 

PROLOGUE

I tried to blink, fuck how much I begged to have air delivered to my lungs. But the passageways were stomped on, and I  could feel the sensation of stomach acid rising to escape.

Coughs came more constant, and the bitter copper taste splattered on my ripped shirt. Blood painted itself on the cement as I tried to lift myself from the ground. Searching blindly for my phone, broken glass cutting into my palm, but I don't register the slices.

Those small incisions are nothing. From here on out, I'm going to take down the one person who made this all possible. It wasn't him who pointed the finger, whispering my name. My own twin,  Kalonie, put a target on my back. The Sonny boys were good at following orders, and I was good at hiding secrets.

A dark presence took over me, it knew all my secrets and would spill them out, knowing it was equal to getting my throat sliced.

Not only was I worried about what my father would think because that was damning in itself. But I was worried about what my high school teachers would think. Feared what strangers thought as if they could read it on my face and steer clear like I had a disease.

Never in my life had I ever called my father, Knox or Lennox. But I knew now there was a distance between us. As Olallie struggled to hold my build over hers, she muttering words I didn't pay attention to because I was internally bleeding from wounds I couldn't fix. There were no solutions to Leonie could discover for finding the male specimen more attractive than the female. Especially when you are of the male descendant.

It felt harmless at first, flirting with the idea, and I wanted to know maybe it could be more than an interest. Then I kissed Samson, one lousy drunk night in my room, and he kissed back.

Author’s Note

Dear Olallie

Back in 2017, a couple months after my daughter was born, I found you. We were driving through the mountains in Oregon. There hidden, protected by Mother Nature, was a lake, your namesake.

In the back seat, I had two toddlers and a newborn. We were on our way home after establishing separation from their father—a man I had loved since I was 17 years old.

Do you remember the semi that caught on the highway in front of us? We could feel the heat from the blazing flames as we passed it slowly.

Calhoun and Kalonie’s names came as we drove further past. I remember how beautiful and cruel your story was meant to be. Then I thought about Luna and Asher. My heart hurt, my smile grew small. I wondered how authentic it was to tell a story without a happy ending? Would I be applauded or crucified?

Olallie, you were always so protective of your mother, who tries to be good, always wanted to please others. Yet, it remained too wounded for others to care.

AJ (Broken Bonds) and you, were characters I wanted to take care of, take your pain away. Protect you from the hurt, from the inevitable. Not worried you both aren’t survivors, but that you would change from your tragedies.

Your hope, lose your faith and find commonly acceptable. I’m not ready to let you go yet. I don’t want either of you finished telling me your stories.

But we all have to move on eventually, and I hope I did justice to yours and Luna’s.

Love, Laikyn

 

 

The best compliment someone can receive is being thanked for being alive.

Thank you for being here, reading these words, continuing to live life.

You. Are. Not. Alone.

National Suicide Hotline:

1-800-273-8255

 

 

 

Other Books by Laikyn Meng

CHOICE

 

TRUE LIES Series:

1.Broken Bonds

(Autumn Jazmine & Jenkins)

2.Lost Salute

(Briggs & Trae Lae)

3.Sacrificing Lovers

(Laney & Noah)

4.Souvenir Souls

(All Characters)

 

Ever Duet

Didn’t We Say Forever?

(Harper & Shyamus)

Promise Me Never

(Zailey & River)

 

FUTURE RELEASES

 

MUM’S THE WORD SERIES

1.              Muffle: A Love Like Luna’s

LUNA & ASHER

2.              Minder: Olallie’s Offering

OLALLIE & LAWSON

3.              Metanoia: Calhoun’s Courage

AUGUST 2020

4.              Miffed: Kalonie’s Kalon

AUGUST 2020

5.              Memoriter: Leonie’s Latibule

SEPTEMBER 2020

6.Morosis: Lennox’s Hard Knocks

OCTOBER 2020

 

BLOOD OF BEAUTIES

1.              CHICAGO LEO
2.              TRUTH THAT TORTURES
3.              SOUR DIESEL

 

SONS OF ICE

1.              Sons of Ice (Kato & Saorise)

2. (Klyne & Niamh)

3. (Kael & Briella)

4. (Salo & Sasha)

5. Daughters of Flame (Kamara Styne & Caoimhe)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Laikyn Meng was born.

Award winning Indie Author, who creates intimate and edgy content.

Penning promise to the authentic voice for the New Adult genre.

Laikyn's unique tone perks up eager ears; a poetic dance with a dark flare.

Love language consists of the dictionary, making her a glorified logophile. Fascinated with the color orange. Enjoys funerals. Eternally an optimistic. Japanese at the knees, because only a quarter.

Momma to three descendants, in which they actively participate in living room dance offs. All angels, except Mister who is a Wolfe and Fiddler who is a Riddle. InnSaei now that one is an angel.

 

If there is but one thing you take from her characters and their worlds, is that you are never alone. Through every breakup, new experience, falling in love, becoming someone new, Laikyn as a writer is here for you.

Please be generous if you loved this story of hardship and personal growth. Leave a review!

 

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