My fingers search the bumpy tiled floor when they come across a small plastic bag. I pull it up and narrow my eyes at the remaining traces of white powder sticking to it.
So this is what they use to make us obedient. To make us murder machines.
With repulsion, I scoop out some of the powder. I don’t want it anywhere near me and yet there’s a kind of morbid curiosity making me want to taste it, see for myself what it can do.
I lick it off my fingers, my heart pounding in my chest. The powder kicks in quickly, filling me with the desire to kill something. My fists tighten so much my nails dig into my skin, leaving bloody crescent moons in my palms. This shit is stronger. And I fucking recognize it.
I remember an event that happened a few weeks ago.
I was meeting with a supplier by the docks with my uncle, and they were transporting this shit somewhere. I know, because my uncle forced me to sniff some off the edge of a knife, just like he did.
“Careful now, Heath,” he’d told me with an ice-cold smirk. “This shit might kill you if you’re not careful.”
Remembering the moment now makes me feel fucking sick. Was he already planning on doing this to me back then? Did he know at that moment he’d leave me for dead, allowing some messed up pricks to drag me into their sick, twisted game of playing God?
He must have.
Shutting my eyes as the drugs courses through my body, I remember my parents. Xavier’s brother, my father, who was kind, always laughing and never too busy for me.
Xavier always envied my father. After all, father was the rightful heir to the cartel. And with me in the world, Xavier didn’t stand a chance of inheriting the business.
But now he’s made sure I’m out of the picture, confirming he never gave a shit about me.
Why even save me from the wreckage of that car accident? He risked hurting himself in the process and he bears the scars to prove it. But it’s useless wondering about that now. It’s too late.
My mind conjures up the image of a pale girl, her face covered in freckles, her hair golden, and her eyes blue. She smiles at me in the fantasy, telling me everything’s going to be okay.
The drug makes my mind hazy and yet through it all; I remember her - my Rain.
Clinging on to that memory with absolute desperation, I realize I can never let go of it.
I need to remember Rain and make her my driving force, my reason for getting the hell out of here. I need to escape, need to get the hell out before these monsters sink their teeth into me and make me one of their own.
I will not succumb to their cheap tricks - not the drugs or the fighting. Whatever they throw at me, I’ll be ready, never allowing them to break me like my uncle probably predicted.
I’ll stay strong and save Rain. I have to.
After all, she’s all I have left.
Chapter 7
RAIN
After Heath realizes who I am, things change for me.
First off, I’m shown from the dingy basement room into a beautiful suite on the first floor. This one has an adjoining bathroom. The suite is luxurious, reminding me of my room back at Xavier’s. We never shared a bedroom - at least I have that to be grateful for.
The moment a guard shows me to my new quarters, I want to cry in relief. Instead, I wait patiently for him to lock me in my new prison before getting into the bath. I load up the tub with vanilla-scented oil and get in. The hot water feels like therapy for my sore muscles. I don’t allow myself to think about Heath until the stress from the last few days slowly wears off, and the water softens my skin and my anger.
Once I’m finally able to breathe again, I allow my mind to race as I remember everything that happened. How Heath treated me. All the messed up shit he made me go through, proving to me he’s no better than his uncle. He’s a monster, just like Xavier. Whatever happened to him in the years that he’s been away had turned him into a beast.
I take great care in washing my body. I dry my hair, finally back to its natural color, and allow it to fall down my back in thick golden waves. There’s makeup in the room, but I ignore it. Instead, I put on a floral dress from the closet in the bedroom and a pair of flat sandals. The dress is modest, and I’m grateful for that. Xavier would never allow me to be covered up like this. He was always too intent on showing me off to allow me any modesty.