Discover Top Posts Tagged with #im a mess bye

Oct 26, 2017

something is always burning inside of you; it is not terrible to burn.

- paige ackerson-kiely

Bryce’s Girl ;

It’s the sound of shouting that brings her to awaken with a start, sitting upright with eyes shooting open, something sticking to her cheek. Her hands shoot forward to catch herself upon the table, knuckles crashing sloppily into empty bottles that fall like a set of dominoes, threatening to roll onto the floor and smash. A hand reaches out to catch them, a black mark sitting upon the back of it, a familiar tattoo she’d never been able to figure out. Bryce sets the bottles right with an irritated sigh, glaring in her direction. “Go home,” he tells her as he peels the coaster from her face, “you’re getting in the way.”

“I’m up,” Max protests with a yawn, batting the hand in her face away with a much smaller one of her own. Seventeen again without a care in the world, sat in her favourite place beside the only person that matters. Where else would she rather be than here? “Ain’ missin’ tonigh’. Rumours sayin’ it’s goin’ t’ be a figh’ to remember.” Bryce snorts, taking up his own drink, knocking back the last of the strong liquid with one big gulp. “Fine,” he says, getting onto his feet. “Move it.” “It’s happenin’ already?” “You slept through the rest.” “Why didn’ you wake me up?” Max whines. “I was enjoying the peace and quiet.” “Asshat.” “What was that?” “I said dat’s fair, dat.” “That’s what I thought.”

Walking away from their table, Bryce begins to crack his knuckles against each of his palms and Max is soon quick to follow, mirroring the image quietly behind him, a look of pure glee upon her face. This was her favourite moment, the walk between table and ring. It’s where he changed from man to beast, something feral with a bite far worse than his bark. She couldn’t remember if he was fighting tonight, but the act alone never failed to leave her with goosebumps, a twitchy excitement running through her, twisting around in her stomach in the form of butterflies. She’d stand beside the ring as she always did, either to watch him fight and cheer the loudest to let everyone know he was the best, or to observe someone else, learning their tricks of the trade to report back.

Either way, Max makes to slip off to her favourite spot, only this time Bryce turns and puts a hand on her shoulder with a quirk of his brow. “Where are you going?” he questions firmly. “Where I usually go, idiot.” “Not tonight.” “Hm?” “You’re in the ring with me, kid.”

His grasp on her shoulder tightens and Bryce all but drags her with him to the ring, ignoring her protests and the way her fingers clawed at his. “You’re jokin’, righ’?” Max laughs nervously, “I ain’ allowed t’ figh’, remember? You said it yo’self.” The fighter doesn’t answer, turning to face her if only to scoop her into his arms to lift her over the ring’s ropes. He drops her in and Max hits the floor with a thump, lacking the speed to catch herself in time. The crowd laughs and begins to boo. “Some fuckin’ joke,” she grumbles, moving to crawl out of the ring. A hand grabs her ankle and pulls her back in and with a glance over her shoulder, the bald headed Ref grins down at her.

“Finally gettin’ what you wanted, eh Max?” he laughs, looking up to the crowd with a greedy grin. “Round one; Bryce Edwards VS Maxanne Price. Place your bets with the bookie, fight starts in two!”

He lets go of her ankle and makes to the edge of the ring, encouraging the crowd to put their money where their mouths are. Bryce climbs into the ring as focused as ever, watching how his ‘opponent’ scrambled to her feet with hard eyes. “Dis ain’ funny, cher!” Max yells out to him, but Bryce looks away, slipping off the jacket that should of been thrown into her hands. She always held his things, not some random in the crowd. That was her job and there’s a wonder to just what the hell he’s playing at. Max turns to climb out of the ring once more, only the bouncers now block her way.

That was the rule, wasn’t it? Once you were in the ring, you weren’t allowed to get back out.

“Fighters, get ready!” the Ref finally calls and Max watches Bryce raise his fists, the small smirk he so often gave her when she was outside the ropes perking upon his lips. The most she can do is stand there, baffled and frozen, wondering if he truly was about to do this. She’d always believed he’d never lay a hand on her. Would he really hurt her now?

The Ref counts them in and the bell rings. And Bryce doesn’t hesitate.

His fist finds her cheek first and it very well knocks her off her feet. He sighs with disappointment, looking down at her as she splutters, spitting blood from the inside of her mouth. “Get up,” he tells her, “get on your feet, Max.”

“Merde,” Max coughs, already so dizzy from just one hit. “You ain’t fuckin’ aroun’, are you?” Palms push into the concrete speckled with red and slowly, Max gets to her feet. She knew how Bryce fought by now, or... at least, she thought she did. Bryce swings again and clips her square in the jaw and she stumbles backwards, the ropes of the ring catching her. The bouncers push her forward and Bryce drives his knee into her stomach, knocking the air right out of her. Max swears she’ll never breathe again. The Alpha grabs her by a fistful of black hair and tosses her into the middle of the ring. The crowd goes wild.

And he would not hold back. Not for her.

“B-Bryce, wait--” she calls out, but the man is too far gone. Every fist felt like stone, her bones unable to take the weight. She curls in on herself, refusing to stand up despite his demands. It’s a foolish thing, perhaps, to allow herself to get beaten into nothing. But it was Bryce. How could she oppose him like that? Maybe there was a reason for the beat down. Maybe she’d stepped out of line again, or perhaps his patience had finally worn out. “Pathetic,” he hisses, tucking his foot under her stomach to flip her onto her back. Max tastes blood in her mouth, feels it collect at the back of her throat. Bryce wipes the crimson on his knuckles over his jeans. He’s disgusted, disappointed.

It hurts more than the broken bones.

The bell rings again and the crowd cheers, the noise fading into the background. A man climbs into the ring and stands beside Bryce, dark hair and dark eyes looking over her with scrutiny. “That was sad, Max,” he tells her, “I expected more.” He looks to Bryce, watching how he folds his arms over his chest, the black mark upon the back of one hand pulsing. “I suppose this means you’re done with her, then?”

Bryce looks down at the pitiful teenager and nods. “All yours,” he confirms. The dark haired man holds out his hand, a brown envelope laying in his palm. Bryce takes it, opens it with interest, a grin spreading on his face at the contents. “Ten percent, as promised,” the man tells him with a smile. “Nice doing business with you, Kaz.” “The pleasure is all mine.”

Kaz.

Max feels her blood run cold, her body begin to tremble. “Non, don’ you do this t’ me,” she pleads, a hand reaching out to the hunter with a cry. “Don’ let him take me again, please, please Bryce, don’ let him--”

But Bryce kicks her hand away and then, he does nothing. As he always did. He merely stands there, thumbing through the money in hand, far more interested in the notes than the way Kaz leans down to wrap cuffs around her wrists tight. He hooks a finger through the chain that joins them and gives it a good tug. “Bryce--” Max tries again, “Bryce, please don’ do this. Please don’.”

“I told you he gave you up,” Kaz says simply, “I told you he was never coming back for you. Ten percent, Max. That’s all it took. Ten percent and a beating. That’s all you’re worth.” “Non, he’s righ’ there,” Max screams, her feet kicking against the concrete, frantic and desperate as the man began to drag her away, blue eyes still glued upon the hunter, waiting for him to just move. “He’ll do somethin’, he will. I know he will. He tol’ me. ‘I’ve got you’. Tha’s wha’ he said.” “He didn’t leave, you know,” Kaz tells her, his tone so casual it’s cruel. “He sold you out. He willingly gave you to me before he left. He gave you up.” “He won’ let me down again.” “So what would you call this, then?”

Bryce pockets the money and turns his back on the pair. Max doesn’t stop screaming his name, even when Kaz dumps her into the trunk of his car, even when he slams the hood shut.

She still has hope.

Milah’s Girl ;

And it’s a hope that’s lost when eyes shoot open, her heart racing from sheer panic, the sound of an engine still humming in her ears. The light of day is too bright, blinding her after the darkness and Max leans back against soft pillows with a much needed breath, her throat sore and dry. She’ll blame the dream on a bad high, tell herself the drugs still cling to her system. Detox was a horrifying thing, after all. It wouldn’t surprise anyone.

Except, that was a long time ago, wasn’t it? For now she lays in pillow fort beside a brunette far more beautiful than any girl she’d ever seen. Milah sleeps soundly beside her, candy wrappers littered all around her. She always did build the best places to sleep, and whether she liked it or not, Max always found her way in. She’d make a joke about it being hard to resist when The Dealer looked so cute when she was sleeping, or how Max was her bodyguard and she must be close at all times.

But they both knew it was because the thief couldn’t sleep alone any more. The nightmares scared her too much.

And despite the groggy protests, Max buries herself against the other woman, snuggling close with her face in the crook of her neck, pressing her chilly nose against the other’s skin. She giggles when the other tries to squirm away, chasing after her with a grin. “Get off,” Milah groans, “you’re cold.” “Brrr. I know. Warm me up, ma cherie. I’m afrai’ I can’ feel my hands.” “Ugh. Off. Now.” “ Désolé, ma cherie. I’m so sleepy I can’ hear you. Did you say get closer?” Max ghosts cold fingers up the length of Milah’s arm, laughing when she flinches away and smacks the thief up side the head. “I hate you,” Milah claims, shaking the woman off to curl up again. “Oui, oui. I know,” Max grins.

Crawling out of the mess of blankets to leave the woman be, Max tiredly stands tall and stretches, arms above her head with the satisfying feel of her spine cracking. She couldn’t remember how long they’d been tucked away like that, ignoring the day and the life that came with it, and she didn’t care for it either. As long as she was with Milah, everything was as it should be.

She crosses the room to the window, looking out into the streets below. It’s an odd sight, to see traffic and people going about their business. It almost feels unfamiliar, as though it’d been a long time since she’d seen such a mundane thing. “Hey cherie, looks like your guy is back,” Max snorts, watching the detective’s car pull up, “he’s got his partner wit’ him, too. Wan’ me to go greet them an’ buy you some time?”

A silence answers, and Max sighs.

“Oi now, don’ ignore me, I know you ain’ asleep jus’ yet,” Max calls out, turning from the window to look back at the fort.

And it takes every ounce of strength she has left not to scream.

Kaz leans over Milah’s body, wiping a crimson knife upon a towel. She lays there with her throat slit, her eyes wide and empty, staring in her direction, her mouth hanging open as she chokes, drowning in her own blood. “It’s a shame,” Kaz says with a shake of his head, “I kind of liked her.”

Max leaves the window, scrambling across the room to her girl in a panic, pressing hands over the gash upon her neck. It’s a futile thing, the wound far too big for her efforts, waves upon waves of red crashing through her fingers. “Oh cherie, hol’ on,” Max whispers, tears spilling from her eyes, “jus’ hol’ on. Their comin’, they’ll help, you’ll be jus’ fine.” “Who’s comin’, Max?” Kaz asks, crouching down beside her. The thief ignores him, too focused on Milah to care. “Hang on Milah, jus’ hang on fo’ me a lil longer.” Milah wraps fingers around Max’s wrist, gagging on the red blocking the path to her lungs. “Jus’ a lil longer, cherie. Don’ you give up on me, now.”

A knock sounds at the door, knuckles rapping loudly against wood. “Chou, open up. It’s Detective--” “Tseng!” Max screams, “Daniel-- Daniel quick!” “Max?” “Ezra, please, cher. Please-- She’s goin’ to die-- Do somethin’! Please--”

A bang echoes throughout the room and the door shakes. One, two, three times more until the wood falls away from its hinges, the detectives standing in the door way. Ezra’s the first across the room, Daniel already requesting help as he enters close behind. “Max, move away from her,” he tells her gently, and Max simply shakes her head. “Non, you help her.” “Max--” “Help. Her.” “Max, she’s gone.”

She knows, for the hand grasping her wrist no longer holds tight. She knows, for she’s met with nothing but silence, her girl no longer choking beside her. The skin beneath her hands still remains warm with fading life, blood still oozing over her fingers. Max stares at Ezra, her head shaking slowly. “Non, you help her. You bring her back. Fix it,” she demands, but Ezra simply puts a hand upon her arm. “Max, what happened? Who did this?” he asks. “I can’ tell you.” I can’ do this. “Max--” “Non, I can’-- He’ll-- I can’ do it.” But I have to. I need to. “Kaz. His name is Kaz.” “Who--”

From the corner of her eye, a body drops into a heap. Daniel clutches his throat, crimson leaking onto the floor. She hears Ezra yell, but Max knows it’s already too late. He falls beside Milah, red spraying her clothes. Ezra presses a hand over his neck, the other clutching Max for help. “I always knew you were a street rat,” Kaz hums, coming up behind her, the bloody knife tucked under her chin. “But I didn’t think you were the kind that snitched.” “I’d o’ come wit’ you,” Max whimpers. “And you will,” he says, dragging the blade across her skin.

Nate’s Girl ;

Max screams herself awake, her hands wrapped around her throat. She kicks the sheets off her body as she scrambles, pressing herself against the expensive headboard. Blurred vision frantically searches the room, searches the space beside her. It’s the mansion, and she’s alone, a vague memory of someone that should be laying beside her throbbing away in her head. “Nate?” Max calls out, kicking herself for the way her voice shook. ‘When you fall, I’ll catch you’. “Nate, I--”

The thief draws in a shaky breath, pressing the palms of her hands against her eyes. A nightmare, nothing more. She had those all the time. Kaz always haunted her dreams, didn’t he? Always plagued her, even after all this time. But this felt different, as though it were real and it’s enough to force her from the bed in a swift movement, grabbing the knives she carried with her from the bedside table. She holsters one, but keeps the other firm in hand, her knuckles turning white from the grip.

It’s too quiet, she thinks. Something’s wrong.

With caution, Max leaves the bedroom, creeping into the hallway. Her footsteps made no sound and she tries with all her might to control her breathing, too. She was a thief, a good one. The shadows were her friend, the silence an ally. She shouldn’t feel so afraid, and yet, the skin of her arms raised with goosebumps, the hairs standing on end. It was wrong-- it was all wrong.

She slips down the hall silently, checking every room she passed for the soldier. He’d been off since the day before, refusing to give her anything more than a ‘I’m fine’. She hadn’t pushed, sure she didn’t have the right to. She’d simply drank with him, then fallen asleep beside him holding his hand. She wasn’t used to waking up without him, reveling in how he always seemed to be there, overprotective and a tad overbearing about every little thing she did. Max hadn’t minded one bit. His attention was hers, and that’s what mattered.

It takes her too long to notice, how every space was empty. The estate was huge, but there was always a chance to bump into somebody. There was always someone loitering around, looking for something to do, taking advantage of the luxury they’d been given despite how uneasy most of the group felt. For days now, Max had noticed it, unable to put a finger on what exactly was out of place, for every time she came too close, something distracted her. Something shiny and expensive, something she adored, something that appealed to her thieving heart and the fun she liked to have. It was enough to consistently throw her off the trail.

“Nate, you aroun’, darlin’?” Max calls out again, her voice trembling. This wasn’t right. If she called, he’d come running. If she fell, he’d catch her. If she needed him, he’d be there. He was never too far from her, not any more. They never allowed themselves to be.

And then, she hears it. The familiar sound of pain, the grunts and the groans and the yells of agony. She’d heard it on the battlefield, heard it in the cells between each word of comfort he’d tried to offer. The thief takes off running, her sprint silent, her other blade drawn as though they were nothing more than merely apart of her.

And if, back at the hotel, she’d been wrath running into a fight to protect him, she was now the ghost of fear, running into the unknown to save him.

Max skids around the a corner and skids to a halt, a long corridor she couldn’t remember seeing laid out before her, a door at the very end cracked open. Nate groans again, and it’s enough to push herself forward as fast as she could go. A gunshot rings out, a light flashing behind the door and Max bursts in moments later so violently the door swings back, crashing into the wall with a bang.

And Max begins to sob.

For she knows this room and knows it well; white walls, concrete floor, a simple length of rope hanging from the ceiling in the center. An assortment of tools lay upon a table, crusted with dark, brown stains; dried blood and matter clinging onto them. The smell of bleach clings to the air. This was the backroom at Marcus’ club. Kaz’s brother had a thing for the dramatics.

And hanging by his wrists, was Nate, broken and beaten just as she had once been when she’d been in his place. Except now, there’s a hole between his eyes, and he no longer fights.

Dropping one knife to the ground, the metal clattering against concrete, Max throws the other at the rope, well aimed despite how tears cloud her eyes. Nate falls to his knees, to his side and Max walks slowly to him, her feet dragging along the floor. She drops down beside the soldier, pulling his body into her arms. She pulls her sleeve over her hand, wipes away the blood around his mouth, upon his cheek, between his eyes. The green of his irises were dull, cloudy and lost. A sign of the dead, she supposed. She’d seen it before. Max rests a hand upon his cheek, her thumb brushing over the bone. It moved beneath her touch, broken and shapeless. Kaz steps into view, his knuckles bloodied and bruised, Nate’s gun in his hand.

“He was strong, I’ll give him that,” Kaz says thoughtfully, standing before her with a smile on his face. “But I guess, he wasn’t strong enough.” “Don’ you talk abou’ him like you know him,” Max snarls, though the sound leaves her mouth in such a pitiful way that the only thing Kaz does is laugh.

The monster crouches in front of her, looking down at Nate in her arms. Max curls herself protectively around him, shielding him from the cursed gaze Kaz often had. He raises the gun, sits the barrel comfortably between her own eyes.

The metal feels warm against her skin. “Je t’aime,” she whispers, pressing lips against Nates. “Always.” She hears the click of the safety being switched off. Next time, she tells Nate, I’ll get him next time. I promise.

She hears Kaz laugh once more.

Kaz’s Girl ;

A car alarm rings out somewhere and Max bolts upright, her head just missing the bathroom sink. The room is dim, the last rays of sunlight just managing to creep through the window, one last kiss before it said good night. The tap above the sink drips, drips, drips and Max rubs the bridge of her nose with a finger. It’s sore, every inhale through it a painful one, whether it be because her nose is bruised from a fight, or her lungs expanding beneath her ribs simply far too sore for it.

And as her mind begins to come back to her, Max pushes herself until she leans back against the tub, the cold porcelain a welcome feeling to what she could only presume was bruises upon her back too. It’s a familiar feeling, to be here like this. She didn’t need to look in the mirror to know. Kaz had gotten angry again, though the reason why was something she couldn’t recall. Perhaps she’d made a mistake again, or her attitude had gotten in the way. Either way, it was routine.

He’d break her until she remembered who she worked for again. He’d break her until she remembered who she belonged to.

Except, this time, Max didn’t feel broken. In fact, she didn’t feel anything at all. A cold, numb feeling sat in her chest, a detachment from the world a heavy one. She’d dreamt again, perhaps of another escape. There are names on her tongue she can’t put faces to any more, a group that she could of sworn meant something. Another cruel thing she’d imagined to torment herself with, she supposed.

People that cared.

It’s harder to remember as the minutes pass by, as dreams always faded in the end. It takes her longer to finally pull herself to her feet, clutching the sink for support. She’d been right; her face was a mess, her nose swollen and her eye black. Max lifts her shirt to check her ribs, and just as she’d thought, they were black and blue too. A tattoo sits upon her left, right next to her heart; two little feet in black ink. It’s a funny thing, for she can’t remember getting it or who it belonged to. Perhaps it was another drunk adventure? Max runs a tongue over her split lip and swears she tastes whiskey. Another mess, probably.

And like a well practiced routine, Max tosses her bloody clothes to the ground, stepping into the shower to get clean. Everything hurt, from skin to muscle to bone, each movement more excruciating than the last. He’d done a number on her for real this time and for the life of her, she can’t remember if she fought back. She liked to tell herself that the next time he raised a hand, she’d fight. She’d turn his lessons back upon him, leave him to rot in a pile for a change. But when the time came, she was always too afraid, too scared to move for the fear of what he’d do if she lost. “Coward,” Max hisses to herself, arms wrapped around her body protectively, “you’re a damn coward.”

Eventually, she leaves the safety of the water for the bedroom, slipping on an old, dirty band t-shirt and pants. She looks at herself in the bedroom mirror, the better light illuminating her features. She can’t help but wonder how she got here, how she’d let herself become a victim like this. In what world was this her fate? In what universe, did she allow herself to become so battered and bruised she could hardly recognize herself?

And it’s strange to think, how she’d awoken upon the bathroom floor -- as she always did after escaping the monster -- to a feeling of foreign strength, a fire burning beneath her skin, as if somehow, she didn’t belong here, not any more.

The apartment door opens and Max hears him enter, his boots heavy upon the wooden floor. She waits for the fear to build, the nerves to force her hands to shake.

It doesn’t come.

“Max, you up?” Kaz yells from the front room and Max simply nods, walking out to greet him with dull eyes. He looks up at her and grins, holding up a plastic bag, the smell of chinese food filling the apartment. “Noodles or curry?” “Does it matter?” “Yeah? Pick one.” “I ain’ hungry.” “Yeah, you are. So pick one.”

He doesn’t shout, but his voice is firm, and if there’s supposed to be a threatening tone behind it, Max doesn’t hear it. Not any more. She simply stares at him dangling a bag in the air, waiting for her to take it. She doesn’t, and instead she leans against the bedroom door frame. “What’s wrong now?” Kaz sighs, dumping the bag down on the small dining table they’d built together in the summer some time. It was recycled wood they’d somehow shaped into something decent. It’d taken two days, but she’d never laughed so much before.

“Wha’s wrong wit’ us?” Max asks him, looking up from the table and the memory to stare into those dark eyes forever filled with judgement. “Why do we keep doin’ this?” “Doing what? Eating?” “Kaz--” “Max, just pick a damn dish already.” “Sure, let me fin’ my teeth on the bathroom floor so I can eat firs’, oui?” “Don’t start.” “Or wha’, Kaz?”

The man curls fingers into his palms at his sides, clenches his jaw tight. “Maybe I went too easy on you,” he says quietly, as if the statement was for himself more than it was for her. “Easy? Merde, look at the state o’ me. You crushed me, again. An’ fo’ wha’?”

“The fuck has gotten into you today?” Kaz snarls, closing the space between them so quickly that Max steps back in surprise. She waits, once more, for the fear.

Once more, it doesn’t come.

Next time, I’ll get him next time, I promise, her own voice rings in her head. It’s defiant, strong and for the first time, it sounds like she means it. “Hey,” Kaz snaps, grasping her face with one hand, his fingers digging deep into her already bruised cheeks. “I said, what the fuck is going on with you?” Max stares deeper into his eyes, her brows furrowing. “Talk.” “Looks like you’re losin’ your touch, mon ami,” Max says slowly within his grasp.

Kaz growls, letting go of her face to take hold of her shirt, dragging her out from within the bedroom to slam her against the wall. Her head rocks back, hits the plaster hard, and still, she doesn’t shake. Still, she doesn’t fear him. Instead, she grins. And Kaz doesn’t like that one bit.

He draws a fist back, aims to swing it down upon her face. But somehow, Max is quicker than before, perhaps even more experienced. She escapes his grasp in an instant, hears the fist collide with the wall instead. Kaz yelps in surprise and the smile upon Max’s face only grows wider.

Next time, I’ll get him next time. I promise. ‘If you fall, I’ll catch you.’

Together, or not at all.

Nate.

“I’ve got somewhere I need t’ be,” Max tells Kaz, sauntering across the room to grab her bag and her keys. “This ain’ where I belon’ no more.” She didn’t know where he was, only that he existed. He had to. She remembered the warmth against her lips when he kissed her; so light and delicate and then again when she went back for more, his hands pulling her closer, hesitance to the wind.

She wants it back.

“You’re out of your fucking mind. You’re not going anywhere,” Kaz yells, and Max hears him behind her, coming up fast. And it’s now, she realises, just how predictable he truly is. How predictable he always was. She’d watched him fight many a time, for Christ’s sake. How hadn’t she seen it before?

He throws a punch, and Max ducks. She spins on the heel of her foot. Her elbow finds his stomach and she drives it in hard. He doubles over, and she follows with a knee to the groin. He falls then, and falls hard. The noise that escapes is perhaps the sweetest one she’d ever heard him make.

“I’m tryin’ to remember, cher,” Max starts to say, skipping on her feet when Kaz lashes out. “I’m tryin’ to remember wha’ made me so afraid o’ you in the firs’ place.”

Nightmares, he was always in her nightmares. A big, monstrous thing that could hurt her without trying. He would always find her, always.

And yet, he never did. She remembers the beautiful brunette from her dream, snuggled away in a blanket fort, fast asleep beside her. Milah. She’d been with her for so long and yet, Kaz had never showed his face. He could of, and maybe somewhere he’d made a choice not to. But there was always a chance, always an opportunity and yet-- He’d never taken it. He’d never come back.

Kaz grasps her ankle, attempting to drag her off her feet. Max hops once and brings her foot into the air, bringing it down upon his fingers. She hears them pop, hears them break, hears him wince in pain. “I’m thinkin’ it was ‘cause I was so young. You took advantage o’ tha’. I didn’ have anyone to hide behin’ any more. It’s funny, non? Bryce was gone an’ yet, he was always wit’ me. Taugh’ me not to go down wit’out a figh’, he did. An’ here I am.”

And Bryce? He’d come back, in a way. She’d found him again, walking casually by as if the world was still whole. Because it wasn’t, was it? This apartment didn’t exist any more. Not really. It was ruin and nothing more, or so she’d hoped. And there’s a wonder now if perhaps, this was another dream. Another adventure in her fear of Kaz.

For now she remembers the ring and the bruises Bryce had left behind, how her broken bones had crumbed as she’d been dragged across the ground. She remembered the blood upon her hands from Milah, the spray upon her clothes from Ezra. She remembered the mansion and all it’s glory, the long hallway with the white room at the end, Nate hanging by his wrists.

And she remembers more now, Bryce’s smile as they sat upon a hospital bed, cans of fruit in their hands, his thumb running circles upon her knee whilst she lay back and floated along with whiskey in her veins. Perhaps the first perfect moment they’d ever shared.

She remembers Milah standing in the doorway of the the kennels, smug grin on her face at the shock Max had portrayed at the very idea of being rescued, never mind by the dealer herself. She remembers planting kisses on the woman’s cheek, remembers being trusted with protecting her, remembers how she relies on her for so much more than a job.

She remembers Sam and the way his cheeks flourished with colour any time she teased him, how awkward he was with anything but simple talk. She remembers Wes, his laughter and their childish game, the way he’d whistled to her song but fallen quiet the moment she’d began to sing. He’d listened to her -- nobody listened to her. She remembered Ezra and his steadfast ways, how he and Daniel had done so much for her without even realising, how they’d helped Mikey pull her out of the dark. Mikey. Sweet, sweet broken Mikey and his calloused hands, pulling out the glass beneath her skin bit by bit, teaching her once more what a soft touch felt like. She remembered Eli and his dumb jokes, so high he hadn’t noticed how many panic attacks he’d calmed her down from, how he’d made her laugh for the first time in years. She remembered Ellie, how her confidence inspired her own, how she made her feel like she could be whoever she wanted to be and it’d be just fine, that everything would be alright. She remembers Jae, she remembers Zoe, she remembers Violet and the others.

And most of all, she remembers Nate, and how it’s he who holds her heart. That it’s he she’d fallen in love with. The dinner he still owed her, the bottles of whiskey they’d somehow never managed to finish for they found themselves in each other’s arms, exchanging kisses and small bouts of laughter. How it’s his arms she’d fall asleep in, how it’s within his arms the nightmares didn’t come. He made her feel safe. He made her feel loved. How he kept Kaz away without knowing he’d existed.

She remembers her life without Kaz. She remembers herself without Kaz.

Powerful, strong, alive.

The man upon the floor gets to his feet, Max far too lost in herself to notice. He slips an arm around her throat and holds it there, and Max hears his voice breathing over her ear. “You’re mine,” he snarls, “and you’ll never leave me again.”

“Non, cher,” Max says calmly. “I ain’ yours. Ain’ nobodys, neit’er.”

She was her own, nothing more and nothing less.

And with a rage building in her chest, Max feels the marks upon her back begin to burn as cold as ice, the prickling feeling spreading over her shoulders and down her arms. It spreads across her body, the icy blue light flickering to life, flames dancing upon her skin. She hears Kaz scream and recoil in horror, letting her go as blue wings fan out beneath her shoulder blades, curling around in her a cold inferno.

“What the fuck are you?” Kaz shouts, shielding his face with his hands. “I don’ know, cher,” Max sighs, looking down at the fire on her arms. “Mais, Eli was righ’, weren’ he? This does give me an edge.”

As the wings spread and curl, icy flames catch the furniture around them. It catches alight, spreading like wild fire, leaving a frozen trail in its path. Kaz begins to panic, falling to his knees with fear behind her. Max merely turns and looks at him, a small smile on her face. “I should thank you,” she tells him, to which Kaz looks up with a terrified frown. “For what?” “Helpin’ me realise I don’ have to be afraid no more. I ain’ alone, mais... I’m doin’ jus’ fine, me.” Max looks around at the burning apartment, the chill leaving ghosts of her breath to linger in the air. “This is good, isn’ it?”

The inferno riots through the apartment, freezing everything in its wake. It shatters like glass into stardust, the room falling apart around her. The flames catch Kaz’s leg, creeping up his torso in a blaze. And Max watches, waiting for the moment that he too becomes trapped in an icy prison and she hopes that perhaps, it’s a reflection of the places he’d left her. A cold, dark room, bloody and beaten upon the floor. And when he’s frozen solid and no longer moving, Max kneels down before him, as he had in that place with the white walls, a rope hanging in the center, reaching out a hand.

She flicks the ice and watches it crack, grins as it crumbles into pieces, taking Kaz with it.

Max stands, waiting for the flames to claim her too.

“Oui, this ain’ bad at all.”

Nobody’s Girl ;

Upon the bedroom floor, Max awakens, shaking so violently with a cold she couldn’t understand. Her chest rose and fell in jagged breaths all too quickly, small clouds of air forming in front of her face before fading, as though she’d been out in cold weather for a while. Her head spins, reeling in a rush of memories she can’t piece together. Her back aches with a cold burn and for a moment, there’s a fear that she lost herself to the blue again.

Sitting up and with the help of her feet pushing against the ground, Max forces herself to move until her back hits a wall. She brings her knees beneath her chin, fighting desperately to claim some warmth back. She wheezes, dizzy and delirious, unable to calm herself down.

Footsteps enter the room and Max looks up with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Did I get away?” she asks slowly. “Am I free?”

#event: house of horrors #; para #abuse tw /#blood tw /#gore tw /#it's mild but just in case #death tw /#yeah this is long as shit please dont feel like you have to read it #i got carried away #final word count of 6360 #im a mess bye

rustedethereal