Tongue (Ruthless Kings MC #8) - K.L. Savage Page 0,88
a body pull itself out of the wall. The arm is grey, rotted, as if the body has been decaying for years. The hair is long, wet, and tangled. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to shake the warped reality in front of me.
It’s not real. I’m fine.
“Oh, what do you see?”
“Nothing,” I whisper, then stare down at my wrists. The zip-ties he put on me earlier were too tight, so he did me a favor and cut them off, so I could eat. My ankles are still bound, and the ties are digging into my skin so much that I can’t feel my toes.
“Liar.” He pounds his fist on the table, making me flinch and hunch over. The pieces f hair he cut off yesterday hang in my face, it’s so short.
Will Tongue love me anymore? Will he find me imperfect? I don’t care that all of it seems unhealthy to others, but to me it is. He’s the nutrition my soul needs in order to thrive. I won’t fall victim to the sickness in my head.
The woman lifts her head, and her hair parts to show her face. “Mom,” I try not to cry when I see her for the first time in years. I’ve missed her so much.
She isn’t real.
“You can always see her here, you know,” he says, clapping his hands in excitement. “You won’t ever have to go without seeing your mother again. Don’t you want that? Don’t you miss your mommy?”
“She’s dead.”
“She isn’t dead here,” he taps my temple. “She comes to life for you. Don’t you know how fucking beautiful that is? How jealous I am that you can see someone you love? Imagine the conversations you could have, the happiness you could feel.”
He’s right.
I could be happy.
I have missed my mom.
A little girl shouldn’t have to be without her mother. I think…now that I really think about it, I think she’s why my mind broke. Losing her was by far the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through.
A chunk of me died that day, fermenting a part of my brain for the rest of my life because of grief. I’m forever changed. I’ll forever be sick. I’ll always have this dread inside me that I’ll hallucinate, but what if this is my new reality? What if I’m meant to be this way?
Paths of the future change, grow, and shrivel, but at the end of the journey, the same place waits for you no matter how many different ways you try and become better. One way or another, life is planned. There isn’t a secret way out. There isn’t a magical button to try and get away from who you are meant to be.
Who you are is who you will always be. People can’t change, and if they do, they are lying too, because the need is inside them, gnawing, clawing, begging to give in to the person they used to be.
A murderer will always murder.
A rapist will always rape.
A thief will always steal.
And I will always have psychosis.
What I love about Tongue? He has never once tried to be anything other than who he is. He tried to stay away because he knew he couldn’t be anything other than the stone-cold killer than he is. He isn’t fake. He doesn’t pray for forgiveness, if anything, he summons the damn devil because, holy moly, only something wicked could answer someone so dark.
Maybe I should give in.
Maybe I shouldn’t pretend anymore.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
I look away from my mother, who is filthy and looks like she just crawled out of the grave, and stare at my kidnapper. I blink, a tear catching on my lower lash line as I try to figure out what to say to him. “Who are you? What do you want with me? What did I do to you? What did Tongue do? Why did you bury him?”
“So many questions for a woman who is questioning if she is really here,” he taunts.
“I know I’m here. You don’t know much about my condition if you think that’s the case. You won’t be able to trick me into thinking otherwise.”
“Power of persuasion is a beautiful thing and as for Tongue, did he not tell you about me? Did the club does not whisper in your ear about Halloween?”
I turn away and stare at my mom again. The gown we buried her in is disintegrating and I can’t even see the color it used to be. It’s been