The Isle Of Sin And Shadows - Keri Lake Page 0,128
choice to marry my mother. Story goes, they even tried paying him to stay away from her. But the two claimed to be in love.
I scoff at that, making my way into the bathroom halfway down the hall from my bedroom. What the hell is love, anyway? Fleeting moments of adoration smothered in pain and disappointment.
Love is a curse. Nothing but a sick reminder of how weak the heart is. How poisonous its desires.
I flip on the shower, letting the water heat up, and peel off the sweat-drenched T-shirt clinging to my body. In the mirror’s reflection, I examine the minor loss of muscle mass I’ve been able to hide beneath all the gear, and the dark circles under my eyes. The toll my father’s disappearance has taken in the last couple of months. Not that we were all that close, but I always thought he was a slightly better man than the kind who’d up and leave without a word. Must’ve been one hell of a piece of ass to make him skip town like that.
No pussy I’ve ever had was that good.
I step inside the shower, letting the heat pummel my aching muscles, and rest my forehead against the tiles. Eyes closed, I try to visualize every play for this weekend, a method my coach encourages--actualization to manifestation.
The sound of a scream snaps me out of those thoughts, and I lift my head from the tiles, frowning. Wondering if the sound was all in my head.
Another scream, this one louder than before.
Urgency riding my muscles, I flip off the shower and nab the towel hanging on the door’s hook, wrapping it around me as I race out of the bathroom, down the hall and staircase. At the foot of the steps, I slow my pace on noticing the front door wide open, and eyes trailing over my surroundings, I round the bannister and head down the hallway toward the kitchen.
Sitting at the table, with her arms bound behind her back, my mother stares back at me with a bruised eye and blood trickling from her lip.
Panic pounds through my blood as I lurch toward her. Something grabs my arm. I blindly swing my fist, connecting with the jaw of a stranger standing behind me. Blood sprays from his nose as I hammer him with a second punch.
My mother screams
More arms reach out for me, capturing my wrists behind my back. I wriggle to break free and kick out at one of the men binding me, managing to free my arm. A third takes hold of it before I can swing again. With both my arms bound, the man whose nose I probably broke slams his fist into my stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs. Another punch cracks against my cheek in an explosion of light behind my eyes, and my jaw feels as if it’s come unhinged. Another punch follows the second, in the same trajectory, sending a zap of pressure shooting up into my sinuses. My mother’s sobbing grows distant beneath the ringing in my ears, and a dizziness claims my balance. At the fourth punch, I’m seeing dots floating before my eyes, and this is when the men wrangle me to the floor.
Cold tiles crash against my cheek, as a knee presses hard against the back of my neck and holds me in place.
Boots step into my periphery and I follow them to see one of the men, wearing a black tank, striding toward my mother. Only the heavier-set of the three holds me down now, but with my hands twisted behind my back, and my inability to move my neck without snapping it beneath his knee, it’ll be impossible to fight him off.
“Let him go, please. He’s my son. He has not’in’ to do wit’ dis. S'il te plaît.”
“Where is he? Where’s Russ?” The man asking the question is one of the two who held my arms moments ago. Tall, muscular, with a Spanish accent, he looks like a criminal dressed in black, his skin covered in a multitude of tattoos. A dangerous criminal.
“I tol’ you before, I don’ know. I don’ know!” My mother glances down to me and back to him. “I would tell you if I knew.”
Without hesitation, he drives his fist into my mother’s face, knocking her head to the side.
“No! No!” Hands bound behind my back, I wriggle beneath the weight of the bastard holding me down. “Leave her the fuck alone!”