Rely on Me - Elizabeth Knox Page 0,23

his voice, and the way he tried to mock me . . . to make me feel like he would’ve shown me mercy by trapping me in one of his cages. The fact things like this exist in this world makes my stomach turn. Why people do things like that . . . I have no idea.

I sink down to the bottom of the shower, pull my knees to my chest and lay my head down against my legs. The water hits me on the back of my neck and flows down. The warmth goes over my entire body while I Survived by New Years Day fills the air. How fitting.

Taking in a deep breath I contemplate everything that’s happened over the last year and a half and remember the new information I was told last night. I’m still caught in disbelief, shock even. Does Taylor know about any of this, or is it all Marco’s doing? I know they blame me for losing the baby, but it wasn’t my fault. The doctors even told us that. They said unfortunately it happens, that there was nothing we could’ve done differently.

It wasn’t just their child. It was mine too— part of me. I know I wouldn’t have been in its everyday life, but they acted like I didn’t care . . . like how dare I be upset. No one will know what it’s like to go through childbirth, knowing your baby won’t be going home with you. Knowing you won’t be pumping for a growing little one, knowing you won’t be hearing giggles, or seeing smiles, or experiencing those happy moments.

When I adopted out my daughter to her parents they still made it a point to send me updates, showing me how she was doing and progressing. I wasn’t there experiencing it with them one-on-one like I was supposed to with Taylor and Marco. What they don’t realize is that I’m still reeling with grief, hating what happened. Fuck, I went to therapy for it. I still do. Every two weeks I speak with my therapist, Tracey, and we talk about a plethora of things. Some days it’s nothing, while other days our session is filled with so much.

I’m not stupid, those men . . . they had to have been sent by Marco. Especially if what Mammoth and Mugshot said was right. Who knows, they could’ve been sent by Marco and Taylor. But the one man said boss, not bosses . . . so maybe Taylor isn’t involved at all. I sure hope he isn’t.

Taking in a deep breath, I rise from sitting, never being more thankful I have a few days off. I stare at the gray tile, flashes of last night plaguing my mind.

We were friends.

Taylor and I were so fucking close, and we went from that, to what? This.

I realize my music has been through a few tracks at this point, considering Shut Up by New Years Day is like the tenth song on my playlist. The lyrics talk about deception and being tricked, amongst other things. But there’s a part where it changes a bit, talking about if the protagonist ever gave a fuck about her, they’d shut up and listen.

Goosebumps rise over my shoulders and forearms while the lyrics resonate with me. The betrayal, the way they’re obviously out for blood. I don’t understand how things could shift from what we were to this, where they obviously want to kill me. Things like this are supposed to be fiction. They aren’t supposed to be real.

I slam my hand against the tile, angered beyond belief. Then I do it again, and again, and again, until a pair of hands wrap around my torso and arms, holding me in place. Long brown hair cascades over my shoulder and I know he’s here.

“I won’t have you hurtin’ yourself.” He states in a deep voice. His body is pressed against mine, his shirt now soaked, sticking against my bare back.

“I hate this,” I declare.

“I know.”

“I don’t understand how this is even feasible, how this cruelty actually exists.”

Mammoth doesn’t speak this time. Or at least, he doesn’t for a moment. I start to speak again when he clears his throat. “The world is filled with evil of all sorts, Mouse. The important thing is to not let evil pull you down with it. You have allies who will protect you. Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Why won’t you?” I question, not understanding why this man who