Crave Me

  All lies.

  Every last one of them.

  But I didn’t stop her.

  I broke down until I couldn’t anymore.

  She told me that she didn’t remember anything either. She told me that everything was going to be okay. She told me that she loved me over and over again. She told me everything I wanted to hear, everything I needed to hear. It should have made me feel better.

  It didn’t.

  After she left, I sat there by myself. I couldn’t get my mind to shut off, I couldn’t get my feelings to stop attacking me, turning on me and making me feel like a bigger piece of shit than I already knew I was.

  Regret…

  Remorse…

  Shame…

  Almost. Killing. Alex.

  I reached for the morphine drip.

  And pressed the button.

  Briggs

  I jumped as soon as I heard the knock on the door. The loud noise startled me even though I knew it was coming at any moment. It still didn’t prepare me. Nothing did. I held in my breath the entire time not wanting to make a sound, trying to remain calm in the chaos. Not allowing it to take me further and further into the black abyss. Praying that my uncle would accept my silence and just go away. I jumped again with the second knock, my nerves were on fire and all that did was pour gasoline on the fear that had taken up residence in my body, igniting it more.

  “Daisy…”

  My heart dropped.

  The pounding rhythm immediately subsided and it was replaced with an unfamiliar feeling. A feeling I couldn’t quite place, it didn’t scare me, but it didn’t comfort me either.

  “Daisy, open the door. It’s me.”

  It’s me.

  He said it like it made a difference, like it took away the last few hours of my life, like he didn’t play a part in the turn of events tonight and like he wasn’t one of the reasons I was there in the first place. As if saying “It’s me” made it all go away and magically better. Trying to put a Band Aid on my soul, when it was already broken beyond repair.

  “Daisy, please… just open the fucking door,” he wallowed, his voice wrecked and torn.

  My feet moved on their own accord, my body being pulled by a string. Drawing me closer and closer to the door. Before I knew it I pushed my dresser out of the way and turned the knob. I instantly jerked back, assaulted with the strong scent of alcohol. Esteban was leaning on the wall beside my door, one arm propped up with his forehead pressed against the drywall, his other hand still in the air ready to knock again.

  It took him a second to realize I had opened the door. Angling his head slightly to look at me, we locked eyes, our expressions mirroring each other. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen. I couldn’t tell if it was from crying or from the bottle of whiskey that was still firmly clutched in his grasp. We stood there for a while not saying anything. Words weren’t necessary. Our eyes spoke for themselves.

  And his spoke volumes.

  “I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathed out. Desperation and sadness written all over his face, I had never seen him like that before.

  It physically pained me to see him that way. The once strong, solid man was gone. All that was left in his place was a man nearly on his knees begging for forgiveness.

  “Where is he?” I asked, needing to know.

  “Gone. For now, anyway.”

  “How could you do this to me?” I whispered, my eyes filling with fresh tears.

  He shook his head, averting his eyes to the floor. Not able to look at me anymore.

  “Did you think I had a choice, Daisy? We’re more alike than you realize,” he paused to let his words sink in. “This life. It’s yours whether you want it to be or not. It’s the shitty cards you were dealt. All you can do is embrace it, because if you don’t, it will bury you alive. I could have warned you. I could have told you to leave. I could have done a lot of things… but in the end, it doesn’t matter. You’re already nailed to the cross.”

  I vigorously shook my head.

  Back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  “Fuck you,” I scoffed, snapping his attention back to me again. “Do you hear me? Fuck. You!” I screamed not caring who heard me. Tears streamed down my cheeks and fell to the floor between us, along with my jaded heart and fucked up soul.

  I turned around and went back into my room, needing to sit down. I sat on the edge of my bed defeated, hating that he was right, hating that I had no choice, hating that this was my life now.

  I hated my uncle, but I hated myself even more.

  I bawled. I sobbed so hard that my body convulsed and I couldn’t breathe. The walls were crashing down all around me. Hyperventilating and sucking in air that wasn’t available for the taking, drowning in my own despair. Asking God why, why I deserved this? Beginning to think he didn’t even exist.

  I felt fingers caress the side of my face, wiping away my tears that kept falling, one right after the other. I peeked up through wet lashes and blurry eyes, Esteban was on his knees in front of me.

  “I’m so fucking sorry,” he rasped, his own voice breaking.

  That’s when I really lost it.

  That’s when it really hit me.

  It was all a lie.

  No God.

  No family.

  No love.

  I was all alone. Abandoned. By myself.

  I trembled, my body giving out on me. Any ounce of strength I had left vanished. He pulled me into his strong, solid arms. A place I was so familiar with. The only comfort I’ve ever known since the day I died. I sobbed uncontrollably, my vision blurred and my throat locked up, becoming so raw, so dry, so torn into pieces that I would never be able to be put back together. He held me tighter, trying like hell to save me from myself.

  “Please… please…” I begged, shuddering against his chest.

  I wanted something, anything, to keep me from feeling the emotions that were dragging me down, deeper and deeper into the pits of Hell.

  Standing right by my uncle.

  Where a part of me knew I belonged.

  “What can I do?” he commiserated, pulling back, placing his warm hands on either side of my face, to look deep into my eyes. “Tell me, what I can fucking do and I will do it, Briggs. For you.”

  It was the first time he ever called me that and I would be lying if I said I didn’t yearn to hear him say Daisy.

  I blinked away my tears, swallowing back the sobs to gaze at the only man who has ever given a damn about me. The only man who had ever been my friend, my protector, my confidant, my everything.

  He was all I’d ever known.

  “I want to be the hero of my own story, Esteban. I crave to feel what they feel even for just a night, and you're the closest person who resembles affection in my life,” I half-whispered.

  I leaned in on pure impulse and looked into his vacant eyes, searching for something. I felt him lightly gasp before I brushed my lips against his, kissing him. My inexperienced lips moved against his for a few seconds before he finally started to kiss me back. It was the first time I had ever kissed anyone. It felt different than I had imagined it would, a sensation like nothing I could ever describe and for a few fleeting moments it took away the pain in my heart.

  He shook his head, pulling away from me, pushing me back and I whimpered at the loss of his lips.

  “We can’t do this.”

  “You want to make this better? Me better? I need you to take away the bad, silence the chaos in my head. Please…”

  His conflicted stare never left mine as I reached for his shirt. He didn’t say a word or move a muscle when I started unbuttoning it one by one until it was fully open. I took in his hard naked chest for the first time, the contours of his abs, his tan skin that was so much darker than my white complexion.

  I reached for the bottom of my tank top and his hand instantly stopped me.

  “Daisy,” he warned in a voice I didn’t recognize.
/>
  “I know… this doesn’t change anything. I’m not looking for you to whisper sweet nothings in my ear, Esteban. I don’t need you to make love to me. I know where we stand. I just need this from you right now.”

  It’s never this hard for the heroines in my books. They make it seem so easy.

  Am I wrong? Is this a mistake? Am I going to regret this?

  I closed my eyes and pulled my tank top over my head, before either of us gave what I’d just said anymore thought. Tossing it aside, I felt a chill on my bare breasts. I reached for my cotton shorts and slid them down with my panties, flinging them both aside as well.

  When I was fully undressed, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. I would never forget the look on his face for as long as I lived. It was the first time anyone had ever looked at me like that.

  “You’re beautiful,” he coaxed with hooded eyes and a sad smile.

  I blushed, not used to the praise. I could sense his resolve as his eyes took me in. I could feel his thoughts raging a war in his mind, so I leaned in again before he could give it anymore thought. Taking away the need to feel anything other than what was wreaking havoc on my soul.

  I leaned back against the bed, bringing him with me. My hands pressed against his chest when I felt his weight on top of me. I ignored the smell and taste of alcohol that radiated off his breath, knowing that it was impairing his decision between right and wrong.

  I wanted this.

  I needed this.

  It was wrong, but it didn’t matter because in that moment it felt right, and that’s all that mattered to me.

  We kissed and touched each other, getting lost in the moment, getting caught up in the way we were making each other feel. His hands were everywhere and all at once, like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch me the most. I sought comfort in the false illusion he was letting me have, and reality hit the second I felt his dick at my entrance. It all became clear that this was really happening.

  And I welcomed it with open arms.

  He leaned his forehead against mine and groaned, “Are you sure? This is what you want?”

  I smiled against his lips, nodding. Kissing him hard once again. He thrust in slowly, and carefully, knowing that this was my first time. I held back the urge to whimper, not wanting him to stop but to keep going and make me feel the promises of what his hands already brought me.

  When he was fully inside of me, he let out a deep, long breath. “Are you okay?” he murmured in between kissing me.

  I nodded again, not being able to form the words for what I was thinking, let alone feeling. The sounds of our bodies coming together echoed in the room, filling the silent void. Once the stinging diminished, a new bubbling feeling crept into my lower abdomen.

  I moaned and my head fell back, allowing him to kiss, lick, and suck.

  His hand reached down between us to touch me and I swear I thought I was going to die.

  Right then and there.

  “Oh my God,” I panted.

  I couldn’t take it anymore.

  The way his thrusts devoured me, the way his fingers played with me, the way his kisses consumed me, was far too much for me to control. The room started to spin and my breathing faltered. I felt like I was coming apart and being ripped open all at the same time, barely being able to control my movements, let alone my breathing.

  I made all sorts of noises that seemed foreign coming out of my mouth. The room caved in on me, as spasms consumed my body, taking me to the edge and all I wanted to do was fall.

  I was almost there…

  So close…

  Just one more…

  “Ah—”

  “YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!” Uncle roared, taking something else away from me.

  I screamed, jolting out of my skin. Esteban was roughly ripped away from me and I saw his body being thrown across the room. His back hit the wall so hard it tore through the drywall. My uncle didn’t falter, he picked him up and slammed him up against the doorframe, and I heard a loud crack.

  I was frozen in place with the sheet covering my naked body. I sat there watching my only friend, get ripped away from my life.

  I couldn’t move.

  I couldn’t speak.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes off the brutal scene in front of me. As if I was watching a train wreck unfold and not being able to look away.

  “YOU PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT! AFTER EVERYTHING I’VE DONE FOR YOU!” My uncle roared, picking him up off the ground again and punching him in the face repeatedly.

  Esteban’s body lay lax against my uncle’s strong grip. He punched him in the stomach causing the beaten man to fall forward, crumbling to the ground. He bent down flipping him onto his back and straddled his waist, beating him to an inch of his life.

  Because of me.

  More blood on my hands.

  “NO!” I screamed, loud enough to break glass. “PLEASE! STOP! PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU! I’LL DO ANYTHING! ANYTHING!”

  My uncle ignored me and continued his assault on Esteban’s face and body. When he finally stopped to stand, I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking I’d won. That I got through to him.

  I didn’t.

  He reached into the back of his slacks and pulled out his gun, aiming it right at Esteban’s head.

  “NO!” I cried out.

  I lunged into action, jumping off the bed and throwing myself in front of the gun. That was now placed directly on my forehead. My body shielding what was left of Esteban’s life.

  “Get the fuck out of my face,” he gritted through a clenched jaw.

  “No! Please! Please! Please! I’m begging you. It wasn’t his fault.” I got down on my knees, tucking the sheet under my arms, setting my hands in prayer gesture out in front of me. “I’m begging you, pleading with you on my hands and knees to please not do this! Please, Uncle! You don’t have to do this!” I bellowed through tears.

  He scoffed. “You think your pitiful performance is going to work on me? You don’t know me, peladita. Get the fuck off the floor before I make you, and trust me, you don’t want it to come to that.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  He cocked his head to the side as if no one had ever said that to him.

  “You look like a fucking whore on your knees. NOW, GET THE FUCK UP!”

  I shook my head again. “No.”

  “What? You love him? You love that piece of shit?” He pointed to Esteban’s lifeless body.

  I swallowed, hard. “No, Uncle. I don’t,” I answered the truth.

  His head jerked back, stunned. He believed me.

  “So, you are a whore,” he stated. “Your mother would be so proud.”

  I frowned not wavering. “Please. Please, don’t do this. Not for me, okay? You don’t have to do shit for me. Do it for my mom. The only sister you had. The one you loved so fucking much,” I reminded, throwing the words he spoke hours ago back at him.

  His eyes glazed over as he narrowed them at me. For the first time he didn’t hide the fact that the mere mention of my mother could bring him to his knees.

  He slowly lowered his gun, but didn’t holster it.

  I exhaled for what felt like an eternity. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and walked towards my window. I immediately turned to check on Esteban.

  I placed his head on my lap and caressed the sides of his bloody, bruised face. Barely recognizing the man who was in my arms.

  “Hey…”

  He stirred.

  “You’re going to be okay…” I coaxed.

  “Venga a recoger a este hijo de puta antes de que yo lo mate,” Uncle roared, “Come get this son of a bitch before I kill him.”

  He hung up, placing his phone back in his suit jacket, still facing the big, bay window in my room with his back to me.

  After all these years, after all this time, I wanted to know what he was thinking. What he was feeling. I wanted to know his story. What made him the way he was? If he was ever a kind person… a loving man… a scare
d child…

  I shook away the thoughts when I heard footsteps ascending down the hall. The same two men I’d met in the basement walked into the room. My uncle took one look at them and then nodded toward Esteban, turning to face the window once again.

  They quickly picked him up, dragging him away from me. Taking the blanket off the bed and wrapping it around him. He was half-conscious when the men stood him up, but he was still hunched over, reeling in pain. They placed his arms around their necks for support.

  Esteban opened his eyes as much as he could. Wanting to look for me I was sure. The men didn’t allow him any time and I wasn’t stupid enough to say anything to him. They carried him towards the door, leaving me to wonder if I would ever see him again.

  It didn’t matter. He was alive.

  “You know what?” Uncle said, bringing all of our attention back to him.

  The men holding Esteban spun to face him.

  My uncle turned around and narrowed his dark, daunting, soulless eyes directly at Esteban.

  “I changed my mind,” he simply stated.

  And before it registered what he just said. He lifted his gun and shot him.

  “NO!” I yelled out, placing my hand over my mouth.

  Hearing him groan out in pain, it was then I noticed his leg was gushing blood and my hand fell to my heart.

  Relieved.

  “The next time you fuck with what's mine, Esteban, the bullet will go in your fucking head.”

  With that the men turned and left, leaving a trail of his blood on the floor.

  “Briggs,” Uncle announced and I glanced over at him with nothing but hatred in my glare.

  He was lost in thought, staring at my shed innocence that stained the sheets on the bed. He walked over to me, every step precise and calculated with the same vicious expression on his face. He roughly gripped my chin, making me look him dead in the eyes. He looked at me like I had been reborn, like I was no longer a little girl and said,

  “You’re a Martinez now.”

  Chapter 10

  Austin