Page 30 of Nothing is Free

Five.

Six.

I count them all. Every bang is a shot to my own heart. . . .and then, there is nothing but silence.

FREEYA

My scalp burns as the grip Damyn has on my hair tightens. My bare feet slip against the tiles as I try to stop him from dragging me like a ragdoll down the hall. I knew deep down in the pit of my soul that he was coming. It’s why I could never settle back into a sense of normality. I could always feel his eyes on me. It’s the real reason why I never wanted to go outside. Intuition is both a blessing and a curse. I never mentioned it to my therapist or my mates because I know it sounds ridiculous. Maybe I should have clarified what I said to Dez earlier tonight. I knew it would come down to this. Like I said before, it will be either him or me, and tonight, it will be me. The problem with all of this is the excruciating rolling contractions twisting my insides up like a pretzel.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Let me go! I’m in labor, asshole.” I clench my teeth so tight; I might need a dental appointment when this is all said and done. I reach up and grab Damyn’s closed fist with both my hands and I attempt to pry my hair out of his hold. But it seems he got the message. Once we reach the living room, Damyn releases my hair, grabs my arm and tosses me unceremoniously onto the closest couch. My body bounces but I don’t wait around, rolling on my back, I stand, panting through the sharp spikes of pain, I run.

“Why are you running, Freeya? You have nowhere to go, Butterfly. You thought they could take you away from me. You believed I could forget the unforgettable. You were wrong. Oh, so wrong. Now, it seems I’ve come at the right time. Although your mates have made it very difficult for your parents, I’m sure I can still make good on our deal. You know, with you being in labor and all.” Damyn stalks after me, hot on my heels as I half run, half stumble away from him, clutching my belly.

“You’re not taking my child, Damyn, and you’re not taking me anywhere,” I say, my voice strained as another contraction hits me hard. They’re coming closer together now.I know if I can’t get away, I will run out of time. This baby is coming. I keep walking, knowing my destination but letting him think I’m attempting an aimless getaway.

I look over my shoulder and he prowls after me with a sinister smile. A walking apparition, draped in black, he glides after me like he has all the time in the world. He thinks I’m the mouse in this game. Well, he will learn soon enough, I’m the fucking cat. Just for good measure, I sway wildly and groan, doubling over, arms swinging, knocking into a glass vase filled with red roses. Sorry, Avion.The glass shatters as it hits the ground, water and roses spreading across the floor, like the crashing of waves against the rocky shore. Damyn chuckles, I guess he’s enjoying watching me struggle. I wish I was faking the pain, because these contractions are kicking my ass.

“I hate to see you like this. I had a plan to cut the baby out of you before the due date, but my plans were derailed when you abandoned me. So, seeing you suffer will be my reward.” I don’t see him coming until he’s on me. The blow to my back knocks the wind from my lungs. The force of Damyn’s kick sends me flying toward the floor so fast, I don’t get my hands out in time, and I land directly on my stomach. Pain erupts inside me, like knives ripping and cutting up my insides, a sharp endless contraction. I can’t breathe, I can’t move as he presses his foot into my back and applies more pressure. I scream, thrashing wildly, all I care about, all I think about is the child who’s being crushed underneath me. I try to fight but between the pain and weight I’m helpless. I try to pull myself forward, but my attempts are futile. I might justdie here on this floor if I can’t get away from him. So, I beg, I plead, I give in.

“Please, Damyn, let me have my baby. Let me see him once before we give him away. I will go with you, I promise. Please, you’re hurting me. You promised, remember, you promised.” I sob letting him see me broken in a heap on the floor. It’s not a stretch, I am broken. When he lifts his foot, I grit my teeth and pull myself forward.

“You see now that we were meant to be. Do you feel my love for you, Butterfly? I can grant you mercy. Don’t you know I will give you the world? I can give you more babies. You won’t have to mourn this one.” He keeps talking and I keep crawling until I am underneath the dining room table. “I did make you a promise. I do remember. And I will make it again. I promise to love and cherish you. I will make you mine, and eventually you will forget all of this. You will forget them,” he says as I watch him approach the table, he slowly gets closer and closer.

“Now, come out from under the table, Freeya. I will help you through this, and then we can get you out of here,” he says tenderly. But I don’t move as I reach up and grab what I put in this very spot weeks ago. You see, I too had a plan. Dez’s armory is locked away in his office. If you know the right book to push, the bookshelf slides away to reveal an arsenal of weapons strapped to the walls inside. Guns, knives, bombs, military grade machine guns, you name it, and he has it. For months now I’ve been a magpie or a squirrel, whatever description works best. I’ve been hiding weapons throughout the penthouse for a rainy day. Well, it’s raining.

“Come out!” he shouts as he bends down and looks under the table and down the barrel of my gun.

I shoot before he can do anymore damage. I fire six shots into him. I watch him fall to his knees and then onto his back,eyes wide with surprise, his breathing ragged, as blood bubbles out of the corner of his mouth. I don’t take my eyes off him, aiming the gun in his direction the entire time. It’s as if the entire world is holding its breath as life finally drains from his eyes.

I don’t realize I’m shaking violently until the gun falls from my hands. My own blood pours out of me, spreading across the floor and mixing with Damyn’s in some final macabre entanglement. My vision begins to blur, and the room begins to spin. I know I’ve lost too much blood. . .so much blood. Damyn’s dead. I killed him. I slide from under the table on my side, using one arm to pull me forward, while the other holds my stomach. The pain is blinding. I blink back tears as I inch past Damyn, his cold eyes watching me, even in death. I slowly pull myself to my feet, using a dining room chair for balance. I sway, unable to keep myself upright. I stare at Damyn’s dead body and wonder if by killing him it may have cost myself everything, including my life and the life of my unborn child. It’s with these final thoughts that my body gives out and everything goes black.

CHAPTER 19

FREEYA

An excerpt from Freeya’s Journal

December 22

Once upon a time, there was a girl. A girl who lived in fear, who made herself so small she was almost invisible. You see, hiding was the only way she felt safe from those who wished to hurt her, and hurt her they did. They hurt her with their words, their hands, anything they could use. Especially when the girl forgot she needed to hide, when the light shined so bright she couldn’t resist taking a peek. The light was her salvation, and she knew if she could just stay in that light, she wouldn’t need to hide anymore. Eventually the girl grew older, and despite all her hardships, years of isolation and solitude, she found a place where the sun always shines, and the light never dies. The light was love and shebasked in it. Like a flower, she soaked it up and she bloomed. Even when the rain clouds threatened to hide the sun, to snuff out her light, though she wilted, the girl, now a woman, stayed strong. For she knew if she bided her time the light would return, it didn’t matter if it was just a ray, because a ray would be enough. The ray was a symbol of hope, hope for a future without fear, without the threat of darkness, and a chance to live with the love of the ever-present light to shine on her forever. The moral of this story, the only person who can save you is you. You have to find your light all on your own. You have to grab it and hold on to it with all your might and never let anyone take it from you.

The End.

Ugh, I’m terrible at storytelling, I’d better stick to journaling.

It’s been two months since I woke in a hospital bed surrounded by my mates and my nameless newborn baby boy. His fathers didn’t want to name him until I woke up, so for three days his name was Baby Bean. Mercy got a real kick out of that for a good thirty-six hours. After a lengthy discussion, we decided to call him Dylan because like the meaning of his name, he is our ray of hope.

I was near death, lying unconscious next to a very dead Damyn when Dez, his team, and a swat team of police descended upon our penthouse. I didn’t know it at the time, but the rest of my mates had been drugged and locked inside Avion’s office. Damyn had been watching, just as I suspected,for months. He found a backdoor and a way around Malcolm’s security, and the rest was history. I knew he would come for me. Did I know when? Absolutely not. I just knew that when the time came, I would be ready. Unfortunately, I almost lost my life in the process.

“Earth to, Freeya.” Mercy snaps her fingers in front of my face, pulling me from my thoughts and the journal in front of me. Dylan is asleep across my lap, milk drunk and drooling all over me.

“When did you get here?” I ask her as I close the journal and set my sad attempt at storytelling far away from me. At least, for now.

“I’ve been calling your name for about.” She checks her phone. “About a minute.” Mercy sits beside me and strokes her fingers through Dylan’s black curls, and I know she is having baby envy. Yep, I’m calling it now. . .she won’t be too far behind. It’s been quite a year for us all and I think it’s about time for all of us to have a happy ever after. “You ready to go?” She asks, checking her phone again as a notification pops up. She reads whatever is on the screen, then hurries to pocket her phone.

“Tell me you’re not working three days before Christmas, Merce. Smooth Bourbon won’t lose profits because you’re on vacation,” I say as I grab Dylan’s baby bag and slide his sleeping body into his baby carrier.

“I know that. It was Faith, making sure we are not late for lunch. You know how she is.” Mercy shrugs and I am not at all suspicious of her behavior.

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