Page 14 of Penance

I scissor the fingers of my good hand at the tiny piece of plastic managing to tug it forward. Pulling it down, I hop back up onto the island and start the process of rolling a joint.

I grind the bud until I feel little resistance, easier said than done when you only have one usable hand, so I have to clamp the grinder between my legs. It takes me a minute to get there, but I do. Still using the sliver of light from the cracked fridge door, I put a few accordion folds into my filter and then dump as much weed into the paper as I can. Making sure to add those precious little THC crystals on top and then roll, lick and twist.

Practice makes fucking perfect, that’s all I’m gunna say. I pop it behind my ear and roll a second. The ritual of it soothing me, keeping my mind busy as I grind and roll the perfect joint. I leave it all out on the counter and then clamber around in the dark for a lighter. I swear to god I had about ten of the fucking things a few hours ago and do you think I can locate one?

I huff in frustration and take a breath. I dig around in the cupboard under the sink for matches. A tiny noise on the other side of the island has me pulling free my gun -that I thankfully thought to stash beneath the sink. I spin around on my heel, removing the safety, aiming for a body shot at the wide, tall silhouette in the dark. ‘Cause you know, headshots in the dark are more or less sure to miss their target. But a body shot orten,that’s when you know you’re on the money.

“Whoa! Easy, it’s just me,” a deep voice, smooth as silk, whispers into the darkness.

I heave a deep sigh, flicking on the safety, placing the gun down beside the remnants of my joint rolling. Without saying a word, I continue my search under the sink.What the fuck am I even looking for?I pull up short for a minute, that voice having completely rattled my brain. Of all the men in this house, why does it have to be him who found me down here in the dark? And I’ve hardly got any bloody clothes on.

I should see him and rage. Cry. Scream. Have any fucking reaction other than the one I’m currently having. All I feel in his presence isus.He kick-starts something inside me. Everything in me feels drawn in his direction, his never-ending pull. Sucking me into his vortex just like it did when we were young and stupid, and I was oh so infatuated with him. I loved him more than the sun loves the moon, he was my everything. I needed him more than the air in my lungs from the very first day I opened my eyes.

Matches.

That’swhat I’m looking for.

I continue shuffling through the plastic tubs of crap when I touch a small cardboard box, I give it a quick shake to check its contents,bingo. Straightening up, I close the cupboard doors. When I turn back to the island, Max is still frozen on the opposite side of it. I can’t see his features in the dark, but his head is bowed in submission and my heart lunges in my chest.

Swallowing down my confusing feelings, scratching their way down my throat like sandpaper, I squeeze my eyes shut tightly for a second.

Do I, or don’t I?

“Smoke?” I whisper tensely, offering him an olive branch I probably should have burnt instead.

I will never learn. I’m not even sure I want to learn my lesson when it comes to the demon before me. He was carved from a piece of the Devil himself. Born of hellfire and sinister intentions.

Perfectly created to spit fire and raise hell, designed for the Queen of the Underworld.

His body flinches as if I slapped him, his head snapping up like he didn’t expect me toactuallyspeak to him.

“What?” he mumbles back, his lips barely parting with the question.

I take a joint from behind my ear, popping it between my teeth.

“Dope, Max, do you wanna smoke with me?” I whisper again and I hear him suck in a sharp breath. Being brave I spit out the words before I can think too much on them, “if you change your mind,” I shrug nonchalantly, leaving my statement open as I thumb the air in the direction of the back door.

Before I can change my mind and run back up to the safety of my lovers’ arms like a coward, I turn my back on him. I slide the top bolt free, then the bottom one and then finally twist the key in the lock. When it twists and clicks twice, I grab my leather jacket off the hook and pull the door open, the winter wind instantly pricking at my skin.

I lay my jacket out on the concrete step, softly closing the door behind me and sit down. The icy air sending goosebumps skittering all over my exposed skin. Pulling my knees up I tuck my t-shirt over them. My arse is still fucking freezing, why didn’t I put any damn knickers on? All my favourite bits are gunna fucking freeze at this rate and I’ve only just started using them again. Lesson learnt I suppose.

I take the little box of matches, struggling to strike one alight with only one hand, the flame dances wildly as I finally light the end of my spliff. Inhaling deeply, holding the thick, sweet smoke in my lungs, I tilt my head back with my eyes closed before finally releasing a sticky cloud. The wind whipping it away as quickly as I release it, like it never really existed to begin with. After the second toke, the pain in my hand is already lessening, my brain fog clearing.

The moon casts a beautiful shimmer of light down around me. I take a moment to just appreciate it, the hundreds of stars glittering high above me, it’s peaceful. Free.

All I’ve ever wanted to be is free.

Like my surname would suggest, I’d love to sprout wings and fly, but I continuously find myself caged, metaphorically speaking of course. Charlie only ever locked me in an actual cage once and it was boring as fuck. I stabbed him in the thigh and bit a teeny, tiny piece of his ear off. That part was fun.Obviously. Every time I notice it now, I smirk, and he scowls knowing what has my attention. All part of our routine.

In all seriousness, he was trying to show me what it was like to be trapped in a cage, but it didn’t have the desired effect. After only a few hours I was losing the will to live, knowing I could get out at any second.

Charlie didn’t get that luxury the time he was locked up by our enemies. I was in juvie then; I didn’t even imagine someone I loved could be suffering like I was. Charlie was supposed to be going to MIT, not stolen away, and tortured for almost six months. Poked and prodded with sharp objects through the steel bars of his cage, chained by the ankle with not enough space or slack in the shackle to move inside his tiny prison. Men pissing on him while laughing around their cigars. Dragging him out and beating him over and over. Yet, he still didn’t talk. Wouldn’t. Even when they brutalised his throat so badly, they ruined his voice forever, leaving in its place a deep, shadowy growl. Not that I don’t enjoy hearing that rasp he has now, it’s a beautiful sound that curls around you, demanding your attention. Devastating you with whispered promises of violence and death.

Charlie has more courage and loyalty than anyone I have ever known and everyone I haven’t met yet, there is no one superior. Not in my eyes. Charlie is the most angelic, pure demon to ever exist. His blood is black, but his soul is divine. A sparkling clear white that shines brighter than the sun. My revere for him is greater than anything else I have in me.

I take a long drag on my blunt and the pain in my hand all but disappears, leaving nothing but a dull ache in its place. Also, it’s kinda itchy, but I dunno if that’s in my head or not. This isreallygood weed.

The door clicks open behind me and Max bravely steps out, shutting it softly behind him, he fidgets awkwardly next to me for a moment, I sigh.

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