Page 77 of Savage

“Let’s get somethin’ fuckin’ straight, bitch. You don’t talk about other men when you’re in my bed. Especially not Kick. I love that fucker like a blood brother, but I don’t wanna hear you mention his name in here. Not in this room, not in this bed, and not fuckin’ while you’re lyin’ next to me in nothing but panties and a teeny little top, you got me?”

“Yeah, I got you.”

“Good.” I feel her trembling, and I know it’s not from the cold. It’s the detox. She shakes constantly. I can’t imagine how annoying that is. “Jesus Christ, you’re shakin’ the whole fuckin’ bed, babe.”

“I can’t help it,” she says, and her teeth bang together. I wrap my arm around her waist and draw her back against my front. I’m naked, and I know she can feel my cock against her arse, hard as fuckin’ nails and raring to go, but we both ignore it because we’re both as stubborn as a hatful of arseholes. She won’t put out until I give her drugs, and I won’t give her drugs—aside from the hit of pot every once in a while to take the edge off the cravings and the hurt. We’re at a fuckin’ stalemate. The only difference is I can use my hand when it all gets too much, but I don’t even have a fucking Panadol lying around to help alleviate her cravings. I pull her closer until there’s no more space between us and I pin her arms against her chest with my own to stop them from shaking. It isn’t long before the trembling subsides, but I’m not letting her go because for a second I can pretend that this is normal for us, that she’s my old lady and she’s right where she’s supposed to be.

Inside, I know that shit’s about as fucking true as the fairy tales people tell their kids. We’re not supposed to be fucking anywhere, because this life is not fit for anyone you love. And I’m not a nice guy. Right now, as she’s tucked away safe in my arms and having the most peaceful sleep I’ve seen her have in weeks, I’m thinking about burying my cock inside her and just taking her, even though I know she doesn’t want it.

I don’t, because while there’s no doubt that I’m an arsehole, I’m not that much of an arsehole. When I get up inside that tight little cunt of hers again, it’ll be because she’s stone-cold sober and she wants me there. I just pray to Christ that it’s soon, or I’m gonna have a fuckin’ aneurism.

CHAPTER THREE

IVY

FOURTEEN YEARS AGO

Icurl up in the bathtub. The water is cold. It’s been cold for too long, and it’s making me shiver. My fingers are wrinkled, and my skin has gone all white and soft. My teeth chatter together, and I clamp my mouth shut, so they won’t make a noise. If I make noise, Daddy will get up from the couch, and he’ll order me to get out. And then he’ll dry me off.

I’m so cold that I want to dry off. I want to get warm and put on my pyjamas and snuggle down into my soft, cosy bed. But that won’t happen. That never happens.

Because Daddy likes to dry me, and dress me up, and take pictures. I’m not allowed to dry myself. I’m not allowed to dress myself, or run my own bath, or tell him no. I’m not allowed to make a sound, or the punishment will be worse.

I asked my babysitter, Josie, once, if her daddy took pictures of her too. She hadn’t liked that question. She’d asked me a lot more, and then she’d cried and told me we were going out for ice cream. We didn’t go for ice cream. We’d driven for hours, and I’d gotten scared because Josie was acting weird. She’d told me she was taking me away; she’d said that my daddy wouldn’t ever see me again. I’d cried.

Eventually, I’d fallen asleep, and when I’d woken up the car was upside-down. Josie’s face had been all mashed up, like a giant had stomped on her. She’d reached over and unbuckled my strap, and I’d fallen out of my seat. Feet had appeared at her window, and I’d screamed.

“Run,” Josie had said, and then the man had opened her door. My door had opened too, and I’d screamed because in the dark I couldn’t see, but then my daddy had been there, kissing my forehead and pulling me from the wrecked car.

Josie had screamed. “Run, Ivy. Run!”

I’d looked back over my daddy’s shoulder, but he’d covered my eyes.

“Don’t look, baby. You’re safe now. She can never hurt you again. Daddy’s here.”

Josie had screamed again, and there was a loud bang from behind us, and then it had gone quiet but for the noise of the van that Daddy had bundled us into.

“It’s time to get out.” Daddy startles me in the doorway. He walks toward me with a soft smile on his face. “Has Daddy’s girl been good in here all alone?”

I shiver in the water and glance down at my wrinkled skin. Sometimes I wish my face had been mashed up the way Josie’s was.

Maybe then he wouldn’t love me so much.

Maybe then he wouldn’t take the pictures.

Maybe then the other man would have shot me instead of Josie.

CHAPTER FOUR

IVY

As soon as I hear the bike roar down the drive, I’m out of bed and moving towards the kitchen. This is the first time Tank has left me alone since he brought me here. I half expected him to wake me up, but whatever he had to do must have been urgent because I heard his phone ring and then he was up and tearing around the house. He opened my door and just stood there for a moment, watching me “sleep”. He couldn’t see that I was awake because I was facing the wall, and probably giving him a pretty good view of my naked arse. He’d groaned. The sound had resonated through the room like music, sexual, primal, and it had tightened things low in my belly that in my agony I’d almost forgotten were there. Then he’d sighed and quietly closed the door before walking away. I’d heard him set the alarm before he left.

I wander into the kitchen and see the note he’d scrawled in his big, hard to decipher chicken scratch:

Ivy,

Club biz. You fuckin’ stay put. You hear?

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