Page 10 of Dismantle & Prevail
One week. Seven days. 168 hours.
I’ve been stuck in this fucking cell, chained to the concrete wall, for seven days.
My wrists ache as the metal digs into them, fresh blood dripping from the scabs, ripping open.
Everything in my body is screaming to fight, but I can’t. Not with the state of my mind. Not with the words of the masked dickhead filtering on repeat.
Killer. Disease. Waste of space.
His robotic voice filters through my head and I push it out with every ounce of strength I can manage to latch onto.
“I will not die. I will make it out of here.”
The words are like fire against my dry throat.
In the week I’ve been here, they have given me a peanut butter sandwich and water twice a day. The first few days, I refused to consume any of it because poison is not the way I want to leave this world. But eventually, hunger and dehydration took over, giving me no choice but to succumb to the cravings.
Killer. Disease. Waste of space.
“Shut up,” I mutter and ease myself into a sitting position, looking around the room as if the dark walls and no windowed area are going to change.
I need to get out of here. I need to get back to my team.
But everyday I try to fight seems futile because I am chained to the wall. Every day I’m greeted by the same asshole who attacks the deep dark depths of my fucked up soul that only the worse version of myself would conjure up.
In the five years that I have been part of Resilience, I never once stopped to think that I would end up being the one needing to be rescued. I never allowed myself to go there because my plans were always well-executed and thought out to every last possible outcome. So that brings me to the question that has been plaguing my every waking hour. Which is a lot because I have nowhere to fucking go.
How the hell did this happen? And who the hell is responsible for this?
Anger rises in my chest, and I want to fucking scream. But I can’t, because just as I’m about to, the sound of a door opening stops me and my spine stiffens.
“Oh, Aries. It’s time for a little chat. Hope you slept horribly.” The robotic voice filters through the dark room and I want to kick, punch, stab, and maim whoever is behind the mask. But I can’t. I’m fucking helpless and all I can do is sit and try to ignore the words that are harsher than a bullet.
“Aries! Rayne is here!”
Boone’s voice booms from the bottom floor of our shared apartment.
I stick my head out of the bathroom and yell, “Get her settled, will ya? I’m just getting out of the shower!”
“Yeah. Hurry up.”
I can hear the hatred in Boone’s voice. But it’s not because of Rayne. It’s because of her mother.
My best friend is not fond of the woman holding my toddler, who was the gift of a drunken one-night stand. He was skeptical and so was I, but there was no denying Rayne when her dark eyes met mine. And the paternity test that was done a few days later only confirmed what I already knew.
Rayne Makenzie Carter was all mine. And the moment that little girl’s finger wrapped around mine, I vowed to protect her with my entire soul and never allow her a single moment to doubt that I will always be in her corner. Even if that means dealing with her insufferable mother, Tana.
As I run the towel through my long hair, I can’t help but roll my eyes at the idea of facing Tana. That woman has been nothing but a pain in my ass. I thought it would get better as we adjusted to co-parenting, but here we are four years later and it has only gotten worse.
And if it wasn’t for me wanting Raynie to grow up knowing both her parents, unlike I did, I would take Tana’s ass to court and get full custody. I have enough evidence to do so, but my damn past with my own parents is making me give Tana a million chances.
With that in mind, I quickly get dressed in a pair of sweats and a short-sleeved shirt. It’s a cold ass day in Calgary, but Raynie loves tracing my tattoos with her little fingers and I will do just about anything to put a smile on my little girl’s face.
My feet make quick work down the stairs and as soon as I hit the bottom step, I’m smacked with the sound of arguing from the kitchen.
Annoyance fills my body as I make my way to the rising voices. When I step foot in the kitchen, I’m hit from behind at the knees.
“Daddy!”
