Page 42 of Micro
He lifted an eyebrow at me, looking me up and down.
“But you just pulled me back in case there was a fire, so you’re bullshitting me.”Fuck.
“Micro, what’s going on, are you… Jesus, did you do this?”Fuck fuck and double fuck.
He punched me, and I staggered back a few paces.
“What the fuck?”
“Did you do something to them, fuckhead? Answer me? No, fuck that, I’m going in there, and you’re going to answer to the Pres.” He turned, and I saw everything crashing down around me, the loss of my retribution, yet another failure in my father’s eyes, the loss of my home, even though I’d been attacking it, the loss of my best friend.
The knife was in my hand before I even realised it, and as I grabbed him and pulled him back, I felt it slam into his back. He groaned before he tried to stagger away as I released him, and I backed up in a panic. What the fuck did I just do? Did I kill him? Did I kill the only fucker who mattered in this fucking place?
I watched him land face first on the tarmac, and felt bile creeping up my throat as I stared at the body of my best friend. My fucking brother! I just killed him. My only option was to get the hell out of there.
Now
Oneoftheworstthings about this whole mess was facing the guys I’d fucked over, and the horrific memories of the things I did to them, to their old ladies. How the fuck did I end up like that? Was it the shit I’d pumped into my veins for years, to keep me strong? How the hell did it feel like a different guy did those things now? Maybe the worst part was knowing now that I regretted those things, that I shouldn’t have turned on those who’d accepted me as one of their own, and having reached that realisation too late to do the right thing.
Maybe it was being who I am now, and knowing that I wouldn’t do those things now, but it was too late, and I would still die for them. Like a killer with amnesia, I’d pay for my crimes regardless of the memory of them, or the intent to commit them. Do the crime, do the time, right? Only ‘the time’ would be an agonising death.Club justice.
My chest was still burning and throbbing, where Torch had started to sear away my tattoo, but honestly, the amount of pain was a surprise when I saw how little he’d actually burned me. A couple of inches of melted flesh hurt like a bitch. It was pain I knew I deserved, but I wished I’d had my fucking epiphany before I earned it. Too little too late, like Reacher said. It was too late to feel remorse, because none of my actions could be undone.
The door crashed open and Stitch stepped inside, his eyes dropping to my chest, and a grimace in response.
“Hey, VP.”
“I’m not your VP, you bag of shit.” I nodded, wondering why I didn’t even feel that same hate for him or Reacher now. It was all gone. Finally it was where it belonged, on my fucking father, and on me. I’m the bad guy here, and clearly I always was.
“You had me almost feeling sorry for you, which is impressive, considering all the fucked up shit you did to us.” He practically stalked me, circling behind me, and stopping moving for long enough that I waited for that death blow with a thundering heart, but then he reappeared again, pacing once more.
“You come back here, acting like a fucking human, and getting up in our heads. Is that your play? Pretend to be a good guy, like you think it’ll get you out of this? Is that the crazy idea you have? So that then you can fuck with us all over again?”
“Not trying anything, Stitch. I know I’m done here,dead, but she’s important, and she needs to be saved. Her sister too. She’s an innocent fucking kid.”
Stitch grimaced again, dragging his fingers through his hair with his usual agitation around me.
“She arrived safely at school this morning,” he said, and I sighed with relief. Maybe they hadn’t come for her after all. Thank fuck.
“Good.”
“She went missing sometime after school let out, and before we could get anyone there.”Fuck.
I started straining against the bonds holding me to this chair for the first time since my capture, and Stitch fixed with a bemused smirk.
“The fuck are you doing?”
I struggled again, hissing with pain as the burn on my chest stretched, and set off new ripples of searing agony.
“I gotta get out of here, VP, I gotta save that kid. They’ll fucking brutalise her.”
Stitch shook his head at me. “You’re going nowhere. This is the place where you die, remember?”
I’d promised myself I’d just let them kill me, but now all bets were off. I couldn’t let Sophie and her sister be further casualties of my fucking actions.
“Fucking untie me, asshole. I gotta get Soph, and we need to go find the kid! Do you get what I’m saying here? They’ll fucking rape her, man. They’ll rape a teenage fucking girl!”
Stitch’s eyebrows twitched, like he was completely unaffected by my words, and that surprised the hell out of me, because he was protective as fuck of women. Maybe that didn’t matter if it wasn’t one of their fucking women though.
