Page 5 of Bed of Thorns

“Son of a bitch!” I said louder, taking a harder swing.

Bam! Bam!

“That boy is fuckin’ nuts,” an asshole said from behind me.

“Someone should put a collar and a leash around that beast,” another one taunted, laughing at the crazy boy.

“He gonna kill somebody.”

“Somebody needs to cut him.”

I heard their taunts, their nasty words. Crazy. Yeah, maybe I was crazy. What the fuck did I care? I smashed my fists against the punching bag even harder, one brutal jab after another and still, the rage continued boiling through me, the hatred the only thing that did keep me sane. I wanted revenge. I wanted blood.

And I wanted the fucker’s head on a platter, and that’s exactly what I would get. One day. One. Fucking. Day. Beads of sweat poured down my face, stinging my eyes but I kept going, throwing punch after punch. I sensed the guards staring at me. I knew their hands were already reaching for their weapons. They knew my behavior, my reaction to any authority. And they knew what I could do.

Bam! Bam! Wham! Bam!

“Whoa, Edmond. What are you doing?”

I glanced at Adam, continuing to dance back and forth, pummeling my fists against the cracked cheap vinyl. Nothing would take the pain away. Nothing. My fucking cellmate. Instead of sticking my ass in solitary confinement, the bastard prison officials used another tactic to keep me in line. Some motherfucking old man to try to temper my fury.

Like that was possible.

“Leave it alone, Bubba. I need release,” I sputtered and flexed my fingers, smiling from the sight of the blood covering my knuckles. When several of the other prisoners sauntered in my direction like they were gonna dare to fuck with me, I turned to face them, throwing out my arms, tossing my head back and roaring like a lion.

“God. Damn. That boy needs some serious fucking help,” the biggest, baddest asshole snarled then spit on the ground before backing away.

I returned to the bag, finding Adam standing next to it. When he placed his hand directly in the center, I wanted to go ballistic.

But I didn’t.

Hell, I couldn’t beat an old man to death. That wasn’t cool.

“Walk away, Bubba.”

“I’m not walking away, Edmond, and you know my name is Adam. I don’t ask anything of you except that you call me by name. I deserve that level of respect, don’t you think?”

He had a way of getting through my thick skull if only for a few seconds. His eyes were as imploring as his deep voice. I had no clue what the hell he was doing on my cell block, but that meant he was a bad dude. Whatever.

“Adam. Please walk away.”

“No. Take a look over your shoulder, son. What do you see?” He pointed behind me. I didn’t need to look but I did out of respect. “Those men are itching for a reason to pull their triggers. Don’t give them an excuse. That’s not what you want or need. Think of your family.”

He already knew how to get through to me. Whichever motherfucker told him about my family would also face my wrath.

“I ain’t got no family. Not anymore.”

He shook his head. “What about Mercedes? Don’t you consider her family?”

I fisted my hand, almost issuing a punch. He simply gave me that fucking fatherly look that he’d done ever since stepping foot inside my cage and I opened my hand.

“What happened? Did a letter come from her?”

He’d seen my stuff, another thing that pissed me off, but he’d calmed me down a few times before. “Yeah. That bastard of a sperm donor I had is hassling her. He better not lay a hand on her! I swear to God I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”

“Calm down, Edmond. He’s not going to hurt her. He can’t and he knows that. Her mother wouldn’t allow it.”

Even though his words were soothing, the rage remained. Mercedes had no understanding of what my father was capable of. She was an innocent fawn in a world where wolves preyed, claiming every vulnerable creature. And I couldn’t protect her.

---