Damaged

  DAMAGED: Round Three

  * * * *

  Copyright © 2015 by Skyla Madi

  Cover © Madi Design

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the publisher, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet without the publisher’s permission and is a violation of the International copyright law, which subjects the violator to severe fines and imprisonment.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents, and places are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events are entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. Ebook copies may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share with a friend, please buy an extra copy, and thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Kelly, Megan, and Lisa

  Thank you for putting your hand up to help when I needed it the most.

  On the Run

  Emily

  The cold wind blasts through my hair, causing sharp, black strands to whip across my face. My heart slams into my ribs over and over, and the ruthless pounding drums through my ears, vibrating across my brain. Out of sheer terror, I clench the strap of the seat belt as it bites into my torso. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pray to a God I suddenly believe in.

  Jai’s warm, damp palm glides over the top of my knee and rests on my thigh, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Don’t look so scared, Kitten.” He teases as I reluctantly open my eyes. “I know what I’m doing.”

  I don’t drive. In fact, I don’t even have a license. You wanna know why? Because I’m absolutely petrified of being in a car accident. Even at normal speeds uneasiness sits in my stomach. It remains there, feeling uncomfortable and heavy, until my own two feet are on solid ground again. We’re currently going one hundred miles an hour down a deserted strip of asphalt somewhere in the outskirts of New York and it feels worse than I could have imagined. My stomach squeezes, my heart pounds, and my blood thins, making me dizzy and nauseous all at once. Like a rollercoaster from hell.

  “Do you have to drive so damn fast?” I breathe as bitter bile from the deepest pit of my stomach burns at my throat.

  “It’s a stolen car.” He points out over the roar of the engine, his lips quirk into a smug smile. “So yeah. Kinda.”

  I’ve never broken the law. Not really. I mean, I’ve smoked marijuana here and there but that’s hardly a crime. Tonight, however, I’ve assisted in grand theft auto. I was there when Jai broke into a dealership and stole the keys to a sleek, black Camaro. I have no idea what the name means exactly, but judging by the way Jai’s eyes lit up as he stood before the black beauty, weighing the keys in his hand, he did. How many years will I get for assisting in a crime as big as that? To be honest, I wish we had never made it out of the car yard.

  He drives fast—so fast I feel weightless, like an asteroid hurtling through space. The car doesn’t feel heavy like it did when I got in. It feels as light as paper as it cuts effortlessly through the night air. It doesn’t help I know that the faster things go, the harder they crash.

  People speed all the time and they love it. They claim it’s exhilarating and exciting. How lucky for them. I find it absolutely terrifying. There’s nothing exhilarating about the way my heart beats, causing my blood to rush through my body. There’s nothing exciting about the way my ribs clench my lungs making them compress against my spine, lessening the amount of air I’m able to breathe. To top it off, I can barely rationalize my thoughts because my subconscious keeps screaming three little words at me. Somehow, amongst all of the chaos raging inside my small body, I hear the same three words over and over.

  Please.

  Don’t.

  Crash.

  “Flooring—shit!—the car down side streets to get to my apartment isn’t—oh, fuck!—exactly subtle.” I manage to squeeze out.

  A dense pressure squeezes my ribs and I’m surprised my heart manages to stay in my chest as opposed to being shot out of my throat and embedding itself deep into the dashboard.

  “I’m not aiming for subtle.” The steering wheel creaks as he squeezes the stitched leather. “Don’t worry so much. We’ll ditch the car closer to your place and do the rest on foot. Once you’ve grabbed some things, I’ll find us another car and we can make the final leg of the trip. It’ll be fine.”

  Trip? It’s a trip now, is it? I’ve never been on a trip, but I know they’re supposed to be fun. Nothing about any of this is fun. Where are we going anyway? Is it a country environment or will we be in the city? Do I pack for harsh, cold weather or does he plan on sticking us in a warm and damp underground tunnel again? This is critical information when packing! I don’t want to pack skirts and dresses and then end up at the damn North Pole.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, swallowing hard.

  Effortlessly, he changes gears and casually brings his hand back to the smooth, leather wheel. He’s driven at these speeds before—that much is obvious. His movements so far have been flowing and relaxed. He leans back into his seat, completely at ease, as if we’re driving under the speed limit instead of doubling it.

  I squeeze the strap of my seat belt tighter, feeling lighter without Jai’s heavy hand anchoring me down.

  “You’ll see when we get there.”

  I’d glare at him if I could bring myself to tear my eyes from the world that rushes past me.

  Up ahead a corner is approaching at an insane speed and if the last corner is anything to go by...Jesus. I lower my hands to grip the leather seat.

  “Shit.” I swear under my breath, as the palms of my hands slide over the leather. Anxious sweat leaks from my pores, making my grip weaker than I want it to be.

  Please.

  I squeeze my eyes shut.

  Don’t.

  Pain radiates through my jaw as I clench my teeth and the car slides into the turn.

  Crash.

  The tires screech and Jai sighs, reveling in the motion and the noise.

  He hits the gas and the car shoots out of the turn, leaving the smell of burnt rubber and the sound of angry squeals behind us.

  ****

  With ease, the car rolls between two dense bushes before stopping completely. Heat, a nervous and uncomfortable heat, blooms in my armpits and rolls down my spine. No random streaks of light leak in through the windows from the street, drowning us in darkness. The only sound inside the car besides the soft rumble of the engine is my panicked gasps for air.

  Holy shit.

  We made it.

  I’m alive.

  Jai pulls on the parking brake and turns the key. The rumble of the engine cuts out, exposing my anxiety. Deep heavy breaths I can’t stop is the only sound besides the ticking of the cooling engine.

  “You okay?” Jai asks, the embodiment of calm.

  Of course he’s calm. Jai has a handle on just about every situation. When I’m a fucking mess he’s cool and composed. Despite that, I nod, keeping my stare locked on the front windscreen. I’m unable to bring myself to look at him. If I do and he betrays even the slightest hint of worry or fear, I’m done. I’ll crumble like the edge of a weak cliff after a hurricane has smashed into it. Jai is a rock, the solid foundation that keeps my fears in check. When he is calm, I have faith in our situation, but if I look at him now and I see fear I’ll lose confidence.

  We wait in silence and even though the wheels of the car are immobile underneath me, my heart continues to thrum painfully in my chest. The reason for it is blaring its sirens in the distance, getting closer and closer. Cops are the last thing we need, but at least they’re an expected problem. I can almost taste the metallic bars of the cell they’re going to cage me in as the sirens ring through my ears, sending vibrations over my brain.

  “Fuck.” Jai swears, looking over his shoulder.

  Panic rises. I can’t go to prison. I’m too skinny for prison! My hair is too long and my breasts are too firm. Does it work the same as a male prison? Can I become someone’s bitch in a female prison? I don’t want to find out.

  The wailing sirens grow louder and my fingers find their way into my mouth. I wince as I suck my thumb between my lips and gnaw on my nail. The tips of my fingers are sore from weeks of nervous chewing. At this rate they’ll never recover.

  We’re like sitting ducks here. If they decide to use a spotlight, we’re done for. There’s no disguising the bright light that’ll reflect off the body of the car, even if it is shrouded in sticks and leaves.

  I look at Jai. His face is stern, his lips pressed into a thin line.

  “We should run.” I mutter and he shakes his head.

  “Wait for them to pass. Then we’ll move.”

  “You’re a cop. Isn’t there some kind of bro code?”

  Jai shakes his head again. “Bro code? No. Who knows which ones Skull has in his pocket.”

  I jump as flashes of red and blue light illuminate our surroundings. It disappears in a flash and I hold my breath as the blaring sirens fade
into the distance. We wait in defeating silence for what feels like an eternity before I ask:

  “Do you think we lost them?”

  “For the moment. C’mon.” Jai turns the key and, without starting the engine, small LEDs on the dash light up.

  I watch as he reaches for the roof of the car and presses a little, black button. Soft whizzing fills the air and hums against my eardrum as the small window in the roof opens.

  “Since we can’t get our doors open we’ll have to through the roof." He smiles at me. "You first.”

  With shaking hands, I exhale and unclip my seatbelt. Somehow, I manage to turn in my seat and reach up and grip the edges of the roof. This car’s sun roof isn’t designed for averaged sized humans to climb out of. Groaning, I pull myself out of my seat and straighten my legs. The ropes of muscle in my arms and legs scream at me, making me hiss through my teeth. A few hours ago, I was running for my life and I barely felt pain then. Now it seizes my muscles and grips my bones. We have to stop soon or I’m going to collapse.

  The cool night air blows against my heated skin, making the clammy beads of sweat that line my brow cold and uncomfortable. Still, as shitty as my current situation is, I have to remind myself I’m no longer trapped underground and I no longer have to fight for my life. That alone deserves a celebration. Skull will come after us, that much is guaranteed, but I can handle that. I’m good at running. I’ve been doing it my whole life. Fun fact: I was born in Sacramento and was shifted between there and Oregon until I was fourteen. Once I realized no one wanted me I ran and I made it as far as Colorado too, but I was caught as soon as I hit the state line and thrown back into the cesspool that is foster care. Two days before my fifteenth birthday I ran again and this time I was more careful. I stayed off the streets, never lingered in one place for too long, and I did my best to look like a kid who had a family who cared.

  Kansas.

  Arkansas.

  Tennessee.

  Virginia.

  Pennsylvania.

  Delaware.

  I’ve slummed around in all of them. It wasn’t until half a year later, when I ended up in Trenton. Admittedly, I got too comfortable and it was my own fault I got pulled in by a “Detective John McCabe”. Within a day I was placed into another children’s home on the outskirts of New York City. I remained in the children’s home until I aged out and was left to fend for myself. I didn’t mind. I graduated from high school—just—and was able to land a job at a fast food joint, flipping burgers. During that time, I slept on a random Japanese woman’s couch who I met back when I crashed bingo games for free food and (occasionally) booze. She let me stay with her until I saved enough cash to put myself through my nursing course. She passed away the week the hospital began paying me. Her landlord let me rent her apartment to save the hassle of advertising. As strange as it sounds, I lived with Sue for months...but she was still a stranger to me. I had no connection to her, nor her to me. It also didn’t help that I couldn’t speak Japanese. Now that I think about it, I didn’t even cry when I found out nor did I attend her funeral. What kind of sick shit is that? Anyway, I don’t mind fending for myself. I’m used to it and though I’ve never had a proper home here in NYC I’ve always felt like I belonged, that my blood is linked with the trash, rust and dregs of this otherwise beautiful city. As I climbed the roof of the children’s home every night and watched the lights of the city flick on level by level, building by building, I knew that even if I never found a home, I would always have a home...and in some twisted way that made sense to me…to my damaged teenage mind.

  Kitten’s Place

  Jai

  She jumps as I place my hand on the back of her slender calf. It feels incredibly small and weak in my hand, sending a pang of guilt through my stomach. My body is built for high intensity situations. Hers isn’t.

  “You okay up there?” I ask, leaning closer to peak out through the roof.

  “Uh, yeah,” She glances down at me, her face skewed by shadow. “Sorry. I zoned out for a second.”

  I keep my hand on the warm skin of her leg. Under my palm, her muscles tremble and spasm. I bet they hurt like hell—though I doubt she’s the kind of woman to admit the pain. Emily is a strong girl, stronger than she looks, but she’s not invincible. That’s for damn sure.

  Her calf slides out from underneath my hand as she pulls herself up and out of the sunroof. I follow, ignoring the scream of my own muscles as they tighten and relax, threatening to seize up with a painful cramp.

  Sharp twigs dig into my skin and pierce the surface in some places. Ahead, Emily curses under her breath as she slides off the trunk of the car and pushes her way through the broken shrubbery I forced the car through. If the police do a lap and come back in this direction they’ll see the car. Ideally, we’ll need to be on the thruway before then. We have to be far enough ahead to ditch the second car with ease. If they catch us...we’re done.

  I slide off the back of the car and—shit—I fall back against the vehicle, catching myself with my elbows on the trunk. Against the firm ground my legs feel like jelly. Boneless and weak.

  “Jai?” Emily calls through the bush with a light, curious tone.

  I need to get my shit together before she finds me like this. I know she looks to me for reassurance and comfort. I have to appear strong on the outside even when I’m deteriorating on the inside.

  “Yeah.” Hanging my head back, I inhale a lungful of air and roughly expel it before pushing off the car. “I’m coming.”

  Walking is a piece of cake once I get used to using my legs for something other than resting against a gas pedal. Sitting down, even for that short period of time, caused my muscles to cramp up. They’re bruised. I can feel it. It’s as if someone has taken a meat mallet to my body. It hurts, but it doesn’t hurt as much as running from Skull does. I don’t think my pride will ever let me live that one down. I should have put a bullet between his eyes. Fuck. I wish I did. It’s all I’ve thought about since breaking out of the tunnels. I had the chance…I had a hot, smoking gun in my hand and it was pointed right at his ugly face.

  Squeeze.

  Bang.

  That’s all it would have taken. I could’ve ended it. I could’ve cut my losses and dealt with the consequences after the fact.

  But I didn’t…

  The sidewalk moves quickly under our feet as we walk in the direction of Emily’s apartment. The bottoms of my feet are raw and blistered. Every step is like bare feet to a plate of hot coals. To be honest, I’m surprised my skin isn’t worn down to the bone.

  The street is void of any cars or people. Across the road and twenty feet ahead, a skinny, black cat crouches beside two overfilled bins. It watches us with its head pulled into its shoulders and its back arched in defense. When we’re ten feet away I hear it growl and hiss. I smirk. The alley cat is about as intimidating as Emily was when I met her.

  Fear. That’s all it is.

  Feeling a pulse of sympathy tug at my heart strings, I step off the edge of the sidewalk and onto the road only to have Emily’s hand snag the underside of my bicep in an attempt to pull me back.

  “Are you crazy? Don’t go near that thing.”

  The cat retreats behind a metal bin and refuses to come back out. Not even for a curious peek.

  “Why?”

  “It’s an alley cat and obviously not a nice one. You’ll need a shot if it scratches you.”

  I frown as she smiles a tired smile.

  “It’s just a cat.” I say. “How much damage could it really do?”

  “Wow. You’re really not from this side of town, are you? I hate to break it to you, Precious, but the animals around here are anything but friendly. You give them a chance and they’ll rip your flesh from your bones.”

  I laugh, surprised I even manage it. “Jesus Christ. You’re so dark.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Have you ever stopped to think for a second that maybe, maybe, if you give them a moment of your time, sided with a little compassion and a handful of food, they wouldn’t be so feral?”

  She snorts. “That’s the silver spoon talking.”

  I stop walking. It could be because I’m exhausted therefore making me extra irritable, but her words hit me wrong. Silver spoon? Bullshit.