“Did you not like your lunch?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Small stomach.” It was a miracle I hadn’t thrown up yet.
After the staff had cleared our plates, Holly suggested we lounge on the beach
for a while to let our stomachs digest. I was agreeable to that, as long as she
remained quiet for once. We relaxed on the most comfortable chaise lounge chairs
imaginable with a large beach umbrella overhead to protect us from the sun. Hank
and Blondie sat next to a tree about a hundred feet from us in regular lounge chairs.
As I laid against the chaise, I realized I had done more activities in these last few
hours than I had in weeks. And I was suddenly exhausted for some stupid reason.
Before I knew it, I was out like a light.
9
DARK MEMORIES
Pain suddenly exploded on the side of my head as I flew into the concrete wall,
unable to slow my momentum. It didn’t matter much since I was already on to
the next wall, the back of my head aching like it had split in half. I felt the snap of
my wrist as it crunched painfully under my flesh and left me screaming in agony
and terror. I tried to defend myself, I tried to hold my own, but I was weak, tired,
and pathetic. I begged him to stop, pleaded with him, but he had his own agenda.
He shut me up with a broken jaw instead. And then, when I thought it was over, the
boa constrictor returned, snaking his arms around me and squeezing me until I was
thoroughly broken and gone.
“Run from me again, Jaden. Because if it ever happens again, I can’t promise you
I’ll stop next time.”
“Jaden, wake up.”
I woke with a jolt. Snapping my fist out in the direction of the voice, I connected
with something soft and hard at the same time. A loud feminine grunt echoed in
my ears as I finally opened my eyes to find Holly on the ground, clutching her face
and looking up at me in shock while my hand ached something fierce.
Fuck.
“Shit, Holly, I’m so sorry,” I said quickly as I tried to calm my racing heart. “Are
you okay? I didn’t mean it.”
“What the hell just happened?!” yelled Hank as he and Blondie rushed over.
“It was an accident,” I said to them, as Hank bent down to check Holly.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled as her hands covered her nose, but I could see the
blood begin to gush between her fingers. Fuck, I hoped it wasn’t broken.
“Why did she hit you? What did you do?” Hank asked Holly a little too
aggressively.
“It’s not her fault,” I dejected. “I was having a nightmare and just reacted when
she woke me up.”
Hank sighed in annoyance, shaking his head, and helped Holly stand. “I’ll take
Holly to see Ginsby. It looks like it’s already starting to swell. You stay here,” he
said to me as he started to walk away with her.
I sighed deeply. “Fuck.” I groaned under my breath, pinching the bridge of my
nose. Blondie was still standing there, looking at me like I was a misbehaving
toddler. “What?!” I shouted at him as he stared at me behind his stupid sunglasses.
“Nothing,” he said as he put his hands up in surrender.
“Fuck this.” I groaned. “I’m going for a walk.”
I turned away from him and headed for the shore to get as far away from the
house as possible. I was gonna hear so much shit for this later, but I didn’t want to
hear it now.
For the next hour, I wandered the island, exploring through the brush and palm
trees with an obviously bored-out-of-his skull Blondie, who watched me from a
polite distance. I attempted to learn the lay of the land before I was called back to
the house, but nothing ever happened. Yet.
As I walked through the brush, I noticed all the different colored plants and the
songs of the birds I kept hearing outside of my window. But as I watched a certain
bird above me, I nearly ate the dirt as I tripped over a rather thick stick on the
ground. Ignoring the slight ache in my side, I bent down and picked it up, noticing
its light weight and rounded edges. It was a little longer than a normal baton but
too short and weak to be a bo staff.
I continued my walk, casually spinning the stick in my hand, feeling the motion
and smiling at the memory of twirling a familiar weapon in my hands.
Unfortunately, the last time I held a bo in my hands hadn’t ended well, but so what.
The twirling was good therapy for my wrist since it was so light. Maybe I could
eventually find something heavier when it became strong enough.
As I twirled, I looked down at my knuckles to notice they were a little bit red. My
nightmares were getting worse, frequenting at least once a week now. The
memories were growing darker, the pain so fresh in my mind, it was like it
happened yesterday. Waking up from one nightmare to the next didn’t help. Each
bloody and broken memory was
