I dial Bishop’s name on my phone as I cross the busy road, picking up my pace to the apartment and ignoring the blaring horns and profanities being screamed at me from angry New Yorkers.
“What, Madison?”
I swallow past the bluntness of his words. “I think someone’s following me.”
“Where are you?” He hardens his tone, but in a way that I remember him being. The protective asshole who fell in love with me, and me only. “Madison!” And he’s mad again.
“I’m almost home.”
“Keep me on the phone until you get there.”
“Okay.” I cross the road when it’s clear and round the corner that leads directly to my building—passing the scent of freshly baked bread from the bakery across the street. Peering over my shoulder, my heart beating in my chest—I let out a relaxed sigh when I see Eli jogging up to me.
“Never mind! It’s Eli.”
Bishop mumbles something under his breath before the line goes dead.
“Heey!” I say, shoving my phone into my jacket pocket. “What are you doing in the city?”
He hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “Running a babysitting errand.”
“Ah.” I continue my walk back to the apartment with him beside me. “King business?”
“I wish.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Hey, is everything okay? You know I’m always here for a chat. I know you’ve got Nate and Bishop, but I also know they’re both going through shit right now, so just saying, I’m here.”
“Thanks, E. That’s really sweet of you.”
He nudges my shoulder with his and points up ahead. “I’ve gotta head back to Riverside. You’ll be okay?”
I tilt my head toward the opening doors of the building, stopping in front. “I’m home now. I’ll be fine.”
“Alright, Mads. See you soon.” And he disappears through the sea of bodies as I make my way up to our apartment.
Passing the reception desk, I notice V isn’t working, which isn’t unusual. She works nights, but the girl who works days could not be more opposite to V. I actually think she hates me a little too.
I don’t bother waving to her as I enter the private elevator, swiping my card to take me to our level. Seeing a text from tate, I open it with a smile. Bet she’s hung over.
I lost your house key at the club. Fuck.
I ignore her text, typical Tate. She wouldn’t have lost it. It’ll be at her house somewhere or stuck in her bra. I’m flicking through Instagram when the doors part. I take one step in before something is being shoved over my head, cutting off my sight.
“Hey!” I yell, but some kind of rope ties around my mouth, my arms pinned to my back. Tingles spread through my body as I fall to the ground, desperate to kick something—anything. Only I’m met with air.
“She’s feisty.” A man’s voice.
I don’t recognize him. Oh my God, someone was watching me. Something pinches me in my thigh, and I scream, wriggling around on the ground to try to get on my feet. Dread drowns me along with whatever poison they just injected into my leg. I know this isn’t Bishop’s shenanigans. I know. I can fe—my body liquefies, as if my limbs are slowly turning to Jell-O.
“What did—” I attempt to say, only I can’t feel my tongue and I’m pretty sure drool is falling down my lip. I try to reach for it but can’t feel my arms. Did they cut them off? Tears prick the corner of my eyes as whatever was covering my face disappears.
I’m going to die.
“Move her to the bed. Set up the camera.”
My eyelids feel like lead, my will to fight slowly disappearing. Someone picks me up, I think, and I’m moving, floating through the air. Maybe I’m flying—that could make more sense right now. And now I’m falling… falling and falling into a soft cloud. I chuckle, smiling at the clouds surrounding me. Reaching out to touch them, air whooshes up my inner thighs, curling around my curves. I giggle at the way it tickles all of my sensitive regions, and then my back arches off the bed when I feel more air push around me. Widening my arms out, a smile spreads on my lips. I’m jumping now. Jumping and jumping on the clouds like balls of bubblegum, and then I’m falling… falling far down. Smack! My head hits the hard pavement and sets off a pounding headache. I groan, turning left and right. No longer on clouds, no longer bouncing, no longer happy. A familiar dread begins filling my mind again, touching all of the raw memories from what it felt like moments ago. Something is torn off and I’m looking up at an unfamiliar face. He’s young. I don’t know him.
Oh my God, they’ve been following me. Tate’s key. The club. My recklessness.
My thighs ache, everything hurts.
He cracks a smile at me that reeks of evil. But it’s not. It’s not evil. I know evil, and he drives a Maserati. “Now, you’re going to play along with this.”
“Fuck you!” I spit at him, trying to push up from the bed but failing. My arms still aren’t working properly, despite the fact they’re no longer restrained.
The boy leans down, meeting me at eye level. I can’t tell how much time has passed since he drugged me, or what kind of psychedelic he drugged me with, but it’s well worn off. It’s not until I look down to my thighs to notice he’s changed me into a small leather skirt and a white crop top with no bra. The jumping around must have been him changing me.
“Who the fuck are you?” I reach for the sheets on our bed to cover my body, only they’re too tight to pull.
He takes a seat on the edge of my bed. Mine and Bishop’s bed. And flicks open the button of his shirt. “I’m someone who is going to kill every single person that you love if you don’t go ahead and play a cute little game with me. Don’t believe me? We got into your house without you or Bishop knowing.”
“What game?” I ask, my eyes falling up and down his body.
Jeans, hoodie, but an air of danger hovers over his shoulders and there’s something. Something that is telling me that whatever Bishop has been hiding from me all this time, it has to do with this man here, which means that if Bishop was hiding him from me, he’s dangerous. Dangerous enough to follow through on his threat. Bishop has always said I wasn’t strong enough to stand beside him when he took the gavel. If I folded and destroyed everyone that I loved because I couldn’t do my part, I’d never forgive myself.
I sigh, my heart beating fiercely in my chest. So hard that it almost snatches my breath. “What do you need me to do?”
The breakdown of a relationship isn’t the only thing that breaks.
SUNSETS OR SUNRISES. ONE SIGNIFIES the end of the day as it baptizes the sky with streaks of blood orange, and the other symbolizes the start of a new day. New sins to be made, new memories, new regrets.
I sit perched in a lounge chair on the patio of my parents’ house. I couldn’t go back to the apartment. I can’t go back. Not after what I did.
Swiping the tears that fall down my face, I blow gently into my mug of hot chocolate. An empty void fills my chest that I know will never refill. I’m not broken, I’m damaged. I wasn’t before. I was his, now I’m not. Guilt grips me from around my throat and refuses to let go. Even when I suck down the rich melted chocolate, the guilt lingers right there beside the notes of crushed cocoa beans.