Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (38 page)

“I just need to stop by the
house and pick up a few things,” I woodenly mumble to Ezra. In preparation for my escape, these past few weeks I’ve consolidated all of my belongings. Anything of meaning I took to Whittenhower Estates- photo albums, familial treasures, jewelry passed down from Grammy Cynthia. As worthless as Fate is, she will keep them safe. My bedroom is almost empty. The clothes I decided to keep are in the closet and the dresser drawers of my bedroom at ShadowHaven.

My daddy’s home is no longer mine.

“Still not feeling sick?” Ezra asks for the billionth time. I couldn’t tell him that Wil gave me the morning after pill. He wouldn’t understand my reasoning. I know the Catholic stance on those evil pills. They see it as bad as an abortion. I have no idea what the Jewish stance is. I’
m sure that Diane would rain hellfire down on me and Marcus would smite me- my own family would just tie me down and rape me.

My warped conscious is clear. As long as I didn’t know if there was a child, I can live with myself. Besides, how long does conception take? Both times I took the pills within hours of sex.

“I started my period this morning,” I say to ease Ezra’s fears or make him worry more. We’re both confused on how we should feel at this point. His deep sigh could mean anything.

I’d love to tell Ezra and Cortez that I had my period every day of the month. Whether I want a hug or not, they’ve been screwing my brains out like rabbits on ecstasy. I try to ignore the fact that I’m with them out of
a misplaced sense of guilt and a need to repay them for their friendship. Ezra sees through my pathetic attempts and Cort is just worried about his prowess.

After having sex three times a day with Cort working like a sonofabitch to get me off, I started faking… and that just makes me feel sicker.
At this point, the thought of sex turns my stomach. I just don’t have the heart or balls to tell them no.

“Home sweet home,” Ezra says with a sad smile as we walk into the house the State now owns.

“It doesn’t feel like home any longer…” My feet freeze as my mouth gapes open. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I grumble.

“No,” Ezra cries in alar
m. His world just crumbled beneath his feet and the sadist in me is clapping, or maybe it’s my overworked pussy- she’s thrilled for the excuse to be left the hell alone. I do feel bad that Ezra’s pale face is tinged green and his eyes are watering. Ezra’s devastated reaction makes me want to cry.

“No,” Cort echoes Ezra, but I can tell it’s an act.
His voice has a hint of amusement and sarcasm, and the satisfied smirk is threatening to erupt into a Cheshire cat shit-eating grin. The sonofabitch wanted us to find him balls-deep inside my sister. Fate at least has the decency to blush. I’m sure this was Mitchell or Gwen’s doing, but Cort is too naïve to realize it.

“I hope you have a condom on. I wouldn’t want to know what’s been in that filthy cunt,” I feign distain as I walk into the living room to get a better view. I shouldn’t feel pleasure knowing I have a better body than Fate. It’s gross, but what an ego-fucking-boost.

“You’re an idiot,” I say with a humorless grin while shaking my head. “Think with the big brain for once. You don’t appreciate what you have. I don’t even give a shit that you’re cheating on me- but cheating on Ezra makes me want to kill you. You… you fuck that,” I hiss, pointing at my sister, “When you have that?” I point at Ezra’s gorgeous, tight body. “Baby boy, that’s all you are- a fucking immature kid. This was nothing but a disgusting display of disrespect.”

“You cheated on me first,” Cort screams at me, tan face turning beet-red with fury.

“Oh, c’mon,” I roll my eyes. “We both know what’s between you and me is just a fling. I thought we were friends first and that we could talk to each other.”

“
So you weren’t off screwing him all day,” Cort growls at me, but his gray eyes are piercing Ezra.

My snort is so loud I’m surprised it doesn’t have a ricochet. “Ah, I see,” I mumble, sounding like Marcus.

“I don’t know how I feel right now,” Ezra whimpers, ass landing on the cushion of the sofa. His face is crestfallen, his bottom lip quivering. The stormy eyes are rapidly flitting about, proving that Master Ez is trying his damnedest to keep Ezra contained and Ez in control.

“Sit down, Cort,” I point next to a silently crying Ezra. “You,” I snarl at my sister, “j
ust get the fuck out. Go tell Granddaddy Pimp mission accomplished. But it’s beyond me… never mind, I get it.” I say as my mind reasons out Fate’s motives. Mitchell wanted Ezra and me on one team and Cort on the other- like we would fall into each other’s arms for comfort. “Just go,” I exhaustedly whimper.

Cort drop
s onto the sofa next to Ezra, looking confused, angry, and frustrated. I toss Cort’s shirt over his groin, not wanted to look at that piece of meat. I thankfully note the condom. Fate ignores me, as usual. She pulls her skirt back down and primly settles in one of the chairs. I ignore Fate because this isn’t about her or me, it’s about them. I sit on the coffee table directly in front of the boys.

“I assume that Fate has been filling your jealous head with falsities,” I begin, knowing that Fate most likely told the truth, but Cort will always believe me over Fate- and if Ezra backs me up, Cort will believe anything I say.

“Ezra and I weren’t off screwing our brains out. I was at the courthouse, sitting outside a trial, awaiting news and hoping I could speak to Daddy or Aunt Amelia. Ezra sat with me so I wouldn’t get bored. Ezra sat where Fate should’ve been,” I add to be spiteful. Fate has the decency to shield her face from my view.

“Fate said,” Cort sounds so unsure that I want to take his hand, but I don’t. I have no clue if those fingers were inside my sister. “She said that you guys have had sex- real sex,” Cort stresses.

“You mean sticking his dick in my vagina? Not true,” I blatantly lie, covering the truth. My proficiency in lying has grown to the point that I can lie while committing the act. Ezra could be inside me, and I could make Cort not see it.

Fate trills a laugh that could be interpreted in many ways.
It upsets Ezra. The half of him that lied is fighting the other half from finding out the truth. He’s sitting on the sofa with emotions rapidly flashing across his face. Finally he relaxes and says, “I’ve only been inside her…” Ezra blushes bright red and ducks his head.

“Are you fucking mental?” Fate spits at us. “You’re seriously buying that shit?”

“Says the girl who would sleep with her sister’s boyfriend when she should be at the courthouse supporting her family,” I use as a diversion.

“I trust them a heluva lot more than I trust you,” Cort growls at Fate.

“Oh my God,” she shakes her head back in forth in disbelief. “They were having sex during the charity ball last month. I saw them! We all saw them. We have it on video.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I mumble in confusion.

Video?

“What the hell, Fate,” Ezra feigns annoyance, covering our lies. When Cortez drops his head in
to his hands, Ezra mouths
you’re doomed
to Fate. He evilly grins, and you just know he’s imagining the torture he will dole out on my sister.

“I’m sorry,” Cort says from his palms. “I let jealousy blind me.”

“You should have just trusted us,” I say.

“I know. It’s all those secrets. I know you’ve been keeping things from me, so when Fate told me this, I believed her. I shouldn’t have. I let you down. I… I should have been with you at the courthouse. I don’t even like Fate. A woman who abandons her family is scum and I… I just had sex with her,” he hisses in disgust. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Cort looks up at me with huge gray eyes fringed in black lashes, beseeching me. His mouth is swollen from kissing my sister. His body is naked except for the shirt covering his groin. Cort has never looked more appetizing and seductive, and all I see is a little boy that’s pretending- a boy using his charm to get out of trouble.

Is Cortez
my friend? I don’t think so, or at least not the kind of friend I need. It doesn’t matter what Ezra and I have done to save us. This was just out of spite and done without thought of consequence. Fake relationship or not, jealousy or not, this is unforgiveable. Cortez has been with Ezra for seventeen years, and that is why I couldn’t trust Cortez no matter how hard I wanted to believe in him. If he could intentionally hurt Ezra, he’ll betray everyone. He’s too immature- mentally, physically, emotionally, and chronologically for me. Cortez is too big of a risk. The girl I used to be would have accepted his apology and melted at that smile. I’m not that girl anymore, and Cort is a risk I refuse to take.

“It’s not up to me to forgive y
ou,” I coldly say. I’m angry at Cort for hurting Ezra, especially when it’s a fight for Ez to stay sane on a daily basis. How dare Cort do that? “That is between you and Ezra. We can still be friends. But I gotta tell ya… never will you touch me again. I will never, ever, ever, ever,” I stress, “allow a man to touch me that has touched my sister.”

I close my eyes to the look of devastation on Cortez’s face. While thankful for an excuse to get out of the sex that I didn’t want to have, I hurt. “I’m sorry, too, Cort. I’m so very sorry. Actions always have a consequence. I’ve always paid for my sister’s actions, but not this time, nor ever again. This is all on you. You work it out with Ezra
, and my sister can live with ruining the last thread of our relationship.”

I stand up, feeling resolved. “I have to grab the last of my stuff from here. I’ll be back in a few. You guys figure this out.”

Fate’s pain feeds a twisted part inside me- it thrives and blooms knowing that her plan did and didn’t work. Nothing will tear the Ezes apart. Her mission was to make me never touch Cortez, but she just ensured I’d never touch Ezra again. Cort was our mutual attraction. Without him, we have no need to sexually touch.

The devastated look on Ezra face pulls at my heartstrings and proves that I’m not completely ruined or evil. I brush a few stray tears off his cheek before leaving the room. Cort’s groveling flows from the living room as I ascend the staircase.

Ding-dong

Knowing Fate is a worthless shack of shit, I go back down the steps to open the front door. Surprisingly, Fate and I reach the door at the same time. She must have wanted to escape the crying and begging and snarling.

Fate opens the door with me standing beside her. It’s probably the last time either of us will answer this door, together or otherwise.

“May I help you,” Fate cordially greets the two off
icers standing on our threshold. It’s as if she wasn’t just caught fucking her sister’s boyfriend on the family sofa. I turn to leave; countless police officers have ransacked this house over the past six months. What’s another pair?

“I’m looking for Lara Simpson,” that sentence draws me up short. “Is your mother home?”

“She’s out,” I hiss, having no clue where the hell she went.

“Are you…”
Officer One says while reading off a sheet of paper, while a silent and somber Officer Two hovers behind him. “Fate and Faith Simpson?”

“Yes, sir,”
we say in unison. I don’t know what compels me, but I grip my sister’s hand and she tightly grips back.

“I regretfully inform you that your fat
her, Thomas Simpson, has died. I’m sorry for your loss,” he quietly adds, turning to flee before he has to witness two daughters break down.

“Sir, wait,” I shout while trying to keep my stunned sister on her feet
- her slowly fading weight is pulling me to the floor. Thankfully the boys rush into the foyer, having overheard, and take Fate before she faints.

“How? He was just in court less than an hour ago?” My bewildered voice earns me a l
ook of pity from Officer Two. Hope blooms that they are wrong.

“Moments after Mr. Simpson
returned to the holding cell to await transport, one of the other inmates-” Officer Two tries to explain, but Officer One stops him.

“Sean, don’t, she’s just a kid,
” Office One interrupts.

“Tell me,” I order, “NOW! What happened to my daddy?” A hand touches my shoulder. I don’t know whose, b
ut it’s flung away with a sharp snap. Cort’s pained-filled groan has me wincing.

“Thomas Simpson was shanked to the side of the neck. He bled out within seconds. I’m sorry for your loss,”
Officer Sean says, practically running from the house. I stand in stunned silence as they get into their patrol car and back out of the drive.

I tu
rn and face them. Fate is sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth, sobbing and weeping. Cort is cradling his wrist, but he is crying because of remembered pain over his own mother’s death. Ezra looks lost, like he doesn’t know if he should be as numb as he feels.

“You take care of them. You hear me?” I say to Ezra. “I’ll be back when this is finished.”

“What… what are you doing? Don’t do anything stupid,” Ezra protests but doesn’t move to stop me. We both understand vengeance.

“Cort, I want you to know that I forgive you and that I
love you. But I will never trust you again. You betray Ezra one more time, and I will kill you,” I threaten. “It won’t matter if I love you or not.”

“Oh my God, where are you going? What are you going to do?” Cort’s voice cracks
in a panic.

“Don’t you worry about that,” I coldly mutter. “Fate, I love you because I have to, because you are my sister. But I hate the very sight of you. I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate you. And I believe you understand that gravity of that statement, providing who the rest of our family is.”

I turn back to Ez, “You don’t worry about me. I’ll be back. I have a lot of promises to keep. If I don’t see you by the time you turn eighteen, happy birthday.”

I sprint from the house to Ezra’s SUV, knowing I will never be back. I hop into the car that Marcus taught me to drive, the car that I earned my driver’s license in. I drive away and never look back.

~Chapter Twenty-Nine~

Most people would sit around and cry for a week or ten years, then when the
pain cleared, they would formulate a plan.

I am not most people.

Daddy’s death doesn’t feel real, and at the same time, I feel like I’ve mourned his loss for over six months. I’m just thankful we said our goodbyes.

As for a plan, if you want the head bitch, you take out her underling and wait. I’ve heard of the phrase woman scor
ned, and I never really thought it would apply to me. Cortez and my sister didn’t qualify. But the trust I lent to my partner…

“Pixy?” Wil shocked yelp slaps me in the face as I open his apartment door so fast and hard that it hits the wall with a huge crash. The door swings back, only it’s no longer a door, just splinters of wood.

I say nothing. I stalk across Wil’s apartment to where he sits on the sofa doing a crossword puzzle. I take him by surprise. Arm posed from above, I slash down with the fireplace poker I took from beside my daddy’s front door. Before, I’d threatened men with this length of iron. This time, I wield it with a murderous purpose.

“Ugh!” Wil grunts as his hand instinctually rises, catching the
poker mid-swing. The force takes him off the sofa, bending his arm back at an unnatural angle. Panting, grunting, Wil tries to take the weapon from my grip. We grapple to the floor. My fists land on his flesh with a sickening thud that fires excitement through my veins. I luxuriate in the knowledge that I am hurting him as much as I hurt.

The weapon is wrenched from my grip, wrist sprained from the torque. I stare into Wil’s creepy white eyes, challenging him to hit me- to put me out of my misery. I don’t even flinch when the fireplace poker meets the wall across the apartment. Wil threw it so hard that it impales the sheetrock.

“What the fuck?” Wil breathlessly gasps from trying to restrain me instead of hurt me.

Eyes bright with a strange high, I beat my partner- the man I love. Wil, the strong Wil, who never gets out of breath or loses his temper, struggles to survive. At first he thought I was fucking around, and then the blood washed over his vision from the slice above his eyebrow. One punch had such a force that it split the skin beneath my knuckles like over-ripened fruit. My laughter filled the room from the
exhilarating feel of flesh exploding flesh.

The release is potent, intoxicating- addictive. The more Wil hurts, the
better I feel. I feel enlivened as tendrils of pain, frustration, and fear leak out of me through violence.