Betrayed (The Worshipped Series Book 2) (21 page)

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

I sigh not knowing what to say. I want to tell her the truth. I want to tell her all of it. Every single bit of it. This is another new feeling to me. I have always kept secrets to myself. I had never wanted to let someone in close to enough to know anything. The one time I did, it didn’t work out so well in the end. 

“Jason please tell me something.”

I look up at her again and I see she is finished stitching me up. She takes off her gloves and starts to bandage my shoulder. 

“You really don’t want to know.” She thinks she wants to know, but I know better. The second she hears about anything of my past or what I do on a daily basis, she will hate me forever. She will want to continue to run away from me. 

She smirks at me as she says, “I know you were shot. I know you are into some deep shit with drugs or whatever else. I am not stupid. I knew as soon as you came in and I saw you bleeding. Plus with the money and the guns, it isn’t hard to guess what you go out and do when you leave.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I didn’t say that. No I’m not okay with what you do. But then again, I don’t have a say in what you do with your life.”

I think about her comment for a minute. What if she wants to be with me? Can I really change for her?

“Do you want a say in what I do?”

I watch her switch her weight from one foot to the other. “What are you asking me Jason?”

“If you want a say in what I do, knowing I will do what you asked, will you want that?” 

“I ...uh ...”

I don’t really expect her to want me after knowing a bit about my real life. What person would want this fucked up shit in their life? Any sane person would want to run far away and here I am being a selfish bastard keeping her here against her will. 

“Are you done?” I ask. 

She nods her head and I get off the bed. The room suddenly feels too small for the both of us. I start to pace, deciding what to do. I want her all for myself. I want to keep her because dammit, she is mine. I need her. I don’t want to let go of her knowing how she makes me feel. How she makes me want to feel the thing I never thought I could feel. But a small part of me, the part that I assume is my good side, tells me the right thing to do is to let her go. That I’m no good for her. That she doesn’t deserve to be with a man like me. This is too much for me to handle. I can’t figure out all these feelings right now. They confuse me. They scare me. 

I have to get out of here.

I turn around as I stop pacing and I see Karen staring at me with a confused look. Maybe she really does want to understand who I am. But I can’t do it right now. I can’t let her get close to me. I am darkness and I will consume us both. 

“Get on the bed.”

“Jason please don’t do this,” she begs. 

“I said get on the fucking bed!”

She jumps and quickly does as I demand. I know I am being harsh with her, more than I normally am, but I have lost my patience. I walk over to my bag and grab the handcuffs. I don’t look at her when I cuff her to the bed. I don’t say a word as I turn and walk out the door. 

The warm night air does little to clear my head. Why did Dominic order me to go to her? Why did I have to want her so fucking much?  Why did my darkness want to keep her? I feel as if I am being pulled into two different directions. 

To let her go or to keep her? 

“Fuck!”

I get into my truck and start driving. Pacing around outside the very room she’s in isn’t going to help me figure out my shit. I don’t know where I am going. I honestly don’t care. I do know that I do not like this fucking feeling. I have to remember how to push all emotions down again. Even if I have to poke the belly of the beast to do it, I will. Anything to help me stop feeling this…this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Free of my chest feeling as if someone is stabbing me over and over again. Free of my heart beating wildly and uncontrollably in my chest. I do not like feeling out of control. Control is what I do best. If I don’t have that then what am I left with? 

It was never this way with Rachel. Not once did I feel an ounce of this with her. Why is that? Why is it different this time? Karen does remind me some of Rachel. Is that why I want Karen so much? There are some differences between the two yes, but I don’t understand any of this. I need to keep my head clear so I can stay focused. I cannot let these emotions mess with my head so much. 

It could cost us both our lives if I do not stay on top of this. 

Before I realize where I am going, I stop in front of the first house I thought I would ever be at again. Shifting the truck into park, I turn off the engine. I let go of a heavy sigh and let my head fall back against the head rest. I stare out the window at the run down house. It has been years since I have been here. Not that my mother and I stayed in one place very long. 

The old white house looks like it is about to collapse. The paint is chipping away as mold starts to cover the entire house. The roof is rotting and sagging in the front. The yard is barren. It looks like a waste land. I don’t have very good memories in that house. I was thirteen when my mother moved us into the piece of shit home. The inside is just as bad as the outside if I remember correctly. 

I never could understand why my mother used drugs as her escape. Maybe it had something to do with my father being murdered. Maybe it had something to do with knowing I watched it happen. 

I try to tell myself that seeing my father being killed in cold blood when I was four had nothing to do with the way that I am. Thinking back on it, I don’t remember exactly what happened. I just remember all the blood. It did however, affect my mother. So much so that she turned to cocaine to get through the day. So much so that she drank herself into oblivion every night. I learned to take care of myself before I was seven. I cooked, cleaned, and took care of my mother on the nights she couldn’t. At first it wasn’t as bad. But as the years went by she got worse and worse. The older I got the more she would use and drink. She would always move us every couple of years. I never really understood why I had to leave school or the few friends I had. But by the time I turned thirteen, the last time we had to move, I figured out the truth. 

My mother made a deal with the devil. With Dominic. 

In exchange for my mother to get money to pay for her drugs, she gave me to him. His only request was she hand me over within a year after I turned fourteen. He said he would make all the arrangements to come take me to my new home. Neither one of them knew I was listening. 

A part of me couldn’t believe she would do that. But the other part of me, the darker side that I kept hidden very well back then, was curious to what kind of life I could have with Dominic. Would it be better than this one? I knew who Dominic was. Being around other crack-heads you tend to hear the things you’re not supposed to. Things that no child should know. Unfortunately, I knew it all. Every story, every sick detail I heard about. I should have been repulsed. I should have been afraid. 

I was simply curious. 

I wanted to know what Dominic could teach me. I wanted to know how he felt when he killed someone. Did he feel the same thing I did when I killed? I knew I was like him in some fucked up way. I could tell him his dark evil stare. I got that same look sometimes. 

Six months later my mother moved us away from that white old house. I don’t know why she moved us. I was due to leave with Dominic soon. I wanted to go with him. I wanted to learn and have a better life. I often wondered what made her pack us up and leave when she did. Did she finally realize what kind of man Dominic was? What he would make me into? My mother never gave two shits about me then. I couldn’t wrap my brain around why she did what she did. Before my father was murdered, she was the best mother any child could ask for. She would cook pancakes every morning for me. She would play with me and tickle me until I couldn’t breathe and begged her to stop. She was the best and loving mother then. I barely remember those times, but one thing that did stick with me throughout the years was the way her and my father interacted together. You could tell how much they loved each other simply by watching them look at each other. They were very affectionate to each other. Always holding hands, kissing. I was only four when my father died. I never understood what really happened that night. Never cared to know afterwards. 

My mother had left for the weekend to visit my aunt, and it happened while she was gone. She found me three days later sitting by my fathers bloodied and mangled body. Blood was everywhere. I only remember all the blood …. so much blood. 

I shake my head to clear my past away. How stupid and naïve I was to think I would have a better life with Dominic. If anything, my life was worse. Still is. I think of all the things I was taught at such a young age. All the things I was made to do to survive. I try and convince myself I did all the things he asked back then to survive. But deep down … deep down and I mean way down, I realize I liked every single bit of it. I didn’t want to like the things I did and still want to do now. 

But for the first time since ... well ever, I want to be different. I want things that still scare me to death. Things that I know I don’t deserve to have. I want to be a better man. I don’t want this darkness lurking over me anymore. I want to rid myself of these demons that haunt me and follow me everywhere I go. But the real question is, how do I do all that? How does a person like me change? I don’t even know where to begin. 

I continue to stare at that ugly fucking white house and all I want to do is burn it to the ground. I think burning the last place I lived, might take some of the anger and darkness away. Purge my demons in some sort of way. I know no one will ever live there again. The house is too far gone to even consider that. It takes all of two minutes for me to decide what I should do. 

I walk the five blocks with the red gas can in my hand to the gas station. No thoughts of stopping enter my mind as I fill the gas can with fuel, pay, and start to walk back. I don’t know why I didn’t drive. It would’ve been easier and a lot quicker. Maybe part of me wanted to enjoy the night air. Maybe I think I can clear my mind from thinking of the past. Of the things I did. I know I am doomed to forever suffer in hell for the things I have done. I have accepted that fate. It is what I deserve. But the good part of me, the part that is slowly starting to scratch the surface, wants to change that fate. Or at least try and make up for the things I have done. Can I really redeem myself? Simply asking for forgiveness will not cut it. Hell, I don’t even know if I believe in a God, heaven or even hell. 

Karen is the one person who would make me question everything. I still don’t understand what it is about her that makes me want to be a better man. For her, and only her. Not even Julian makes me feel this way and I should feel bad for that, but I don’t. I think about how smart Julian is and how much I have missed on his life. His birthday just passed, and my heart aches knowing I wasn’t there for him. Everything I have done in the past five years has been for him. I had to do what needed to be done to keep him safe and away from this life Dominic forced me in. I just want to survive this bullshit from Dominic just to see where this between Karen and I stand. Can we have a normal life? A life where I am not always running or killing? Would Julian forgive me for not being there for him? And most importantly, would Karen accept him if she knew the truth?

The thought of being free from it all is very addictive. And I want it. I want that life more than anything I have ever wanted before. 

I make it back to the shit-hole house and I start to drench it with the fuel. I don’t go inside the house. I know it will quickly catch fire and burn to the ground. I step back a few feet as I light a match and toss it on the fuel. Flames quickly start to engulf the house and I have to move back a few more feet so I don’t get burned. The flames consume the white house like wildfire. Before a full five minutes has passed the entire house is covered with red, orange, and gold-ish flames. I cross my arms and tilt my head to the side. I am pleased to see the white house burning so fast. At the same time, it makes me think of myself. 

I’m like wildfire. And just like wildfire, it’s hard to control and hard to put out. It will consume anything and everything in its path. 

Just like me.

Watching Jason leave with that look he has on his face is killing me. I put that look there. It’s the look of pain, and rejection. Even if he doesn’t realize what he is asking of me at the time. I don’t know myself. I hate that he left me again. I want him to stay and talk to me. I want him to know he can tell me anything. I might not like what he has done, or will do, but I know I will listen to everything he tells me without judging him. There has to be a reason he is the way he is. There has to be a reason why he does what he does now. At least I hope so.

Can I really be with a man who likes to do what he does? 

My brain feels scrambled from the overload of things I have learned tonight. Mainly from Frankie. Sweet Frankie who is barely twenty one. Frankie who is paying off a debt he had no clue his family had until his mother passed away three years ago. I have to admit, Frankie was great company to have. He was very sweet to me and actually took the time to get to know me. And he apologized about man handling me back at the other motel that set Jason off. Even though I told him multiple times it wasn’t all his fault, but he felt the need to tell me how sorry he was.