Arranged love

The song comes to an end, and a pastor steps back up to say a closing prayer. We all bow our heads, and I close my eyes, sniffing. I feel someone reach out to me on my left, and I pull the hand into mine. It’s Jasmine. She was the last one I saw standing on that side of me.

“Amen.” We say in unison.

I lift my head to reach out for Grave, but he’s not there. I look around the cemetery and spot him over by the vehicles parked on the gravel. He stands in front of his flat black Zenvo STI, and Turner is right next to him. They’re talking. Turner pulls out his cell, and they start watching something.

Grave nods a few times, and then Turner reaches out his right hand and shakes Grave’s.

I immediately turn, looking for Bones. I spot him talking to Titan off to my left. “Bones?” I call out, running over to him. “What’s going on between Grave and Turner?”

He looks from me to where his brother stands. “April …” he starts.

“I’m asking you to check it out,” I say. “I need someone to believe me.”

He frowns. “Believe what?”

That your brother isn’t the same person he was three days ago? That I see him standing in the kitchen while he stares at the bottle of vodka like he wants to down the entire thing at once. That I know, if he wanted, he could have a bottle of pills in his hands in a matter of seconds. That I’m afraid he’s at the point of no return. I can only do so much. And if he relapses, I’m not sure I can bring him back.

“April, you ready?”

I spin around to see Grave now standing behind me. His sunglasses covering his eyes. I nod and walk toward him, knowing I’m on my own. They couldn’t help him before, so they’re not going to be of any help now. I’ll do it by myself.

GRAVE

I STAND IN my closet back at my house, pulling a pair of jeans on.

“What are you doing?” April asks, entering the large space.

“I have to go to work,” I say flatly.

“Grave, it’s three a. m.” She yawns.

“I know.” I rip a shirt off a hanger and slide it on. Then walk past her, exiting.

“Grave …”

“I don’t have time, April,” I snap at her, not in the mood to argue. I have somewhere to be.

“When will you be back?” she asks softly.

“Don’t wait up,” I say before I walk down the steps and into my garage.

I start my car, open the door, and back out, squealing my tires as I drive out of the gate. Heading toward the Airport.

I pull up to the back and park. I grab the bag out of my back seat and enter the building. I take the broken escalator two at a time and enter the room.

Turner sits at the table, waiting on me.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

“Is he here?” I ask.

He nods. His eyes dropping to the bag. “Ready?”

We make our way downstairs to the underground tunnels. This existing, functional airport had a bomb shelter back in the seventies.

They have safe rooms that the Masons use as prison cells. They have their own law enforcement at the Airport. We make our way down through the tunnels and take a right at the end. Turner unlocks the master lock and yanks the door open.

A man sits in the middle of it, his arms strapped to the chair. He lifts his bloody face and looks at us. “Grave?” He fights the restraints. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Jimmy Trust,” I say with a smile.

His eyes narrow. “I knew you were into some sick shit.”

Turner laughs. “I think that you’re referring to me.”

“What is this?” he demands.

“Gonna try to pretend you don’t know why you’re here?” I ask.

“Is this because I went and visited your girl?” I tilt my head to the side. “You can’t blame me, right? That purple hair …”

I punch him in the face, cutting him off.

His head hangs forward, and he spits blood onto the floor.

“What about my sister?” Turner asks.

“What about that whore?” he snaps.

Turner smirks. “Why did you kill her?”

“What are you talking about? She committed suicide.”

“Did she?” he asks, pulling his cell out of his pocket. “Because after Grave here saved her life, I installed cameras in her penthouse.”

His eyes widen, but he recovers quickly. “Like to watch your sister fuck, Turner? You Mason brothers really are sick fucks.”

Turner places his phone in front of Jimmy and pushes play. The small room fills with Lucy’s laugh.

“Let’s get fucked up.” You hear Jimmy’s voice say.

“That’s foreplay talk there,” she tells him.

I’ve seen the video. Turner showed me at her funeral earlier today. The other brothers don’t know. As far as they are concerned, Lucy Mason committed suicide, and Turner wants it to stay that way. I’m not going to ask for his reasoning. His sister. His family. And his revenge.

Turner allows it to play. You hear them laughing and talking about nothing in particular as they swallow some pills and down some alcohol. Then you hear him say, “Let’s fuck.”

“I’m not in the mood.” Her voice comes out soft. Like it took a lot of effort just to get them out.

“Come on, baby. It’ll feel so good with the high.” He grabs her by the waist and pushes the back of her legs to the edge of the bed.

“No.” She places her hands on his chest.

“What about that foreplay you were talking about?” He reaches down and undoes her shorts.

“Jimmy …”

He tosses her onto the bed, and she begins to fight him. But she’s taken too many pills, had too much to drink. He’s much more coherent than she is. She doesn’t stand a chance against him.

“It’ll be quick,” he tells her, shoving her shorts down her legs.

“Not right now,” she slurs, closing her eyes.

You can hear him slap her, and then there’s very little struggle as he undoes his jeans, grips his hard dick and begins to fuck her. Her hands reach up and she tries to push him off, but he grabs a pillow and places it over her face, suffocating her to death. Jimmy makes sure to finish, though. Then when he gets off her, he takes what’s left of the pills and flushes them, then sets the pill bottle next to her for it to look like a suicide, hoping that they didn’t request an autopsy. A girl like Lucy-a drug addict with a suicidal background who was just released from a seventy-two-hour hold? They wouldn’t think twice about it.

“What are you going to do?” he growls when Turner ends the video.

I lean down into my bag and pull out a roll of duct tape. I rip two pieces off.

“What the fuck …?”

I place one over his lips diagonally while he tries to shake his head to prevent me from doing so. Then the other the opposite way. I go back to my bag and grab the tube.

“Hold his head,” I tell Turner.

He walks over behind the chair he’s restrained to and wraps his arm around Jimmy’s neck, in a headlock, tilting it back. Jimmy tries to fight for his freedom, but he doesn’t get it.

I walk back over to him. “You’re gonna feel some pressure …” I trail off and start to feed the tube down his nose. His body jerks, and he coughs behind the tape. His cheeks filling with air, and his eyes water. His hands clench and unclench. Once the tube is down his nose, I tip the bottle to the end and squeeze, the charcoal filling the tube. “I’m pumping your stomach, Jimmy. Just like they did hers. The only difference is that you’re going to choke on your own vomit and die.”

“Like the piece of shit you are,” Turner adds with a sinister smile.

His body starts to convulse, and we both let go of him, stepping back. We watch his body turn on itself while he chokes on his own vomit. It shoots out his nostrils, and his eyes grow cold before his head falls forward, going limp.

Turner looks over at me. “Thanks for the help.” He slaps my back.

I just nod. If it were up to me, I would have buried him alive, but this was Turner’s revenge. I’m just happy he let me be a part of it.

He pulls a joint out of his pocket and lights it up. Taking a hit, he then hands it over to me. I stare at it for a long time, thinking about Lucy and how I let her down. How, once again, I wasn’t there for her. I should have saved her. I don’t love her the way she needed me too, but I did care for her.