Savage Rage, page 28
Ivy grabs my mug before Astraea knocks it all over the bed and she puts it away, then they both hug me—naked and all—until we all fall over on the bed.
Astraea starts planting kisses all over my face and Ivy just clings to me.
“We love you too, Kimmy!” Ivy squeals.
“Yes!” Raea says. “You know that right?”
“All my life I’ve never met anyone like you!” Ivy goes on. “You’re a fucking gorgeous badass.”
“Bitch, that’s what I thought the first time I saw her!” Raea exclaims. “Drop dead gorgeous and dangerous as fuck.”
If only they knew just how dangerous I am…
“God, you two suck! It took all my guts to say that shit and you cut me off,” I whine sarcastically. “I wasn’t done.”
“Oh? Was there more?”
“You looked a little constipated,” Ivy says. “We just decided to save you, put you out of that messy but cute love confession.”
Of course.
If there are two people who know I’m not good with words—especially when I’m attempting to convey how I feel or what I’m thinking—it’s these two heifers.
“And damn, Kimmy, I love how soft and perky your boobs are at high noon,” Ivy says seriously. “Sexy porn shit.”
“Why thank you. They’re happy to be felt by you.”
“We should’ve been lesbians. You and I would be so hot together.”
“I know right! We’d set this town on fire.”
Astraea bursts out laughing then she grabs her belly. “Oh, stop making me laugh so hard. His or her majesty in here is probably sleeping.”
I lean over until my lips are right over Astraea’s baby bump. “Mic check, your royal highness of the blue dynasty, can you hear me?”
Ivy and Astraea laugh so hard, I can’t help but soak up the positivity in the room
“Yeah, this is your Aunt Kimmy speaking. Can you wake up and let your mama laugh? When she goes to sleep later you can sleep along with her.”
“What? Do you know whose kid you’re talking to?” Ivy scoffs, leaning over my back to speak to the baby. “This is Alexander King’s child. You think he or she will negotiate with us peasants?”
I look at my best friend. We both have serious expressions on our faces.
“You know what, I think you’re damn right.”
“Damn straight. We might as well lawyer up now in preparation for when he or she comes,” Ivy says solemnly. “We might get sued for telling him or her what to do.”
“Then we’ll sell one of them ponies you mentioned,” I say seriously.
“And then get doubly sued for emotional trauma by Lolo, Casey and their gang of ruthless, hard men?” Ivy deadpans. “I’m flat broke, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“You two are the worst,” Astraea says, laughing.
* * *
Time passes with us like that.
We catch up and talk about silly things, shit that Ivy’s been seeing on TikTok and the new sex toy she just bought from Amazon that she’s waiting for.
“You bought a sex toy?” I ask, stunned. Ivy, well, she’s not conservative, no. She’s just a bit on the shy side. “Like an actual sex toy?”
“Yes! And it’s my first time too! I can’t wait to try it out!”
“What’s it like?” Astraea asks. “I lost my virginity to a dildo.”
“Wait, what?” Ivy and I ask at the same time.
Astraea smiles sadly, then shakes her head. “I just didn’t want to make a big deal of it or give someone else that power over me.”
Of course. I understand what she means to the core.
When your dignity, your pride and innocence is stripped away from you, torn out, forcefully taken in such a cruel, violent way, it creates a hell like prison that you can’t escape out of.
Some have learned how to exist in that rusty, pungent prison.
Others gave up a long time ago.
And then there are those that still claw until they bleed, desperate to get out.
Astraea is definitely the last one. As for me, I’m the coward that never once faced what happened to me.
We fall silent, but not for long.
Individually, we three are a little bit too good at silence, so when we’re together, we try to be a little less broken. It just works that way.
Ivy jumps to describe her new toy like it’s a new adventure for her.
“Ah, it’s got these settings right, so depending on your mood and how you want to take it, you can just press a button. And it has this clit thing and the big, thick part…”
Ivy stumbles all over her words. She’s freaking adorable, this intelligent being.
Her curly hair smells amazing, spread out on my pillow with her delicate brown hands in the air, describing the toy.
“I swear, waiting for a package will make you feel like an addict! I check the delivery status every few hours.”
“Right! The anxiety!”
Astraea talks about all the books she’s been reading, the movies she’s been watching and the fact that she’s getting into K-pop these days.
Ivy and I are stunned at how late to the game our poor girl is.
Just then, there’s a soft knock on the door and then slowly, we all watch as it opens and in comes… well, well, well.
“Uh, I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she starts timidly, her face red as a fucking fire engine truck.
I stare at Lara, Brittney’s fucking best friend and George’s baby mama and apparently, Emmett’s long-lost sister. At the cabin last year, she swore she had no more ties with Brittney and that she wasn’t involved in anything that bitch did.
But I’ve since learned not to trust a word that comes out a desperate woman’s mouth. Mother or not.
But why is she here though?
She doesn’t even have the guts to look at me.
Could she be the bitch that’s working with David? Maybe she worked with her bestie to snatch my sisters and fuck with me.
“What do you want?” I snap.
Ivy quickly nudges me with her sharp elbow and then gives me one of her fake, porcelain doll smiles. I roll my eyes.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” Lara starts. I can hear faint traces of an accent. Is it Russian? Italian?
Who is this girl?
“It’s all right, Lara, you’re not disturbing.” Ivy the fucking pretty wallflower, faux saint says kindly. “Is there something you need?”
“I…” I watch as her gaze moves from Astraea to Ivy and then to me. She quickly looks away. “I prepared lunch and brought it over. I was wondering if—”
“I’m good.” I say immediately.
Astraea doesn’t even say a word, but she’s not me. She at least politely shakes her head.
“Oh, uh, thank you,” Ivy says sweetly. “But Astraea just ate, she’s good. Kimmy doesn’t eat at noon and I’m good too.”
“Oh.”
The girl stands there looking like we just kicked her fucking puppy, but it’s the truth. I really don’t eat at noon and Astraea’s been burping like crazy.
Lara’s face pales some.
She is beautiful, that can’t be ignored. With her long jet-black hair that reaches her waist, her striking green eyes that look like Emmett’s, the resemblance is almost there. Baby Claire is just as gorgeous as her mother.
But right now, Lara looks lost, but I don’t feel sorry for her. Not one bit.
“So, uh, Claire’s out in the yard playing with Laura and Casey and their new ponies,” Lara says softly.
At that, I pause.
I don’t want to be one of those assholes that punish kids for the sins of their parents or guardians.
Children are innocent and baby Claire is only a year and six months old now.
And since her father, George, is also my cousin, it makes baby Claire my niece in a way.
Besides, Lolo and Casey love toddlers, so I know it’s a good thing that they’re playing with Claire.
“That’s good,” I murmur awkwardly.
“How’s Claire feeling today?” Astraea asks, her voice hoarse. “She had a fever these past few days, right?”
Lara looks up with something shining in her eyes, but it quickly disappears.
“Yes,” she quickly says. “She’s much better now, thank you.”
Astraea nods and then goes back to staring at the ceiling.
I do the same, lying back down on the bed, my naked chest covered by the sheets.
Ivy is the only one that actually waves at Lara when she leaves, but the silence that falls over us after she’s gone is one of mutual distrust for that woman.
“Try to be nice,” Ivy says after a while.
“That’s not in my default settings,” I mutter.
“Then you need a factory reset, bitch,” she presses. “It’s obvious there’s a story there.”
“A story no one will talk about,” Raea whispers. “And that’s the part that hurts the most.”
“It’s not like we’re any better though,” Ivy mutters. “Something serious must’ve happened and there’s an innocent child in the mix. I’m sure it’s way complicated than we realize.”
Ivy is right. Whatever it is that happened between George and Lara must be huge and I think a whole lot damaging if they’re both choosing silence over speaking about it.
But now, seeing how my own silence has ruined my life, I wonder if they can see what their vow of silence is doing to the people closest to them
“I’m sure the entire truth will be revealed in time,” Ivy goes on. “But for now, let’s try to be nice.”
I get where Ivy is coming from, I really do.
Of the three of us, she’s the most normal.
I think I’ve envied that about her from the first time we met.
But now, looking at the clusterfuck that is my life, the mess has become so familiar to me that I wouldn’t know what to do with normal.
I guess that’s how I know that any kind of attempt to have a future with Noah is already doomed.
28
Kim
Trying not to dwell on that shit, we get back to catching up.
Ivy rummages in the walk-in closet and brings back one of Noah’s large shirts for me to wear.
She also kindly hands me my toothbrush with a small smile on her face.
“You could’ve said something earlier,” I murmur.
“And mess up your love confession for me? Nope.”
They both start laughing, I’m never going to live that one down. Never.
As I freshen up in the bathroom, my phone rings with a restricted number.
Like a visceral reaction, my heart starts pounding as if I’m in danger.
I stare at the vibrating phone, fear snaking its way down my spine.
I swore never to answer a restricted number ever again. Because the last time I did, Larry found me and my sisters.
After two more rings, the call ends.
Larry is dead. He has to be fucking dead.
There’s no way he wouldn’t have come for me if he wasn’t. He’s dead.
But why don’t I believe it?
Just then, a text pops up on my phone.
With a trembling hand, I reach for the cursed device as Ivy and Astraea’s laughter filters in the bathroom like a prelude to something.
Could it be Christina? Where the hell is she anyway?
The text is simple, but it’s from a restricted number as well.
We must meet.
* * *
I’m thinking long and hard about the text as Astraea shares her latest mommy-to-be adventures about the time she and King went for a long drive, and she had to pee every fifteen minutes.
“I swear, he was ready to just buy a damn R.V., lift me up and deposit me in the damn bathroom so I could pee to my heart’s content.” She throws her head back and laughs only to groan in discomfort.
“Alex really hates inconveniences,” Ivy says with her sweet, melodic laugh.
“Well, he’s got to learn to deal with it. He did this to me.”
“And you’re happy,” I say softly, getting back in bed now decently dressed.
It’s then that a soft, comfortable silence creeps in on us.
Both Astraea and Ivy are on the either side of me.
We stare up at the ceiling, each with our own demons and bitter-sweet thoughts.
“You know, Kimmy, you’re stronger than you think,” Ivy starts softly. “You’ve survived shit that has literally killed other people, destroyed them until they can no longer stand to struggle through yet another endless day, but here you are, still fighting.”
Tears sting my eyes all over again.
“It’s crazy though,” Astraea starts. “When you’re going through it, you really want to just…”
“Give in to the despair and find peace in the nothingness.”
“Yes.”
“Which, let’s be honest, is the most underrated thing,” Ivy says vehemently, sitting up in bed now. Astraea and I turn to look at her. “We should just learn to let go of things that are bad for us.”
Silence.
“You doing okay?” I whisper, watching my sweet friend who’s actively trying to tough it out.
“I’m fine!” she says seriously. “I’m more than fine. I’m super-duper incredible!”
Okay then.
Who am I to try and talk her into admitting her true feelings?
“But for real, Kimmy, you’re not alone. Not anymore,” Ivy says softly, turning to look at me. “When the voices start whispering in your head that you’re not worth it, or that you’re alone and undeserving of good things, just open your eyes. You’ll see us.”
“Voices,” I mutter past my clogged-up throat. “You sound like you know a bit about that.”
Another heavy silence.
“I do,” she whispers sadly after a minute or two. “More than I want to.”
I don’t know what Ivy’s going through, but I reach for her hand and squeeze.
It’s the quiet ones, the ones that smile a lot, are polite to everyone and their puppies, they’re the ones that usually go through some untold storms.
“Nobody will tell you how much you’re nothing more than your own mind,” Raea whispers softly. “Your own mind will taunt you, mock you, whisper all sorts of negative shit and guess what…”
“You believe it,” I say.
“Because you’ve thought all that crap about yourself before,” Ivy finishes.
Self-loathing is one hell of a monster.
It’s even more pronounced when your reality is crap.
A drug addict of a mother who’s in love with an abusive, narcissistic psycho.
Two baby sisters born in horrible conditions that I might lose.
Always having to fight off the advances of lewd men until finally, your sperm donor captures you, chains you up in a dungeon and takes payment from men to take advantage of your body as much as they want.
How can I not hate myself?
The sight of my own reflection in the mirror is a head trip, reminding me of all the mistakes I’ve made and all the secrets I don’t know about my own life.
I grab Astraea’s hand as well. I don’t really need to say much, I know she knows.
“Kimmy,” she starts.
“Soon,” I murmur. I’ll talk about it soon.
I just need to muster up all my courage and honor the promise I made a week ago to the man I’m in love with.
“When you’re in this state, words of affirmation and encouragement always feel redundant, like pouring water on hardened ground,” Ivy says softly.
And she’s right. It really does feel like that.
I know they’re trying their best to cheer me up, but the way my mind works…
“But if there’s one thing you need to know, it’s that you’re not alone.”
“And you’ll never be alone. Ever.” Raea says softly. “We’re here and we love you, no matter what.”
“No matter what?” I croak.
So they know. About me and my… issues.
Ivy and Astraea nod, the sincerity shining bright in their eyes.
“I just love y’all,” I murmur. “Really.”
“You better,” Ivy giggles. “It took me hours to get my hair looking this good just to come see you.”
“I one hundred fucking percent know you didn’t do that for me, heifer,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Besides, we all know how much care you put in your hair.”
“W-what do you mean?” she stutters.
“You know exactly what I mean.” I nudge her. “Besides, remember when Astraea cut her hair and ended up looking like someone mowed her head?”
“Dude, you set your own hair on fire! At Christmas no less!” Raea says with obvious exasperation.
“Ah, the good old days,” Ivy sighs.
We laugh, but we all know it’s not really funny.
Our relationship with how we look, our hair, our body types, shape whatever else… it not only shows our mental and emotional state of being; it shows how much we love and accept ourselves.
And for me, that’s been pretty hard.
When I look in the mirror, I hate the girl I see there. Because I never know how she’ll behave or what she’ll say.
She’s my worst enemy. And I struggle to love her. To myself.
“Gran always says my hair is my crown,” Ivy says softly, brokenly. “But sometimes I think she sees the woman that birthed me when she says that, not really me.”
I squeeze her hand tighter.
The topic of mothers is bitter for all three of us.
Ivy’s mom abandoned her and a four-year-old Spider in front of their grandmother’s front door in the dead of winter a few days after Ivy was born, then she disappeared without a trace.
Astraea’s mom, well, she made some pretty bad decisions, suffered in silence, and in the end, met a sad ending.
My mother… well, she’s somewhere out there high and drunk while I’m here, trying like all hell to protect my sisters while new secrets about my mother’s life spring up out of nowhere—secrets that I’m now paying for apparently.
I don’t know what that says about us that we’re this close despite our upbringing, but I do know that we became a close band of best friends for a reason.
