54 Broken

54 Taken
Date = 21 January
Place = San Francisco (Haunted house)

POV – Melaena
The little boy holds out his chubby arms, raven black hair in serious need of a comb, the face of a little angel, sinlessness exemplified by big green eyes highlighted against thick dark lashes — an image of perfection.

He smiles at me and the dimples in his cheeks deepen, a small finger wiggles for me to follow him. He runs too fast and I’m lost in the dark.

“Mommy!” The toddler appears, smiling at me. Then his eyes turn hazy, fearful, as claws reach from the shadows to pull him toward the darkness. I run forward, frantically, as if knowing I’m his only hope. His hand grabs mine, but slowly it slips from my grip and he gets pulled further and further away until he’s entirely engulfed in the blackness.

A hand covers my mouth, obstructing me from shouting, and I get dragged down the hall, away from the dead of darkness that swallowed the boy. I struggle to get away from the hands that are pulling me. I need to save my kid.

“Melaena, let him go. He’s not mine.” It’s D. I’m frozen.

“NO!” I yell.

“Melaena!” I can’t see his face but the voice sounds familiar.
“Melaena!” Someone is shaking me. “Open your eyes. You’re dreaming.” I blink my eyes a few times and then lift my stiff aching body into a sitting position. It’s dark, the only light coming from a small window, boarded up with planks — no glass. I’m lying on a bed, a hard lumpy one. I put my feet on the ground and the bed squeaks like hundreds of baby rats looking for food. The eerie sound sends a shiver down my spine. Was I dreaming? Why did it feel so real … so familiar?

“Eventually, bitch. I thought you were never going to wake up,” Kiara scolds me but her voice is hoarse and soft and I can hear the anxiety bubbling out. I blink my eyes again, trying to get them accustomed to the darkness. I make out her figure, a spooky shadow in the dim light.

“Kiara? Where are we?” Before she can answer little arms grab me around my neck, throwing me off balance. The grip is so tight I’m almost choking.

“Mel, I’m so glad you’re up!” Baffled I turn my head to see Luke’s face leaning on my shoulder. That sweet cookie smell all kids seem to have displaces the moldy one from the room.

“Luke? What the hell is going on?” I try to find Kiara’s hands and then I clutch onto them, trying to combine our strengths.

“I think Harry drugged and kidnapped us. It’s the only thing that makes sense,” she says softly. I think back and I remember the car … there was an accident.

“Drugged?” I repeat, trying to get my mind into place.

“You think it could harm the bean?” Kiara sounds worried and now I’m thinking the same thing. My hands move over my tummy protectively.

“Let’s hope it’s okay.”

“What bean?” Luke asks scrunching his nose.

“A magic one,” I answer quickly, to which he rolls his eyes saying “Whatever.”

“Are you hurt?” I ask. A dim pain throbs in my left wrist and after I do a quick recall, I’m pretty sure it’s broken or at least badly bruised. And I lost my watch.

“Nothing life-threatening on my side and Luke is fine.” I scan over them, just to reassure myself, but even though Kiara has some blood and bruises on her face and arms, she seems to be alright.

I can see through the window that day is turning to night. Even if nobody realizes that Kiara and I are missing, they’ll definitely be looking for Luke.

“They’ll come for us, don’t worry,” I say and Luke puts his arms around me and leans against my chest.

“I’m not worried. Damion and Alejandro will kick their buts!” I smile at his total trust in his big brothers and the way he’s trying to comfort me.

“Let’s see if we can find a way out.” I get off the bed and take small steps forward, trying to navigate in the dark room.

“I think I found a light!” I softly mumble to my co-captures, trying to sound enthusiastic and brave. I feel around with my fingers and find something that might be a switch. I flick it and a not-so-very-bright light fills up the room and relief spools over me. At least we can see a bit better now.

Suddenly an ear-piercing gut-wrenching scream sounds up just outside the door to our left and we all cover our ears for a few seconds.

“What the fu … frick?” I change the word just in time, not wanting to swear in front of Luke, but he’s way too observant. Guess it runs in the family too.

“Don’t worry, I’m not a kid anymore … I’ve heard the word loads of times.” He smirks at me and I mess up his hair even more. A key turns in the the door, where the scream just came from, and instinctively I move a few steps back, getting between the door and the bed.

I try to hide Luke behind me but the dude is at that stage where boys are more brave than bright. And if I have to ponder about it … they seem to get stuck there. Men never grow up — at least not the ones I have in my life.

I anxiously watch the door open — slowly with a creaking sound from years of neglect. Grandpa on Mom’s side has the same noise in his knees.

A big ugly beast steps in, bold with a beard, and moves to the side, making space for none other than Harry to enter, his dark eyes piercing right through me, sending chill after chill down my spine.

“Ah, you’re awake. At last, my son got the dosage right … I think he might have slightly overdosed you at the club last time. He said you had some horrible hallucinations.”

“You think.” I was seeing worms. And clowns. Ugly frickin clowns.

“It happens. Sorry about that.” He shrugs his shoulders. “No harm done.”

“You are one ugly son-of-a-bitch,” Luke reports as he grabs my arm in a tight clutch.

Harry moves those dark eyes to the boy. I’m trying to cover him, but the lad is not cooperating, and he wiggles his way off the bed to stand beside me.

“You know,” Harry declares with a gruff voice, “I’ve never believed in punishing the child for the sins of his father.” It hits me solidly — he knows about Luke. That Garcia is his real dad. Icy fingers grab around my throat and my breath hitches, waiting for that ‘but’ to call our fate.

“But —” and there it is. “Your daddies taught me that there are no moral codes in war.” I start to hyperventilate. Is he going to do something to Luke?

“They scarred my children, broke them. And now I’m going to do the same. One son of each monster will suffer.” So Luke … and one of my brothers. But which one?

“My father is a doctor,” Luke replies proudly, “He doesn’t sin. He helps people.” Poor boy knows nothing.

“If only he was your real daddy … you would not be here. But unfortunately, we can’t choose our fathers —” Harry steps forward and eyeballs me. “Can we, Melaena?”

Luke looks up at me with questions in his hazel eyes — that he got from his real dad. Questions I’m not sure I can answer right now.

“Who?” I bravely look Harry in the eyes. I have to know which one of us is taking the rap for our father.

“It wasn’t a hard choice,” his eyes glaze with hate. I know that look. It’s the same one Jackson gets when you mention Alexander. “Your actor brother raped my little girl. Took her virginity and threw her out like trash.” Enrique? He would never do that. I know my brothers are man-whores at best … but they won’t rape anyone.

“Enrique won’t do that,” Kiara says coldly. Harry just snorts out an abhorred laugh that leaves me cold. “And yet he did.” We won’t convince him, I realize that. His crazy daughter must have lied to him. Spin him a sop story.

“Are you going to kidnap Enrique too?” I ask, but he gives a dismissive hand gesture and glares at the egghead at the door. The man seems self-condemnatory, unmistakably avoiding Harry’s eyes.

“My S.T.U.P.I.D men,” he growls harshly, “Grabbed the wrong fucking twin! Again.” The hairless brute twitches slightly and shuffles his feet. “But they will fix their mistake,” he sneers, still eyeballing the red-faced jittery imbecile. If they grabbed the wrong twin … it means Jackson is here.

Jackson, he has Jackson! I put my hands in my hair, pulling it while I let out a helpless grunt. Kiara pumps me in the ribs and I look at her face. She wiggles her eyes at me and says, “Mel, they have J.a.c.k.s.o.n,” pulling out my brother’s name.

Yeah, I know. She bumps me again and gestures with her eyes. And then I get it … Jackson … my crazy psycho brother … who will definitely do something unexpected. He might just be the miracle we need.

“Yeah,” Harry pipes. “I don’t know what to do with that one.” He lifts his chin and tries to smile, but the scars on his face contract, keeping his mouth in a straight line. It looks off.

“He is a loose canon … and my son wants him dead too. But the kids will have to choose … one corpse each.” I’m not even sure what that means.

“Oh, how noble of you,” I flap. His eyes are hazed as if he’s seeing a vision. He blinks a few times and then looks at me.

“I told you before, my kids have their own agendas …” He sighs deeply. “I can’t withhold them from taking a little revenge. They need it as much as I do.”

My heart falls into my shoes. This kidnapping … us … it is not looking good. They can … and will … use us as leverage to get what they want. We need to figure something out. To start, knowing more about Harry’s plan is key.

“So you do all this for revenge?” Throwing a person off guard is the best way to get information … a hint from Jackson. “Hurting innocent people. You’re acting exactly the same as Alexander.” It hits a nerve.

“I AM NOTHING LIKE HIM,” he sneers angrily. Definitely hit a nerve.

“It’s not just about revenge, darling,” he says grimly, but his eyes flare with anger, and his hands fists at his sides. I cringe. I need to keep my cool. There’s a lot more at stake than just my life. I have a bean to think of.

“It’s about power. Enough to take over The Circle. Revenge is just the sweet little cherry on top.” So all this is for power? Greed.

“What’s The Circle?” Luke asks with a bored face.

“It’s a rich and powerful group. They are untouchable. My friend and I have BIG plans for the future.”

“It’s nice to dream,” I snip.

“Oh, you’re lucky … Darren wants you. You’re going to marry into our family. You’ll live like royalty.” I gag down the vomit pushing up. D eventually has a full name — Darren. Jackson was right.

“I’m nobody’s princess,” I say feeling nauseous. Maybe my bean does not like having its daddy replaced with some psychopath.

“Mel is my brother’s girlfriend. My brothers are going to GUT you!” Luke shouts, his eyes brimming with anger. I swear all the Grimms suffer from some kind of stupid death-or-glory slant.

Harry’s face contorts into another sinister Joker-type smile. He opens the door to leave but turns back. He laughs softly and makes a tsk-tsk-tsk sound with his tongue.

“I won’t count on it, little Garcia. I won’t count on it.” Then he’s gone.

We stare at the closed door for an unknown amount of time after he leaves, just blankly looking at it without blinking as if it is our last hope.

“So it’s safe to say he’s totally bonkers,” Luke scoffs. Kiara falls onto the bed, probably due to the same tension I’m feeling in my body.

I try to open the door, knowing it won’t budge. Then I look around, taking in our surroundings.

I walk to the planked window and look outside, but only see trees in the moonlight. And the ocean in the distance. We are on the second floor of the building. Kiara joins me and she squints her eyes as if that’s going to tell her exactly where we are.

I turn around to take a better look at the room. It’s not very big and it seems as if nobody stayed here for a long time — there are visible cracks in the moss-covered walls; torn pink wallpaper is still evident on one wall; broken tiles that fell from the bathroom walls — all clear signs of decay. At least the bathroom hosts a toilet that seems to be in not-too-bad shape — a good thing since the bean likes to squash my bladder more than needed.

“Something about this house seems familiar, don’t you think?” Kiara asks.

“It’s just an old freaking house in the woods … with horses on the door and a big-ass chandelier and a huge staircase,” Luke pouts. “It’s ugly and dirty and broken.”

I look at Kiara and she seems just as shocked as me. Could we be in the haunted house?

“I’m hungry, do you think they gonna feed us sometime?” Luke complains while opening a broken cupboard as if he’s going to find some hidden food inside. Wind blows through the unglazed window, and clears the fog from my mind. We need a plan.

The sound of the door unlocking again makes me stand in front of Luke while holding my breath. Another huge man, covered in tattoos, walks in and drops a pizza box and bottles of water onto the only table in the room.

His gaze moves hungrily over me and then settles on Kiara. He licks his lips and I can feel Kiara’s grip squeezing the hell out of my arm, but I don’t dare to flinch or move.

“Eat up.” His eyes still clinging to Kiara’s chest. His lustful gaze moves back to me and he gives me a stinky grin before he locks the door behind him.

“We need to get out of here.” She nods and bites her lip. Luke rushes over to the pizza and grabs a big slice, putting it almost whole in his mouth.

“Go slow, dude. It’s not going to run away,” I laugh, trying to be brave for him. Kiara takes a piece of pizza and hands me one.

“We need to keep up our strength and you need to feed the bean.” I take it reluctantly from her, knowing she’s right, but I also don’t want Luke to stay hungry. I decide to eat only one piece, and then let him have the rest.

“What is it with you girls and beans, huh?” Luke comments with a mouth full of food. Kiara laughs, but it’s not a happy one. He stuffs that pizza into his small body with big bites until nothing is left.

He yawns and rubs his eyes with his fists. We all get onto the bed and I cover Luke with the thin one-and-only blanket, stroking his dark hair.

“Why did that man call me Garcia?” Luke asks while Kiara fiddles with a loose spring sticking out from the worn mattress, looking at it as if she blames it for all our troubles.

“Well … eh … I think it’s something you have to ask your mom when you see her again.” I don’t know what to tell him.

“Is it because of Sophia?” For a second I’m not sure who that is, but then it dawns on me that she’s his birth mother. So does he know he’s not Haley’s son then?

“Yes. But don’t think about that now. Now we need to think up plans.” He nods eagerly.

Kiara pulls a straight side-grin and I know by now it’s her I’m-fucking-scared face.

“Okay then.”

“It’s cold,” Luke complains, so we snuggle up close and huddle under the blanket, trying to use our body heat to keep warm — in silence, each one occupied by our own thoughts. Somewhere along the line, Luke and Kiara fall asleep. But I can’t seem to drift off.

I know that Uncle John and the boys will do everything possible to save us, but what if they’re too late? Or worse … get killed?

What if they hurt Luke, cut up Jackson, rape Kiara, kill my baby? I’m not sure which of these scenarios is worse … and I for sure as the raging fires of hell don’t want to find out. Time seems to stretch out, each second seems like an hour and each hour seems like a lifetime.

Every little noise has me jerking up, unsettled, just to flump down again. My arm pounds with pain, but somehow I welcome it, needing something to ease the fear clinging to my spine like a freaking demon to the gates of hell.

The door opens again and then I feel like I’m going to faint or throw up, or both. For a moment I think that maybe I am hallucinating again, but Kiara’s fingernails stab into the skin of my upper arm and I know she is seeing the exact same sight as me.

Tattoo-creep drags in a man that looks almost like Uncle John’s twin and drops him with a ‘THUD’ on the floor, unceremoniously, before kicking him in his ribs.

“Ug,” he snorts painfully, curling into the fetal position. Tattoo-creep laughs out loud and winks at Kiara before leaving. I swallow down some spit, although my mouth is as dry as the Sahara desert. Neither Kiara nor I attempt to move, we just stand there looking at each other with huge owl eyes, contemplating the possibility of the situation.

There, laying on the floor, in the flesh, is my fucking long-lost father. Sorry, but this situation calls for a real swear word. He groans pitifully again drawing our eyes to him, his body and clothes covered in blood — a rotten metallic stench, mixed with sweat, radiates from him and I pinch my nose close with my fingers.

“Yuck, he stinks!” Kiara is also holding a finger under her nose. This brings me into action and I turn him onto his back slowly. Kiara grabs a bottle of water and hands it to me. I hold it to his battered lips. His steel-gray eyes open and I can see the wondrous confusion in them.

“Miranda?” I guess I remind him of my mother. A smile spreads over his face and he reaches out and softly strokes my cheek with his thumb.

“Melaena!” He comes to his senses a little. Numbness takes over my body, I don’t feel anything, zilch, nothing and to top it off, I can’t think as well. I’m sure even my autonomic system has shut down, I’m not blinking or breathing … and my heart has stopped.

“Hey, Dad.” He frowns slightly and then looks worried, hurt, and even broken. Something in his eyes reminds me of Ilkay, maybe Logan, I’m not sure, but I’ve seen that look somewhere before.

“I’m so sorry, for everything,” his voice is a soft whisper, his eyes sad, as a single tear runs down his right cheek and drips to the floor. A dirty hand grabs mine and holds it tight, the fingertips bloody, looking like raw meat. They’ve removed his nails. Holy-fucking-shit! Must be the yelling we’ve heard before.

“They have Jackson,” his voice is so soft and weak, but I heard it as clear as daylight. “He fought to protect me and they beat him up.” My stomach churns and it feels as if the bean is trying to press all my organs up my throat at once. The demon clutching my spine increases his grip causing a dull ache to spread through my body.

“He’s okay for now. That son is tough. He is not going down easily,” he says proudly. I smile. That’s Jackson alright.

“Suppose it’s been forced into him … all the shit they had to go through. And I could not protect them from it. I’m so sorry.” I’m not sure what he’s talking about. But I can feel the regret in his aura.

Breathe, in-out, in-out, breathe, in-out, in-out, just keep breathing. I blow out a long breath; take in a short one; then repeat. But it’s as if each breath robs me of oxygen instead of replenishing it in my lungs.

“Mel, stay calm, think of the bean …” Kiara’s hand on my shoulder helps to jag me from the rim of spiraling out of control. Long breath in … slow breath out … I feel my lungs fill up … working again.

“Mel, I wish we had more time to tell you how sorry I am for everything. I know I’ve made mistakes, but Jackson will explain it all when you get out of here.” His eyes are pleading with me for forgiveness but I don’t know if I can do that. I look at his mangled-up body and decide to smile at him, it’s not what he wants, but it is a start.

“I’m so glad you ended up with Damion, if it’s not destiny I don’t know what is. He’s a good lad. Mel, I’ve never stopped loving you or your brothers, never. Maybe one day you’ll understand and I hope then you can find it in your heart to forgive …”

“We need to get a little something from Daddy.” I didn’t even hear Tattoo-man unlock the door and give a rattled jerk at the sound of his deep voice. This time he brought a friend — the muscle man with the shaved head and uncontrolled beard from earlier. Harry is standing in the doorway. I get shoved away from my father’s body and then the tatted muscle man digs a knee onto my dad’s back and points a gun to his head.

Beard-jerk pins Dad’s left arm out in a tight grip to the ground and grips his wrist while holding out a knife. I jump up as if I was stung by a bee, Luke is now sitting up on the bed, his eyes still sleepy. I need to get to him, I need to protect him.

“You might want to close your eyes,” Harry says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Instinctively I draw the blanket over Luke’s head while Kiara obediently closes her eyes with her hands.

Look away, Mel, look away now. But I can’t.

Tattoo-jerk slams the knife down and with a sickening bump-splat noise my father’s pinky lays on the ground separate from his hand. My father’s groan rings in my ears and I put my fist into my mouth to keep myself from making a sound or puking … whichever comes first.

Kiara chooses to open her eyes just when Tattoo-jerk picks up the cut-off limb while simultaneously wiping his knife clean against his sleeve. She looks at my father’s hand and lets out a scream that might just wake the dead, before slamming her hand over her mouth. Luke squirms viciously under the blanket and I let him go. His head pops out and he stares at the bloody scene in silence … frozen with shock.

“Oh, come on girls, we need something to send to your family, and you don’t want me cutting off your fingers now, do you?” Harry smirks before they close the door and I hear the tell-tale sound of the lock. My father is clutching his disfigured hand, his face bloodless, while the red liquid oozes through his fingers covering the wound. The look in his eyes mirrors mine, terrifying FEAR.