Something Like Redemption (Something Like Normal #2) (36 page)

“Hello, Child.”

Who said that?

The movement is slowed down to super slow motion as I spin in a circle, attempting to find the owner of that voice.

Everything here is different.

When I finally see him, my eyes fill with tears. But my tears are the color of rainbows, not clear or translucent.

I guess in my dreams, I cry colorful tears.

“Grandpa?” I gasp when the form of the man who died for me comes into view.

He looks just as he did the day that he died. Brown slacks held up by black suspenders, and a white cotton t-shirt.

God, I miss him.

I reach out, but my feet won’t move, as they are glued to the marshmallow floor.

“Are you okay?” I cry, my colorful tears slipping into my ruby painted lips.

Hank nods, his warm eyes smiling brightly. “I am, Child. Are you?”

Shrugging, I reply, “I’m not sure.”

The last thing I remember, I was on the run with Quinn.

Quinn.

I really wish he was here with me, as he makes everything okay.

“You love him, don’tcha?” Grandpa asks, looking carefree and happy.

“I don’t know what love is. But I think I could love him,” I reply, turning to my left and scrunching up my face when I see a winged cherub playing a song on a polished piano.

“Are we in heaven?” I ask as the cherub commences playing “November Rain” by Guns N’ Roses.

“I don’t know, Child. Heaven, hell, it don’t matter. I’m up here in the clouds, looking down on you. Let go of your vengeance, you can never win,” a voice unexpectedly whispers, but that voice morphs into three different tones.

“What?” I ask, my skin prickling in fear. “But… they killed you.”

“I deserved it because I was a stubborn fool. Fool. Fool,” he says, which echoes deeply around me.

Suddenly, Hank transforms into something that is not him.

“Grandpa?” I question, as his face begins whirling and pulsating into a swirl of blackness.

This isn’t Hank.

I try and move, but my feet are still glued to the floor. Dropping to my knees, I begin dragging my body away from the man who is cackling with that sick laugh.

My dad.

“You can run, Mia, but you can’t hide. I
will
find you, and when I do, I’m going to skin you alive.”

My eyes meet the spiteful gaze of my father, and I wish I could move, or strike out, but I can’t. I’m frozen solid because I’m afraid. I try and scream, but my mouth is glued shut, and everything melts around me.

The marshmallow clouds have turned into sludge, and I’m sinking further and further until I’m submerged up to my neck. My father slowly turns his face and I scream as the right side of his face has distorted into Phil’s.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you, over and over again, you little whore,” Phil/Dad crows, aiming the gun which killed Hank against my temple.

As I hear the trigger being cocked, my eyes pop open and I scream. My body begins writhing around the bed, desperately attempting to escape my demise.

Bed?

“Red! Red, ssshh… you’re dreaming.”

I know that voice. Focus on that voice.

However, I can’t shut up, and no matter how hard I try, I just keep yelling. I feel like absolute shit, but screaming makes me feel remotely better.

“Mia, stop it. It’s Quinn.”

His soft breath warms my tender temple as his lips press over my sweaty brow.

“Mia? You called me Mia,” I whisper gutturally, my eyes trying to make sense of where I am, but it’s pitch black.

“Yes, because that’s your name,” Quinn explains, bundling me into his chest.

“It’s not Paige?” I ask into his neck.

Why am I so damn confused?

“No, that’s not you anymore,” Quinn mumbles against the top of my head.

And he’s right; Paige died the day Hank did.

“Hank,” I sob as the dream slams into my brain, reawakening my fear.

“He’s dead,” I cry, holding onto Quinn with no intention of ever letting go.

“Ssshh. Oh, Red, I’m so sorry. Ssshh, it’s okay,” Quinn coos, his voice breaking with his pain.

Clawing onto his arms, I inhale deeply, and his warm scent calms me down.

I feel like I’m going crazy because everything is so fuzzy and sore, and I’m just so tired. It hurts to think, and I just want to switch off.

I don’t want to think, or breathe.

“Sleep, Red. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.”

And I do.

***

Birds and their damn tweeting is not a sound I want to hear when I feel like I’ve been hit by a semi. I try and turn, but my ribs feel like they’ve been in the ring and lost a round or two with Mike Tyson.

Open your eyes! I yell at myself, but they feel like they’ve been hinged closed with cement.

“Red… Are you awake?”

His soft voice is like music to my buzzing ears, and suddenly, my eyes desperately want to open.

“Quinn?” I croak, barely audible.

“Oh, thank God,” he says, a relieved breath whooshing from his chest. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

After a few moments of desperately trying to pry them open, they finally peel apart, but my vision is blurred, as there is dried gunk sticking to my lashes, hindering my vision. However, I try and focus on the one thing that is important—Quinn.

Holy shit, he looks horrible. His untidy hair is tied back at his nape, but most of it falls around his weary face. His eyes are bloodshot and lined with fatigue, and he’s in desperate need of a shave.

“You look like shit,” I say, my voice sounding like I swallowed a grater.

Quinn’s mouth tips up into a small smile as he kneels by the bed, softly grasping my hand.

“Where are we?” I ask, looking around the dimly lit room.

“Just outside of South Dakota,” he replies, his thumb rubbing my tattoo softly as his eyes never leave my face.

“South Dakota?” I choke, attempting to sit up, but Quinn’s fingers tighten around my wrist, so I stay stationary. “Shit, how many days have I been out?”

Quinn sighs as he closes his eyes briefly. “Four days.”

“What?” I ask, wincing when I attempt to sit up again. I now understand why Quinn wants me to stay horizontal as my entire body aches.

“Yeah,” he nods, his face pained as he fills in the blanks. “You were in and out of consciousness, and I tried to take you to the hospital, but you asked me not to, so I looked after you as best I could,” he says. I vaguely remember demanding no hospitals.

My head aches, and without thinking I raise my hand to my forehead, attempting to soothe my pounding temples. But as my fingers pass over a bandage, I realize my entire frame seems to be covered in gauze.

Quinn must have attended to me when I was unconscious, and the fact I’m not dead or missing a limb shows he looked after me with the utmost care.

“Thank you,” I say, wishing I could move, because I really want to throw my arms around him.

He nods, his eyes softening when I shakily reach forward, pressing my cold palm against his cheek.

“So, what now?” I ask, rubbing my thumb over his cheekbone.

Quinn smirks, leaning into my touch. “Well, first things first. You need a shower, because you fucking stink.”

I can’t help the croaky laugh that escapes my chapped lips—it’s the best sound I’ve heard in days.

Chapter 31

Hope

Twenty minutes of arguing with Quinn has mercifully paid off. He’s finally allowed me to shower by myself. He insisted he bathe me, which was so not happening.

In all honesty, I crave some alone time because I need to process everything that has happened—as
a lot
has happened.

My seedy life has finally caught up with me, and no matter how many miles I put between me and my past, it just keeps popping up, haunting me with memories I wish remained dead and buried.

I deserved everything Justin did to me, because he too, needed vengeance on the person who ruined his life. The look of rage and hatred reflected in his haunted eyes is a look I know all too well. But it also confirmed what I have always known—that I am a bad person. I have ruined countless lives and I deserve no happiness. All I seem to do is leave pain, death, and destruction in my wake, and I need it to stop.

As I look at the beaten girl staring back at me with a puffy, unrecognizable face, I realize I need this to change. I can’t live my life like this for a second longer. And I don’t want to.

But I don’t know how to make it stop.

Lifting my legs over the tub and turning on the shower is an effort, as it aches to move. But I don’t care because it warms my broken body.

I look down and cringe. My ribs are covered in purple and blue splotches, but I can see the faint yellow tinge beginning to appear as I slowly heal.

Suddenly, I realize I got off lucky. Justin, however, didn’t. I’m pretty sure Quinn killed him when he jammed a knife straight into his side. Quinn committed the ultimate crime, and he did so for me.

The thought has my teeth chattering, and I take a quick shower before drying off, as I need to talk to Quinn.

I feel semi-human as I make my way into the bedroom in a white robe, feeling clean and warm. The hot water thawed out my aches and pains.

My gaze falls to Quinn, who is propped up against the headboard, watching TV, topless.

“Hey, how you feeling?” he asks, pressing mute on the remote.

“Human,” I reply, tying back my wet hair.

He chuckles and pulls back the comforter, gesturing for me to sit. As soon as I hop under the covers, Quinn softly bundles me into his chest, my head resting against his shoulder.

“You scared me, Red,” he confesses into my hair after a minute of silence.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, closing my eyes and basking in his warmth.

“No,” he rebukes. “I’m the one who should be sorry. If I hadn’t lost my temper and left you alone, none of this would have happened.”

“None of this is your fault, Quinn. It’s all mine,” I confess. “Everything that happened—I have no one to blame but myself,” I sadly declare, snuggling closer, as touching him is giving me the strength not to break down.

“How did you find me?” I croak after a minute of silence.

Quinn sighs, the deep sound resonating in his chest. “It was pure luck. Abi’s advice came in handy.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.

“After I calmed down, I listened to my gut. I just knew we hadn’t seen the last of Justin, and the more I thought about it, I realized his note was some fucked up forewarning of things to come. I just had a bad feeling, Red, and that bad feeling was telling me he’d come back for you.” He grinds down on his jaw. “So I picked Lucky up from the vet, stole a truck, and just drove and drove, and the further out I got, I knew I was on the right track. It was pure chance I saw his truck parked not so discreetly along the highway.”

But it wasn’t pure chance, as I like to think Grandpa was looking out for me, and that he led Quinn to me.

“So, call it Divine intervention or pure luck, but whatever it was, I’m so happy I found you,” he concludes, kissing the top of my head.

“I like to think it’s Hank intervention,” I whisper, holding back my tears.

“I think you’re right, Red,” he replies, matching my tone.

We both remain silent; no doubt processing what would have happened if Quinn hadn’t found me.

Once again, Grandpa has saved my ass.

“Tell me what happened,” he softly says, his lips brushing against my temple.

He has every right to know, but when I tell him, will he think differently of me? I guess there’s only one way to find out.

“I dealt to Justin’s dad.” I sigh, the truth burning an acidic hole in my throat.

When Quinn remains quiet, I continue. “I didn’t know it was his dad, not that it makes it right. His dad…he died,” I whisper, “because of the gear I dealt him.”

Quinn is silent, his heavy breathing echoing throughout his chest.

“Justin and I, we kissed twice, when we were in high school.”

As I feel Quinn’s body tense up under me, I quickly add, “But that’s all we did. He told me he loved me, and I didn’t even know he existed.” I come clean with a hint of remorse in my voice, as it’s a horrible reality, knowing the feelings you have for another aren’t reciprocated.

“Anyway, he saw me dealing to a classmate and figured out I was dealing to his dad,” I say, leaving out the irrelevant details.

“So he wanted revenge on you?” Quinn asks, his arms tightening around my middle.

“Yes.”

“Motherfucker,” he utters under his breath.

“I dropped out of school and never saw Justin again. The whole time, however, he was scheming ways to pay me back for what I did to his dad, and I gave him the perfect opportunity when I drew attention to myself by shooting my father.”

“He knew my dad would be looking for me, so he made a deal with him and Phil. For information on where I was, they were to pay him fifty grand.”

“How did he know where we were in the first place?” Quinn questions, as I know I’m leaving out a big hunk of the story. I just want him to know the essentials before I pass out.

Sighing, I reply, “Stacey. He came looking for me in South Boston, but we had already split. Stacey, however, was more than happy to rat us out, as she had all the info from Brad.”

Quinn’s chest expands as he takes a lungful of incensed breath, but he allows me to finish.

“The day Justin ran into us was his lucky day, because he made another deal with my dad. They were to give him $80,000 for information on my whereabouts. Of course, my dad agreed. But Justin was a fool for ever believing he would see that amount of money, as I have no doubt they would have killed him before we left the room.”

“But it wasn’t enough for Justin, because as much as he wanted the money, he also wanted his vengeance. He toyed with Phil and my dad, that’s why he didn’t turn me over right away. He wanted power and control, and he wanted to fuck with me for as long as he could. However, things turned sour when his plan backfired.”