29

29

KADE

THE FINAL FLASHBACK

Life kind of gave me a second chance.

Mum kept me close for days after finding me on the boat and forcing her fingers down my throat while she called for emergency help. In fact, she refused to let me leave the house.

My therapist visited me while I lay in bed on day one, staring at the wall in silence.

I wouldn’t speak to anyone. Not even my dad.

My friends don’t know what happened, but Dez knows I’m a mess.

He came over a few days ago and said I should get out of bed and at least wash, then forced me into a shower and refused to leave until I got ready and ate lunch with him. I told him Stacey fucked me over and I was done with her, but that’s all.

Jason hasn’t said a word, and Mum keeps begging me to speak to him, to see if there’s been a misunderstanding. I refuse to even look at him. He was downstairs the other day, and all I wanted to do was fucking strangle him.

Ewan went ballistic at him. I overheard him asking what the fuck he was playing at and how long he’d been sleeping with a teenager.

Stacey has given up trying to call, so she’s probably settled right in with him. Fucking bitch.

I’m just done.

“Hey, dickhead. Are you even paying attention?”

I look up at Base as we sit in the airport, waiting for one of his grandfather’s men to escort us to our flight. “Sorry, I zoned out.”

He tuts. “While you’re visiting your dad, I’ll go to this meeting with the old man. He wants me to take over one of his businesses, and I kind of want to decline.”

“Then decline,” I say, looking down at my phone, scrolling social media. She hasn’t posted at all – hasn’t been tagged in anything from her friends or the studio, and Giana has completely deleted all of her accounts.

My phone vibrates, and a message pops up.

Mum: Are you sure you want to go?

Me: I feel okay.

Mum: I want to give you your space, but I worry. All of your drawings are ripped up on your bed, and you left one of your letters on the kitchen counter too. When were you going to tell me you were moving away to study?

Me: I’ll talk to you later about it.

Mum: Okay, sweetheart. Safe flight. I love you.

I close off the messages and click on Stacey’s social-media account, hovering my thumb over the block button.

Then I turn my screen off.

By the time we get on the business-class flight and reach the States, Base is itching to get out for a night of clubbing. I don’t want to go. I’ve barely spoken, and the last thing I want to do is pretend I’m enjoying myself. But since it’s his birthday, I need to try.

He notices that I’m off and quiet, but instead of asking me what’s wrong and forcing me to give him an answer, he tries to cheer me up with shots and banter.

I eventually tell him that I split with my girlfriend because she cheated with an older guy, dodging saying her name, and his response is that it sucks and I need to get laid.

I definitely don’t.

My phone vibrates while we’re in the hotel, getting ready to go out, and my heart stops when I see her name, even though I should be pissed off and should have blocked her by now. I can hear my blood rushing in my ears, and I hesitate before clicking on it.

Freckles: Luciella said you’re moving out. Where are you going? Please talk to me. I love you.

After reading the last part, I take my first line of coke at a party Base drags me to, and the buzz knocks me on my ass, all thoughts of Stacey temporarily gone.

I take another. And another. Until the hours start blurring together.

Our bender lasts four days – four fucking days of going from party to party, club to club. I don’t think I’ve slept a wink. My nose burns as I take another line a blonde neatly stacks, but I tell her to fuck off when she tries to put another line out, this time on her chest.

Luciella calls me on day four, and I struggle to listen to a word she says. I do lie in bed while Base gets a blowjob from two people, too exhausted and drained to move or even tell my sister to hang up when I drop the phone on my chest and fall asleep.

It’s day five, and I nearly kiss a girl, but it feels wrong. She presses her petite body to mine, but I excuse myself and vomit my guts up in the alleyway of the club.

If I can’t fucking kiss someone knowing how much she messed up, then how can she do that behind my back when we were good – when we promised ourselves to each other forever?

My friend claps my back, and we catch an Uber to the hotel to smoke a joint or two.

Base offers himself up on a plate – offers himself to me to keep my mind occupied while we lie on the bed, both stoned as fuck and trying to realign with reality. For a split second, I actually contemplate going for it.

I fall asleep somehow, with Base’s head on my chest while he tells me that he thinks he’s in love with my sister and only fucks around to keep her off his mind, so I should do the same.

I nearly text back so many times though – I only stop myself by thinking about what she’s doing. Probably with Jason.

On the way to the institution, I eventually block her, and it makes me feel ill.

Dad is glaring at me during visitation, at my bloodshot eyes and messy hair – the number of times I sniff and drop my head in my hands.

I tell him everything about Stacey and Jason. He shakes his head and hugs me, but I don’t feel anything. The numbness is returning, and the mental block falls fully into place.

I sent Stacey the clip of her fucking my brother in an anonymous email a few days ago. An immature move, but I needed her to see how much she fucked up.

When she responded by asking who I was, I blocked her.

Dad tries to calm me down by helping me set up five rules to keep me in check, all to do with Stacey. We write them down, and then he makes me repeat them out loud. Again and again and again. Until my eyes are watering with rage and the paper crumples in my fist.

Rule one:Stay away from your toxic ex-girlfriend.

Rule two:Don’t unblock her number.

Rule three: If you’re both in the same room, don’t fucking look at her – it’s a trap.

Rule four:Under no circumstances will you have any sexual interactions with her.

Rule five:Never forgive Stacey Rhodes.

In all fairness, he disagrees with most of them, but I’m holding to these rules – I’ll never break them. I’ll get them fucking tattooed into my skin if I have to.

“How do you feel now?”

I still love her, so all of this is fucking annoying. “I hate her,” I tell my dad as I sit opposite him at the picnic table. “I honestly hate her.”

“You don’t hate her, son. You’re just mad at her.”

I snap my head up to glare at him. “Did you not fucking hear what I said? She fucked Jason. She’s been fucking him for God knows how long.”

“Language,” he groans. “There must be a reason she’s acting this way. No one changes overnight. What did she say about it?”

“I didn’t want to hear whatever she had to say. She’s nothing but a slut to me.”

Dad slams his hand on the table between us, but I don’t flinch – I think I still have drugs in my system. “Do not speak about any woman that way. Ever.” When I stare at him in silence, he continues speaking. “You need to hear her out, Kade. If you love her, let her explain.”

I lose my patience and flip the table before he can finish his last word.

“That’s pretty fucking funny coming from you, don’t you think? You have the cheek to sit there and tell me how I should deal with my fucked-up relationship when you did nothing but destroy my mother.”

His eye twitches. “That’s enough.”

I shake my head, looking at him in disgust. “You’re a fucking lunatic, a waste of goddamn oxygen, and you’d be better off dead after what you put Mum through.”

I regret the words as soon as I say them, but my entire body is shaking, and I can’t take them back. I want to apologise, to sit down and lower my head – the fucking dickhead of a son who treats everyone like shit.

Dad stands slowly, his eyes red – lined with silver as fury builds on his face. “You’re right. Your mother deserves everything in life that doesn’t involve me.” A tear falls down his cheek. “I had no control of what I was—”

“That’s no goddamn excuse for what you did!”

“Son, plea—”

I walk away from him before he can finish, storming through the artificial park and swiping my card. When I reach reception, the woman on the desk tells me that I’m banned from visitations for three months for vandalising property, and I tell her to go fuck herself.

Mum tries to call, but I ignore it. Four calls go unanswered, and I feel my chest tightening with each step. But I can’t stop. I can’t stop being mad.

My phone dings as I climb into Base’s car, the one his grandfather gave him earlier for accepting the business deal – him being overruled by his family as usual. I slam the door and drop my face into my hands.

“Um, you good?”

Fuck off. Everyone needs to fuck off.

My head shakes, and I sit up, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. “Yeah. Just drive.”

“Kade,” Base says, nudging me. “What’s wrong?”

I snap my head to him, eyes full of fury. “I said fucking drive!”

He blows out a breath and indicates out of the space. “Jesus, fine. Calm the fuck down, man.”

He zooms into the busy road, and my back flattens against the chair as he accelerates. My chest heaves, and I breathe deeply through my nose as my eyes fill up again. I can’t control it – the rage, the need to smash something.

I want to grab his steering wheel and make us crash. I want him to get faster so I can throw myself out of the car. I want to fucking scream.

But I don’t want to die, so the thoughts need to go away.

My therapist said to talk – always talk. Staying silent and in your head just invites the bad thoughts inside, with no one to keep you on the right path.

Base is blasting “Pumped Up Kicks” by 3Teeth, singing along to the gravelly words as he lights a joint then pianos his fingers on the steering wheel. He glares at me when I turn it right down and clear my throat. “The fuck?” he says, inhaling a lungful of smoke.

“I tried to kill myself two weeks ago.”

He frowns at me for a beat and pulls the car over, throwing the smoke out the window. “Say that again.”

“Don’t make this awkward.”

He sucks in a breath and tilts his head at me. “Awkward? You just told me you tried to off yourself, mate. What did you do?”

I shrug as my chin shakes. “Swallowed a bunch of pills.”

“Would it be acceptable for me to kick your ass right now?”

I manage a dry chuckle. “Probably not.”

Base nods. “Do you know why you did it, or did you zone out like you used to?”

“Yeah,” I reply, sighing. “I regretted it as soon as the pills started fucking me up. I sent my location to my mum and woke up surrounded by a team of medics.”

“That’s where you’ve been? Why hasn’t your sister mentioned this?”

I raise a brow at him. I knew he was close to her, but I had no idea they were on a level that she’d confide in him about something like that. My sister pretends he’s a nuisance when she’s around the rest of us. “She doesn’t know.”

I seem to be keeping everything from my sister nowadays.

“How do you feel now?”

I hum and pull a cigarette from the packet between us. “Shit happens. I kind of need to just move the fuck on, right?”

He grins. “Right. Well, you got me. The next time you even consider doing that shit, you fucking call me. And if you ever feel the need to tell me who your ex is, I’ll happily send a few lovely words her way. She really fucked you up, didn’t she?”

I lower my eyes. “You could say that. It was Jason.”

“What was Jason?”

“The guy she fucked.”

“What the fuck? What the fucking fuck? Jason? You want me to deal with him?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Fuck them both. You’re a handsome guy, rich and you have a big cock. You can get whoever you want.” He swoops the cigarette from between my lips and tosses it out the window. “Spark that joint – I threw the other one away to be dramatic.”

My friend is a dick, but he has his own way of being caring. Maybe, if Luciella ever gets her head out of her ass, he’d make a good, loyal replacement for the brother I thought I had.

Base starts the car, and it vibrates around me. We drive to his family’s American estate and wait to be transferred to their private hangar. The entire flight home, Base drinks straight vodka and sleeps, and I scroll through pictures and videos, skimming social media.

My heart begins to race as I click on Tylar’s account and find a sixteen-second clip of her recording Stacey while they’re at a fairground with Tylar’s niece and nephew. My ex is giggling as she chews on some candy floss, holding the little girl’s hand. She presses her palm to the camera when her friend zooms in.

I watch it far too many times.

My eyes burn yet again, so I distract myself by staring out the window at the darkness and chewing a gash into my lip.

The need to talk to her is fucking pissing me off. I spoke to Stacey every single day for a year. I had her. I loved her and thought she loved me, but it was all a lie.

Our relationship was a fucking lie.

“Can you do me a favour?” Base asks as we descend the jet steps onto the tarmac. His family has a car waiting for us, and one of the drivers opens the door with a greeting to Sebastian.

“Sure,” I say.

“Don’t tell Luciella I took all those drugs. She keeps getting at me about doing coke, but she’d lose it if she knew I took ecstasy and acid.”

“So you want me to lie to my sister?”

“Pretty much. In turn, I won’t tell her you did them too.”

Prick. “You do know that you two aren’t together? You can do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Would you want the girl you loved to know how much of a fuck-up you are?”

I stay silent.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Blin, izvini.”

We get into the car and I arch a brow at his Russian.

He switches back to English. “Sorry. Forget I said anything. I’ll have the driver swing by and drop you off at your place.”

“Fine. I won’t tell Luciella. Your dirty secrets are safe with me.”

“Maybe don’t mention all the sex either. I think my dick was sucked dry.”

“Now you’re pushing it.”

He laughs deeply and smiles out the window. “Just living up to life’s expectations for me. I am the family screw-up after all.”

The car moves, and it takes an hour to reach our town. It’s small, but all the houses are huge and spaced apart.

When we pass the studio, an idiotic, impulsive part of me speaks. “Let me off here. I can walk the rest.”

Base looks confused. “You don’t live near here?”

I raise a shoulder. “It’s fine. I could use the breather.”

Base instructs his driver, and they pull in a few streets from the studio. I grab my suitcase and lean down to the window. “You’re not the family screw-up,” I say. “Don’t talk down to yourself.”

He nods – I can see how much he doesn’t believe me. “Shoot me a text once you get in.”

I tap the top of the car. “Right.”

The studio is quiet as I walk by – my hood up, cigarette hanging between my fingers. The wheels of my small suitcase roll loudly along the road, and since there are no cars parked outside, no classes must be on.

It’s ten at night on a Thursday. She always stays late. Maybe she’s in there herself? Or maybe she’s in there getting fucked by my brother?

I sigh and rub a hand down my face, going against the notion to walk in and confront her, demand fucking answers – or beg her to leave him, to take me back.

One foot goes forward, in the direction of the studio, but I stop.

No. She can’t be trusted – neither of them can. They both cheated in relationships. Once a cheat, always a fucking cheat. They’ll fuck each other up eventually.

I turn and walk in the opposite direction.

It starts to rain. Lightning flashes across the sky, and for a few minutes, I stop and stare up. Thunder growls around me, followed by another flash, and I hate myself for admitting this, but I miss her.

I miss Stacey so fucking much.

Almost to the point I’d consider forgiving her. If she promises to stay away from Jason, we could work things out. I don’t feel like I can fucking survive without her.

I turn back towards the studio and take a few steps, but a car pulls up beside me, the window rolling down. “Kade Mitchell?”

Stopping, I frown at the older woman with wine-red hair and sunglasses. “Yeah?”

“My name is Bernadette Sawyer. I worked on your father’s case many years ago. I believe you’re trying to appeal so he’ll be granted release for visitations, am I right?”

“Not interested.” Fucking reporters and their constant need to post articles on me and my family. I turn and keep walking. “Fuck off.”

The car crawls beside me as she pulls off her unnecessary sunglasses. “I’m not here for a story or to gather information from you. It’s the total opposite. I have files upon files of evidence and witness statements that may grant your father’s full release.”

My feet halt, and I turn to her. “The last thing this world needs is Tobias Mitchell being fully released.”

“We can both agree on that. But I can help with his other appeals. It would be nice for your parents to spend some time together outside the institution, wouldn’t it?”

I stare at her. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just doing my old friend a favour. I have all the files at my home office, if you want to see them?”

“How do I know you aren’t talking shit?”

She grins and pulls out her identification – Head of Police Scotland, Chief Constable Bernadette Sawyer. “I’m also an undercover detective for Scotland Yard. I have a lot of power to help your father, Kade.”

I look around us, then at the white Porsche she’s driving. My eyes lift to the middle-aged woman. “My dad is trying to get transferred to an institution here – could you arrange that?”

“I could certainly try. Come on – get in. I’ll show you everything I have, and we can work together on a game plan.”

I look around again, seeing the studio far in the distance. She could be there – an opportunity for me to demand to know what happened, to know if it’s still happening. I want to fucking know why she felt the need to break my heart.

I gulp and keep my eyes on the studio doors. As if she’s going to appear out of nowhere and cry for me to come to her. But then again, Jason might be with her.

Fuck it.

Bernadette opens the trunk for me to toss my suitcase in and smiles at me when I climb into the passenger seat of the car. She’s wearing a tight black dress, driving in heels, and smells of over-the-top perfume. Her dress rides up her thighs while she drives, and she doesn’t even attempt to pull it back down when her underwear is revealed.

I don’t look – I keep my eyes forward, listening to her classical music.

When we pull up to her estate, I follow her through the manor. It’s all white marble flooring and white walls. A man – tall and skinny – is watching us enter the main entrance. And when we reach the other end of the house, I notice he’s trailing behind us with a dirty look.

She stops and places her hand on my chest. “This is Kade Mitchell, Archie. The boy I told you about. I’m going to show him some of the files I have on Tobias.”

His eyes spark, and he looks me up and down in a way that makes me want to ask him to look the fuck away. “You look like your father.”

Everyone says that.

Bernadette’s stilettos click across the floor, her hair swishing side to side. She glances over her shoulder at me as she unlocks her office and grins at me when I walk in. Her husband doesn’t follow us.

Then she locks it.

She flirts with me while discussing the case. I’m certain she’s flirting. Her tone and everything is seductive, and it does absolutely nothing for me. But she does have a lot of stuff on my dad, so I ignore her advances and sit down with each file.

The night after, she has me over again, this time introducing me to her eighteen-year-old daughter Cassie. She blushes when I nod at her, and Bernadette says we “look good together”, but I shake off the comment and ask what the plan is.

For the next three weeks, I spend most of my nights in Bernadette’s office, constructing a strong argument to have my dad transferred here. She has a list of top lawyers for us to use, and says she’ll have a sit down with my mother when we have everything set. For now, it’s to be between us, so I don’t get her hopes up.

“He can’t ever be released,” I tell her. “He’s not fit enough. He needs to be secured and controlled. He’ll revert to his old ways, and I don’t think anyone will be able to keep him from my mother.”

“Agreed,” she replies, sitting down at the table beside me. “I think we should celebrate how much we’ve managed to get through. Would you like a drink?”

Three hours later, I’m smashed, unable to read any of the documents properly. Bernadette is sitting on the table, leaning back on her hand as she drinks her whisky. “Do you have anyone special in your life?”

I look up from the papers. “What?”

“A girlfriend. Someone you turn to for… pleasure and fun?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t care for that stuff.” And I mean it – I only ever wanted to have sex when I was with Stacey. The idea of fucking someone else makes me uncomfortable.

She smiles. “You really are like your father, aren’t you?”

And then she leans down, her alcohol-ridden breath hitting my face as she tries to kiss me.

I pull back. “What are you doing?”

Sighing, she stands from the table and walks to her desk. “Forgive me. I… I must’ve read the signals wrong.” She pours two more drinks then walks over and hands me one. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” I reply, taking a gulp of the strong spirit. “Because I’m not interested. I’m only here for my dad.”

“Oh, I know.”

A few minutes go by, and sweat builds on my skin. I need to take my hoodie off. The place is like a fucking furnace. My vision blurs, and I can’t stop closing my eyes. Then the glass slips from my hand, and my head hits a hard surface as I pass out.

My body jerks as I try to sit up in bed. Bernadette’s beside me – naked – and I have a condom stuck to my dick, my hand chained to the bedframe. Archie, her husband, is sitting in the corner of the room, smiling at me as he sparks a lighter.

My head is fuzzy, and I want to stand up, to speak, to fucking yell at them, but I’m too weak, and I fall back into the bed.

They don’t let me leave.

They touch me. He makes me touch her.

They inject me with drugs to keep me weak – they text my parents, pretending to be me, telling them that I’m fine and not to worry. I’m working on a project.

I have my first panic attack in ages, but she doesn’t let me out of the house, even when I try to run. They catch me and beat me until I’m unconscious then drag me back into the building.

They won’t stop touching me.

I’m sore. I’m confused. Why did I kill that guy?

My hands are fucking shaking. I can still see the blood.

I can finally go home, but now they hold a murder over my head, so they force me to do things. Nasty fucking things that make me thousands. I try to escape them by moving away, but they find me.

My apartment in Stirling is far enough away that I’ll never run into Stacey, but there’s nowhere I can run to hide from them, no matter how much money I make from the evil pair.

Bernadette shows up and makes me fuck her. He sometimes watches.

They send me to other countries to work with highly skilled teams who train me in weapons and hand-to-hand combat. Months of training that nearly kills me.

My knuckles are permanently scarred.

Stacey doesn’t reach out to me again. I blocked her, but I want to unblock her and beg her to run away with me – I’d run and never look back.

She broke my heart, but I want her back. I miss her. I love her.

I strangle someone until my hands cramp.

A Latvian man begs me to stop before I put a bullet between his eyes. I think I might be done – I might be free, but no matter how much havoc I cause, they always want more from me.

Another death. Another fuck. Another drug.

Another memory of Stacey holding me together.

When I screw up, Dad either gets the punishment – or I do.

Bernadette tells me to fuck her friends, and they pay me. I have to do it or they’ll target my family, but each time I push into someone, I try to think of her.

I always think of her.

She’s the only memory in my head that’s holding me in place. My anchor.

My friends think I’m partying in Stirling and getting my head down with my studies – but instead, I’m slowly dying. I’m trapped in subspace, falling, falling, falling, and I can’t find Stacey’s hand to catch me.

For the next two years, I die a little more each day, until the version of Kade Mitchell I want to be turns into a ghost. My soul is shattered and broken, and I lose all the pieces, unable to glue it back together.

Look at me now, my little princess. Daddy’s gone, and he’s never coming back.