Page 37 of Trig

“Okay! You’ll need to take some strong antibiotics and continue with the pain pills, but that looks good,” Doc says, admiring his work. “Now, let’s look at that leg. Do you mind if I take these pants off? Although not ideal for you, it lets me examine the whole leg.”

I slowly sit up first, then I push myself into a standing position. I take the wad of cash out of my pocket and place it on the table for Doc. He doesn’t look at it once, but I know he sees it. I undo my pants and push them down to my ankles, shaking them off until they hit the floor. Every movement makes me want to vomit from the pain at this point. The doc notices my facial expression,

“I’ll give you a painkiller shot soon. Just hang in there. Can you move both feet and all toes for me?” Doc says.

He takes a look at the front and back of my leg before touching different areas, and then he gently moves my kneecap. Instantly, I hunch over and vomit on the floor. Not even a warning this time. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and start to apologize, but I’m cut off.

“Looks good. Pulse is great. Skin temperature is a little lower than normal but nothing to worry about. And your limb color seems fine. Nothing broken or fractured or you’d be flat on your back. I don’t have everything here a hospital would have to do an A-to-Z check, but I’d say you’ll be okay. In my experience, the legs never do well with major injuries. They cave like melted chocolate. In your case, just the unhealed wound causing some muscle or nerve damage that was aggravated by whatever happened tonight. The pain starts in the back where you got shot, and works its way up to the front of your kneecap, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, holding my stomach, afraid I’ll vomit again and bust these stitches.

“Does this area hurt?” he says, pushing down into the side of my leg. I shake my head. “Good,” he mutters.

I watch as he pulls a medicine vial and a long syringe out. He fills it up, flicks it a few times and stabs it where he was just touching me.

“Motherfucker!” I yell, as I grip the table.

“Okay! Goodnight and goodbye. This is where our paths split. I expect you all to be out before me and the missus come back from fishing. That’s noon, sharp. Help yourself to the kitchen but that’s where my assistance ends. Also, clean up that puke. Paper towels are next to the stove.”

“Thank you for everything,” I say.

Doc silently grabs the thick wad of cash from the table and walks off to his room. I gather myself and limp my broken ass to the kitchen to get those towels and clean up my mess. Bending down and bending over feels like my insides are about to explode. I miss the adrenaline coursing through my veins, numbing me out. Once done, I hobble toward the couch. I take in Francisco for a moment. Although he is a copy-and-paste version of me, I can also see a little of my brother in him as well, especially in his thicker eyebrow shape and slightly pointy ears. I adjust his blanket to cover his entire body and whisper goodnight to him. I look down at my watch and set an alarm for later this morning to get everyone up and out of here out of respect for Doc. He’s been nothing but generous with us, and I know we have overstayed our welcome and asked them for way too much.

I limp toward the bedroom where Nine and Mya are at and open the door. Both are cuddled up on the small bed, fast asleep. There’s a tight space for me to squeeze in next to them, but I need room to heal, and regardless, I don’t want to wake them up so I proceed to grab an odd-shaped pillow and crocheted blanket from the corner of the room and take to the floor. My overstimulated brain battles my body over sleep, so instead, I lay there staring into the darkness, waiting for them to agree so I can finally rest.

With my brain still spinning like a hamster on a wheel, I imagine tomorrow. When the sunlight hits the room soon, and the birds chirp and our eyes first open, I know one thing. It will be the first day of the rest of our lives without my past following me. We did it. We set Hunter’s ghost free. I smile in the dark, knowing his soul can rest. But then it hits me…in releasing his ghost, after everything, what secrets will we have to bury? How many ghosts will we have to lock up? The answer…too many to fucking count.

Chapter 7. Big Bad Wolf

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After returning home, we had a lot to unpack, mentally and physically. Nine and I fought for those first few weeks. There were things we needed to hash out that were unsettled. Like I said, lots of ghosts to bury, such as the girl I fucked. The guy she lied about. The loss of our baby. The idea that she’ll never be able to carry a child again. Her first two murders. The loss of Gabriel, and the addition of Francisco. I was certain at some point she would crack, revert to her old ways and run, but she didn’t. Instead, on rotation, we’d fight, then we’d fuck, and then we’d fight some more. There was still a lot of fire burning in us, despite killing Carmen. Since then, we’ve begun to move past those struggles, but what remains is this constant push and pull between us. Luckily, sex is our drug of choice, and the verbal tug of war, fucking turns us on.

“Say it,” she demands, gritting her teeth.

“I want you,” I whisper in her ear, while my hand snakes its way up her outer thigh.

“I don’t believe you. Say it again!” she demands again, as she roughly brushes my hand off.

I lick my lips, and cock my head to the side. It’s five in the morning and the kids are dead asleep. Let the games begin. I replant my hand more aggressively on her thigh this time and then I pull her into me with force.

“I said…I want you,” I repeat, assertively.

“I’m hearing the words, but I still don’t know if I believe them,” she whispers into my ear. “And, if I’m being really honest, they sound weak.” She squints at me.

I nod, fully awake and ready to play now. With one hand, I quickly grasp her throat, and I slowly slide the other between her legs. She gasps, which brings my full attention to her face. Her eyes slightly roll back and her bottom lip falls open.

“What the fuck did you just say?” I reply, as my fingers repeatedly brush against her pussy. My hand tightens on her throat. “I can’t hear you.”

Her temperature rises and the small of her back starts to buck up from the mattress. Her chest begins to rise and fall at a faster pace, and as she stares at me, I notice her eyes darken. I pull my hand out from between her legs and place it up against my nose, inhaling the scent of her on my fingers. The smell alone makes me want to set her free and then hunt her down just to ravage her for my own enjoyment. I pack that specific fantasy away for the moment and proceed with the game. I bring my middle finger up to my mouth, and with one slow suck, I wet it from base to tip while she watches. I hear a soft moan escape her lips as I insert my finger into her. I slowly start to move it in and out until her body tenses and her legs begin to shake.

“Fuck me,” she begs.

“Say it again,” I command.

“Fuck me,” she repeats a little louder.

Her body is now writhing against my hand as the pussy gods open the floodgates and she becomes well-saturated. I pull my finger out and lick her clean off me while she watches.

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