Page 1 of Pawn

One

Jo

“Damien!”

I’ve been yelling his name so long it comes out raspy and hoarse.

Needy.

My world closes in, the motel room feeling smaller by the second.

iPhone shaking in my hand, it’s hard to steady my finger to tap my sister’s name for the gazillionth time.“C’mon, c’mon …”

Nothing. Like every time before, it doesn’t even ring.

“Fuck!” My fist slams into the sticky wood of the motel dresser harder than I meant. Chewing on my lip, pain vibrates up my skinny arms and through my body as I pace across the floor. My Docs thud against the vomit green carpet with my heartbeat booming in my ears, the dingy motel room a dark blur.

I love you.

Tears blur my vision as my knees hit the floor, landing right beside the polaroid. That polaroid. Looking at it, my dad wears the same black leather jacket on my shoulders. My throat drier than any hangover, it damn near hurts to swallow.

What the fuck does this all mean?

My hands catch my face when my head falls, elbows on my tattered jeans, curls falling around me. Damien’s words replay in my head, the vocals to the instrumental of my sister’s gut-wrenching sniffles.

It’s Marion.

It’s hard to get the strain and desperation in his voice out of my mind enough to focus on what to do next. I’m feeling the same. Distraught and defeated.

Is this all King’s world will ever be? Tears, pain, and death?

It’s hard to breathe thinking about what Damien’s conniving aunt is capable of. If I’ve learned anything in Eden, the Kings mean business.

“Get it together, Jo.” My voice shakes when I say it but I have to.

I’m a mess but I need to figure this shit out before there’s more blood on my hands. On his hands. On our hands. Reaching for the phone again, it’s time to pull up my big girl panties and make a plan. Allie doesn’t answer the first few times I call, not that I expect her to, but I’m not giving up. Trying to steady my fingers, I text her instead.

Jo: SOS! Plz pick up!

She has every reason to be mad at me for outing her and Lea, but I need her. After taking another second, I tap her name again. Please pick up. This is beyond high school drama and antics. My sister’s life is at stake. Damien’s life is at stake.

“What the fuck?” Allie snips when she answers.

“A-Allie!” My voice quivers when I say her name, trying to push the words out. “I n-need help.” The glob in my throat rises and warm tears force from my ducts. It’s hard to get my shit together, already sounding a snotty mess, my chest tight as I press the phone to my ear.

“Woah, Jo?” Her tone softens, voice becoming clearer. It’s quiet in the background making me believe she’s alone. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I-I’m,” I stammer. Great, now that I have her on the phone I can hardly speak. “W-we were—”

“Okay, okay,” she says, her voice soft. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on. I’ll count while you breathe. Ready? My mom does this when she’s stressed.”

So did mine. My body starts to still with another few deep breaths, the sound of her voice making me feel less alone. Pushing the words out, I try again, “Marion has Damien and Willow.”

“Damien’s aunt?” She doesn’t sound as scared as I do. She didn’t hear the stress in his voice. The finality. The defeat. “Why?”

Doing my best to explain, it all comes out in one breath. “Willow went missing and Damien went to get her but he didn’t come back and now they’re in trouble and he called and said ‘it’s Marion’ and said he loves me and I don’t know what the fuck to do!” The silence is deafening when I catch my breath but I know Allie’s taking a moment to digest what I’m saying. “They’re in trouble, Allie.”

“What kind of trouble?”

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