Page 18 of Pike’s Redemption

“No pressure.”

Instead of speaking, I moved her small hand to my cock. “Oh,” she said, her eyes rounded and her lips tipped up in a small smile. She snuggled closer, her leg hitching up onto my hip. “You like that idea?”

“Oh yeah, I like that idea a lot.”

?

“I need you to trust me, Eli. I’ll be alright.” His face was pinched in terror as he watched Kent push me towards the pond and the icy waters.

I woke up gasping for air, my chest tight, my legs thrashing against the sheets. Memories of pond water swirled as I tried to return to the land of the living.

Trying to ground myself, I centered my thoughts around the interlude on the patio. Natasha laying against the lounger as I spread those pretty thighs and licking her until she screamed. Everything about her was soft, from her dark hair that feathered against the cushions to the breathy sighs she gave as she came.

Collapsing on the pillows, my hand wandered to my cock, pumping it hard, stroking myself to thoughts of her pretty face thrown back in abandon, biting those plump lips as she reached for her orgasm. It took me only moments until my balls tightened, and that tingle hit my spine; shuddering, I blew my load to the memory of her, thankful that it was her face I saw.

As I showered, I tried not to overthink things. I’m fucked up. I’m tainted. I’m a failure. These were common negative thoughts for me. The psych at the prison used to tell us in group that negative thoughts were like weeds in a garden. They’d spread, and soon enough, all you had was weeds. You needed to pull that shit out by the roots. The problem was — sometimes all I had was weeds. Those negative thoughts popped up even when I was most diligent. It was like playing whack-a-mole.

Leaning against the tile, I breathed as deeply as possible until I managed to pull myself together. There was shit that needed doing. Last night, I talked to Cross about the warehouse fire again before he left, but he said they’d been unable to find anything besides a pile of rags in a wastebasket. It was a little too convenient for my liking. I was supposed to meet Maddox at the diner. He wanted a little ‘me’ time, apparently — needy fucker.

?

The Duck was hopping by the time I got there. Breakfast was one of its busiest times since it was one of the best places to eat in Haverboro. The servers moved among the tables with coffee pots and trays laden with plates stacked with eggs, pancakes, and hash. The smells that hit as I opened the door made me drool as I approached the table Maddox had secured in the corner.

“What’s up?” Maddox asked as he looked at me critically with that intense stare that already had me squirming. He was my oldest friend in the world. Well, he was mine. I’m not sure if he thought of me as his anymore. He still thought I’d burned him when we were teenagers — left him hanging out to dry while he got hooked and sent to juvie. What had really happened was that I’d finally caught up to Kent. Going back there had fucked with my head. I’d strung him up like one of those sides of beef in a meat locker and almost killed him. Then, I got so drunk I passed out in my hotel room. So, I let Maddox down. That mistake had sent Maddox down a path he probably wouldn’t have followed. He ended up in the military for years. We never talked about it. Shame had been bitter all these years. He’d never asked, and I’d never explained. Our pasts hadn’t precisely been a topic of conversation, but I wasn’t so sure mine would stay buried. “Got you coffee.” He nodded to the cup that still had steam billowing.

“Thanks.” Taking a grateful sip, I leaned back in the booth. We liked this spot in the restaurant because it was off in a little nook that kept our conversations private. “It’s been rough, to be honest,” I admitted suddenly, almost choked up. All these ghosts from the past shoved back into my face.

“I didn’t think the first one was a coincidence, but the second one. Fuck, man. These were both placements you had?” Maddox asked. I knew Maddox got it; he’d been in the system, too, so it wasn’t as if he didn’t understand some of what I’d been through. We had never really talked too much about what foster care was like. I understood fundamentally that not everyone had the experience I had. There were kids put in the system who did all right. Some ended up in caring homes. I had wanted that for my brother and I. We both paused for a minute while the server came to take our order. I had to admit I was starving.

“Yeah, both were abusive.” I fiddled with my silverware. “We don’t normally talk about this shit. You and me, but I think there isn’t any way around it.” I felt uncomfortable, my heart beating fast, my skin too tight. Forcing myself to meet Maddox’s gaze, I reminded myself that he was my friend, someone in a similar situation.

“Whatever it is. I’m happy to listen, Pike.”

“I had a brother,” I managed to choke out. His eyes widened, but to his credit, he didn’t interrupt. “He was four years younger than me. We went into the system because our parents were in a wreck. Our first — home.” I dripped the word with as much venom as possible. “Lonnie Kent was supposed to be a good one,” I started bitterly. “The worker told me that my brother and I would be safe. I was so scared, but she told me he was nice. It couldn’t have been further from the truth. I never did figure out if he was bribing people to let him have kids there or what. We ended up there twice. The second time, Eli supposedly drowned in his pond.” I realized I had shredded the napkin and moved the pile to the side of the table. “The other murder victims. Porter and Hubbard were in between Kent’s placements.”

“Were they all abusive?” Maddox asked flatly.

I nodded. “There were a couple of others, too, but they didn’t keep us.” I saw that resonated with him the concept of not being kept — not being good enough. Those who didn’t bother keeping you because you were too much trouble. “Kent wrecked us both. Eli was a different kid. Troubled. He’d take the eyes out of things because Kent made him watch, or he’d be punished. Then I’d be punished.” Maddox was silent, waiting for me to finish, but his jaw clenched tight as the implication hit him like bullets. “I’d find him in corners destroying shit. Dolls, pictures, magazines. He couldn’t sleep unless the eyes were gone.” A part of me didn’t want to put the next part out into the world. “I’m not sure if he grew up what kind of man he’d be.” Sometimes, I thought of that little boy, compelled to remove others’ eyes so they didn’t have to look. It broke my heart then, and now it broke all over again.

“Fucking Christ,” Maddox ground out. “Sounds like shit was bad.”

“Yeah,” I said soberly. “It was good.” I swallowed. Now that I was confessing, I needed to get it all out—all the stories. I’d put off the conversation with him much longer than I should have. We should have talked about this a long time ago. Even the teenager in me recognized that he would have understood, but I was ashamed then, and even now, there was that part of me that dripped with it. “Maddox, I need you to ask me where I was that night I didn’t show up.”

“Pike, it doesn’t matter to me anymore.” He knew instantly what I was talking about, but I’d come this far. It was important that I talk to him now that all the secrets were coming out.

“It matters to me.” Raising my eyes to him, I repeated, “It matters.” He nodded. “I had gone up for the first time to confront that fucker — Kent. I beat him and then drank until I passed out. I missed our meet and left you hanging. That’s where I was. I’m ashamed I let you down.”

“Brother,” Maddox’s hand came across the table. “I’m here for you. It doesn’t fucking matter. That’s the past, okay? It all turned out the way it was supposed to. Sometimes, our life takes unexpected roads. Back then, was I pissed? Fuck yeah. I thought you abandoned me, and it didn’t feel good, but it led me to enter the service, shaping me into the man I am now. Thank you for telling me.”

I let him clasp my arm for a second in solidarity. The server bustled up, thank God, just in time to bring our plates, and his arm withdrew. I felt better now that I’d opened the door with Maddox and talked to him about what had happened so many years ago. It had been what caused him to get locked up in juvie. He’d been mad at me for so long, and I hadn’t dared to tell him what I had done instead of being there for him.

“So Eli? You think …” Maddox trailed off.

“Maybe? Natasha pulled the coroner’s report, but it didn’t show anything conclusive. I never allowed myself to believe that he was dead.” I forked up some hashbrowns into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I just can’t figure out why he’d be doing this. You know … if it were him.” This was what I struggled with. If it were Eli, was he so fucked in the head that he hated me? I tried my best. It wasn’t enough. I got that. I suppose if he felt the need to punish me like this, then I deserved it.

“Is there anyone else it could be?”

I shook my head, my mind racing through the possibilities. "I don't know. We crossed paths with a lot of messed-up people. But someone this precise, this targeted, it feels personal. They would have to know a lot of this stuff about what happened—all the stuff with Eli, and I don’t talk about that stuff.” That went without saying because Maddox and I were friends when we were younger, and I never even told him that I had a brother. We never spoke about abuse, either. “There were a couple of guys in lockup. Natasha looked into them. One was a guard who had it out for me, but he was killed in a riot. The other,” I trailed off. “Virgil Holder.” That brought back some unpleasant memories just thinking about that asshole. I shook my head and had a few more bites of breakfast, but I had lost my appetite. Everything tasted like cardboard, and I didn’t think it was the diner’s fault. “Holder was there for aggravated assault, but he bragged constantly that he’d gotten away with much worse. He was affiliated with the skinheads. Dude was bad news.”

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