Page 159 of Beautifully Wounded

I stiffen as Ringo shoves back off the post.

“Where is he?”

“Inthe garage,” Brody gestures his head behind him, and my eyes dart to the door that leads to the underground parking garage.

Ringo starts storming towards the door, JD hurrying to his side, obviously having seen something was up, while Brody and I stare at each other for a beat.

“Who is Morris?” I ask quietly as we start following behind.

“Morris was a prospect like me. He was one of the guys manning the gates when the pigs showed up the other day.”

My brows shoot up, mainly because Brody used the term ‘was’ implying he is no more.

Surely, I misunderstood him.

Ringo’s long strides are hard to keep up with, him and JD hurrying out of sight so fast that I find myself nearly jogging to catch up.

“I don’t know if you want to go in there,” Brody states as we come to the garage entrance but feminine crying meets my ears and I can’t help it. I push past Brody and hurry inside.

The first thing I notice is the smell. It’s pungent and vile, and I immediately gag.

Lifting the neck of the hoodie, I hide my nose inside, moving towards the gathered men and the few Doxies all standing around the back of a car with the trunk open.

“Who found him?” Ringo asks, his gaze shifting from the trunk to Smitty.

“It’s my car.” Casey sobs as Celina tries to comfort her. “I was going to drive to the store, but something smelt off, and I opened…”

That’s the moment I step up behind Casey and Celina and see a body crammed into the trunk, the greying skin and smell telling me that Morris is, in fact, dead. Right there.

“I’m going to be sic—” Casey spins, vomit spraying from her mouth, and all down the front of my hoodie.

I gasp, Celina diverts Casey to the side where she keeps hurling, and I stand wide eyed, covered in puke as I fight not to join in.

“Fuck, Angel.” Ringo takes a step towards me, but I shake my head, moving back, waving my hand dismissively at him.

“No. It’s fine. I’ll just go and clean myself up.” I rush out, needing to get out of there before this becomes a puke party.

Ringo nods, concern clearly etched across his face, and I spin, hurrying for the door where a smug-faced Wendy is leaning against the wall.

“Looks like you got a little something on you.” She snickers, and I shoot her a glare as I pass by.

“Fuck off, Wendy,” I snap and Wendy gasps.

“Rude.” She scoffs, and oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that to her.

Even though I’m covered in puke, I can’t help but inwardly smile at how much more I feel like the old me today. It’s a good feeling, reminding me that once upon a time I was stronger, and that perhaps I’ll be strong again one day soon.

Rushing into Ringo’s room, I grab a new hoodie from his drawer on my way past and duck into the bathroom, trying to figure out how to get the damn thing off without getting it all over my hair.

Draping the clean hoodie over the towel rack, I ease my hands into the hoodie before using them to wiggle the neckline up and over my head without getting the vom on me.

The moment the fabric is free of me, I toss it into the bathtub and sigh.

“Shit,” I whisper to myself, even as I grin.

That could have been worse. I’m grateful it wasn’t.

Sighing, I take a moment to assess my lower half.

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