Page 48 of Unhinged
We all stand around the bed, watching as Brydgett’s shallow breaths rise and fall beneath the thin blanket. Gears and Arrow stand close, their bodies tense, but neither of them says a word.
Suddenly, the door creaks open, and little Judge walks in, looking up at us with wide eyes. He doesn’t say anything at first, but when he sees his mom lying there, his face crumples, and he climbs up onto the bed without a word. He curls up beside her, pressing his small body close to hers.
“I love you, Mom,” he whispers, his voice breaking as he snuggles against her side.
The room goes quiet for a long moment, the weight of the silence settling over us all. There’s nothing more we can do now except wait. Hope. And pray that she pulls through.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ARROW
Hours pass in a blur. Brydgett’s room smells like blood and antiseptic. It clings to the air, making each breath feel harder to take. Her once vibrant face is now pale, and the stillness of her body cuts through me like a knife.
Gears stands beside me; his usual composure shattered. His fists are clenched at his sides, but the tremor in his hands betrays the panic he's trying to suppress. He won’t look at her directly—it’s too much for him—but I know he’s fighting just as hard as I am to hold it together. The guilt gnaws at him, at all of us. What we’ve done to her. What we’ve put her through.
Acid’s near the door, his eyes locked on Brydgett as though he’s trying to will her back to life. Hours seem to pass, silence only broken by the incessant clicking of Acid’s lighter. A nervous habit of his that he can’t break. The raw emotion I see in him—guilt, frustration, fear—is a heavy force in the room. He wants to fix this, wants to make it right, but it’s like he’s suffocating in the reality of what we’ve done. We all are.
I keep my gaze on her, my heart hammering in my chest. The steady rhythm of my pulse feels like a pounding war drum now, filling my ears, making my throat tighten. It’s hard to think, hard to focus. My thoughts spin, each one tangled with the mess we’ve made. I just keep telling myself to breathe, to stay calm. Don’t lose it. Not here. Not in front of Judge. She needs us. We can’t fall apart.
But the reality of the situation presses down on me, sharp and undeniable. She’s a serial killer, a woman we kidnapped, tortured in our basement. We didn’t know what would happen when we took her and the kid. When we stripped her of her power, her freedom. Would we have hurt her more if Mom and Dillon hadn’t helped her escape?
The silence in the room is suffocating, broken only by the quiet rustle of sheets and the faint hum of the IV machine. It’s maddening, waiting for her to wake up. Waiting for any sign that she’s pulling through. But what happens if she does? What happens when she wakes up and remembers everything? What happens when she faces us again?
“She’ll wake up,” Acid mutters, more to himself than to anyone else. I can hear the cracks in his words, the fragility of his belief. He wants to believe, but even he’s not sure. We’ve done too much, crossed too many lines. She might never forgive us for what we’ve done.
“Come on, Mom,” Judge whispers. It’s a raw plea, his small voice cracking with the weight of everything he can’t say. He needs her. More than he knows how to express. He needs her to wake up. But in the silence of the room, I can see the doubt in his eyes, the confusion that even at his age, he can’t hide. She’s not just the woman he’s been dragged into this messed-up world with. She’s his mother. But she’s also a killer. A monster.
Her body remains unmoving, and the air in the room feels heavier with each passing second. We’re waiting for somethingwe can’t control, hoping for a chance at redemption we may never deserve. And maybe, just maybe, if she wakes up, we’ll find a way to make it right. Or will it all fall apart.
I glance at the door, my mind racing through all the things we could’ve done differently. But there’s no time for that now. She’s here, and we have to deal with the mess we made. We don’t get to choose the consequences.
“We won’t let anyone get away with this,” I say, every word laced with the promise of retribution.
Gears clenches his jaw, nodding. His anger’s boiling over, but he doesn’t let it consume him. Not yet. “I got the plate from the SUV. I’m calling one of the brothers at the MC. They’ll run it, find out who owns the thing and where we can find them. Once we know, we take care of the rest.”
I know Gears is itching for action, but we don’t have all the answers yet. Not until Brydgett wakes up.
Ike enters the room then, his presence cutting through the tension like a cold wind. He checks Brydgett over with a practiced eye, his hands moving methodically, his face set.
He looks at the three of us and then at Judge, who’s still tucked up beside her. “We need to talk,” Ike says, his tone sharp. “Judge, you too, son. I need to know what happened out there.”
Judge looks at Ike with a spark of defiance in his eyes. “I’m not leaving Mom,” he says, firm and unshaken.
“She ain’t doing nothing but healing while she sleeps, Judge. Now come on, you need to eat something, anyway. Jackie cooked some frozen pizzas.” Ike’s voice softens, but just a little.
Judge glares like a wet cat, furious but exhausted. After a long beat, he relents, rolling off the bed. We all head toward the kitchen, and as we enter, Jackie hands each of us a paper plate with pizza. The smell of melted cheese and tomato sauce is a small comfort in the chaos.
“Alright,” Ike says, looking directly at Judge, who’s sitting at the table, holding his plate like it’s a lifeline. “Tell us what happened from the time you pulled out of the driveway until you called me.”
Judge hesitates for a second, his eyes dropping to his plate, but then he begins. “We were driving. When we got to the stop sign by the town sign, the guy rolled his window down and waved. Mom got upset and started driving real fast. They followed us and rammed our car a few times. Mom went into the ditch and hit something. She got out and told me to stay down. They started shooting at each other. The guy knew Mom’s name... He said he knew she had a kid and asked if he was his.” Judge looks at Ike, his face hardening. “Was that my dad?”
Ike swallows hard before answering. “That’s for your mom to tell you. But you remember this, boy. It takes a lot more to be a dad than just to be called the word. You hear me? So while your mom can answer your question better, I’ll tell you this: that man is not your dad.”
Judge just nods, barely whispering, “Okay.”
“Then what happened?” Ike presses.
Judge continues, the words coming out slowly, cracking with emotion. “Mom got shot. She told me that if that guy got to the car, to run. She made me promise. Run back here, and don’t stop. I told her I knew the way. I was about to get out and start running when I heard more shots, and then you guys were there. How did you find us?”
