Page 1 of Reckless Rebel

Prologue

ELEVEN YEARS OLD

JACE

You’d think with the smell being constant, I’d get used to it, but I don’t think you can ever get used to the smell of stale piss. My parents are passed out on the sofa of our cramped trailer. Again. It shouldn’t still hurt me, but it does. They don’t care about me, they never have. The only person in this world who cares about me is my big sister Rachel. I feel her presence behind me as she sighs taking in the same scene I am.

But she doesn’t linger like I do, “Come on, let’s go.” She nudges me until I follow her out of the trailer, giving one last look at my creators unconscious on the sofa before I turn my back on them.

“Where are we going?” It’s Sunday, we don’t have school today, and it’s not like we have any money to go anywhere. Hell, I haven’t even eaten since yesterday morning.

As if reading my mind, Rachel pulls a Twinkie out of her backpack and hands it to me. It’s a little crushed and most likely stolen, but anything is better than nothing, and Twinkies are practically a food group for us.

I mutter a thanks and then swallow it whole as she leads us towards the back of our shitty trailer park, slipping through a gap in the fence. We don’t talk much as I follow her into the trees that surround us here. I know she likes to come into the woods to escape, to pretend, even just for an hour, that our life isn’t a fucking shit show. I thank the gods everyday that I have Rachel, because without her I wouldn’t know the meaning of love or family.

I still don’t know where we are going, but I continue to follow her. I’m not sure how long we walk for, but I start to get tired, my steps slowing down as Rachel adjusts hers to match them.

We walk slowly for another ten minutes or so before she finally starts to pick up her pace as the trees start breaking. “Come on,” she squeals in such a light-hearted way, unlike her usual manner. “You are going to love it!”

Rachel rushes off towards the opening and I dart after her, almost crashing into her as she comes to a stop, and when she steps aside I see why.

“See.” She holds her hand out gesturing to the beautiful waterfall before us, and I hear the intake of my own breath. “Sometimes you’ve just got to get a little lost to find what you’re looking for.”

I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, the green of the trees, the rocky formation, the gushing water. All of it creating a scene so tranquil that if I died right here and now, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

“I know things are bad right now,” she whispers, putting her hand in mine, and I break my gaze and bring it to her. “But it won’t always be like this, Jace. I promise, things are going to change.” Her hazel eyes burn into mine as she makes her declaration, and for once, I believe her.

She was right, things did change, but they didn’t get better, they just got much, much worse. The only light I ever knew was taken from me and I don’t think I will ever get it back.

1

Jace

I wrap her hair around my fist as I shove my cock deeper down her throat. Her blond hair. Never black. She moans like a Pornstar and the fakeness almost ruins it for me, almost. I close my eyes and block it out. Concentrating only on how she lets me fuck her mouth like a champ, hitting the back of her throat with every thrust. This is the only time I feel something. When my dick is being sucked, or I’m slamming balls deep inside some nameless blond. Never black. But it isn’t pleasure I feel, it’s guilt. Pure, fucking, unfiltered grief. I’m here, and she’s not. I’m alive, and she’s dead.

That feeling is the only thing that makes me feel alive these days, so I chase the penance anywhere I can get it. I drink too much, smoke too much, fight too much, and fuck too much. No longer a playboy, just a whore of my own making, getting my vice fix anyway I can. They say it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. But what happens when you didn’t love, but still lost? Does it still count? Fuck knows.

I force my cock to the back of her mouth chasing my sweet, sick relief. Her tongue glides along the underside of my shaft, and just like always, Taylor's face flashes to the front of my mind. Her green vacant eyes staring into mine. I can't bear the sight. I grab the nameless girl on either side of her head and start to fuck her face with quick deep thrusts. The tears on her cheeks, the sound of her choking, and the feel of her warm, wet mouth, get me to where I need to be as I spill myself down her throat.

The delicious high of coming burns with the decadent relief of shame. I stumble back as the guilt takes over my whole being once more. What the fuck am I doing? What would Taylor think if she could see me now?

What a pathetic playboy.

I don’t even speak to the girl as I turn and walk away, not even bothering to fasten up my jeans. I just leave her there on her knees, with my come dripping down her chin, and my guilt clouding everything. I ignore her wasted protests as I storm out of the room, I got what I came for. I make my way down the stairs and out of the party. Swiping another bottle of Jack and a stash of weed as I leave. I keep walking, deeper into the night, and don’t stop until I reach the old tracks. This is the only place my mind can know any peace these days. Everywhere else is just so loud.

I drop onto the gravel, taking comfort in the deserted, ruined, abandoned, station. It’s exactly how I feel. Wrecked and alone. I toss back two Oxy, swilling them down with the amber liquid, and then snort a line, before finally rolling a joint. Filling my body with anything that will numb the void inside of me, but just like always, none of it works. How can I feel everything and nothing at the same time? How can I feel her pain, hear her cries, and feel her blood seeping into my skin, but I can’t feel the loss of her? I mean I barely fucking knew her, yet she is now part of me forever.

I don’t know how long I sit here, but my self-induced train wreck plays out in my mind over and over, until I don’t feel anything but regret. I take a deep drag of the joint in my hand as I contemplate how the fuck I got here. Staring up into the abyss of the night sky, wishing that the billion fucking stars up there could rewrite history.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Greg Donovan's sick words and smug smile never leave my mind, even after I planted a bullet into his skull. That didn't help, it didn't make up for what he did to Taylor, or Rachel, and the revenge of it barely crosses my mind. No. Instead it's the look of pure terror in Taylor’s eyes as the blade of his knife slit across her throat. The scream Elle let out as she watched her friend drop down and die. The color of her blood as it sprayed across the floor. All of it is engraved into my brain forever.

The gravel bites into my skin as I lean back on my hands. The wind blasting over me, each gust more bitter than the last, but I barely feel it. I don’t feel anything, not anymore. I hear the crunch of gravel under someone's foot and I know from experience that a member of my family has found me. Not that they could ever lose me, after everything we went through together with the Donovans, we are never far from one another.

“Pretty Boy.” Elle’s voice hits me, and I know I’m in real trouble if my brothers are sending her.

“Queenie,” I respond on instinct, but it doesn’t hold the same substance as it once did. I failed Taylor, but I failed Elle even more. When she needed me most, I did nothing. I just stood by while she was preparing to marry that sick piece of shit. How can she even fucking look at me? I toss back more of the warm Jack and relish in the burn.

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