Losers: Part II

Vincent, Jojo, Bo, and Cherry were all snuggled around me on the bed. Now and then I would wake, but Vincent would rub my back for a while and soothe me back to sleep, reassuring me that the others would be back soon.

I didn’t like to wake up and not have them all there. Even with Vincent and all the animals around me, the bed felt too empty; the house did too. As if I’d been listening for them in my sleep, I woke instantly at the sound of their footsteps trudging in the door.

“Are they back?” I murmured, unable to open my eyes yet. I was resting against Vincent’s chest, still heavily weighed down by sleep. Jojo and Bo jumped off the bed, their nails clicking as they walked into the hall to greet the boys.

“They’re back,” Vincent assured me, tracing his fingers along my spine. His capable hands rubbed the knots out of my shoulders, easing away my tension. “Don’t worry, baby. They’ll be up here soon.”

Hearing them all come into the attic made me finally open my eyes. The room was dark, save for the strand of multicolored Christmas lights around Vincent’s bed. The gentle glow illuminated them as they climbed on the bed, discarding shoes and jackets on the floor.

“What happened?” I whispered, tracing my fingers over Lucas’s face as he lay down by Vincent’s side.

“They didn’t hurt us, sweetheart,” he said, leaning over to kiss my cheek.

“Everything is okay, Jess,” Jason said, climbing under the covers and spooning me. “We’re all here.”

It was a struggle to keep my eyes open as I reached for Manson’s hand, holding it tight as he climbed into bed behind Lucas. His hands felt so cold, his hair was disheveled. “Where did you go?”

“We had to send a message, angel,” he said, drawing my hand close and kissing my fingers. “I’m sorry we woke you.”

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” I hated not knowing what had happened, but my eyes felt so heavy. Sleep was dragging me back into its clutches.

“We’re not hurt,” Manson said, his voice floating in the darkness as I closed my eyes again. “Don’t worry, Jess. We’ll be right here with you. Go back to sleep.”

Within seconds, I was out like a light.

Hours later, my eyes opened again. The men were all asleep around me, Haribo and Cherry were curled at our feet. As much as I loathed leaving the bed’s warmth, I had to pee. Disentangling myself from their arms, I hurried down from the attic and into the bathroom.

My ankle was still swollen and mottled with ugly bruises, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as it had earlier. That pill Vincent had given me had done the trick; my muscles still felt like jelly.

Jojo was whining and scratching at the front door when I shuffled out of the bathroom. With a sigh, I limped downstairs to let her outside. She sprinted into the trees to do her business, and I leaned tiredly against the doorframe, my eyes drooping closed.

Jerking myself awake when my head sagged too low, I wandered out onto the porch and called, “Jojo! Come on, girl!”

There was rustling deep in the trees. God, what was she doing back there? Why did she want to explore during the night? Groaning, I made my way off the porch and to the side of the house.

“Jo! Come here!” I was struggling to make my voice carry without yelling, but I didn’t want to wake up the guys by calling for the dog. Snapping my fingers, I tried to get her attention however I could. “Jojo! Want a treat, girl? Come on!”

It didn’t work. Bracing myself to go search for her with another heavy sigh, I frowned at the smell that rushed in my nose. Smokey and sharp, like menthol…

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my face from behind, covering my mouth and jerking me backward. A thick arm wrapped around me and pinned my hands to my sides, almost squeezing the air out of my lungs. Unable to scream, I kicked and flailed to break free, but it was to no avail.

“Fucking hell, stop struggling!”

I knew that voice. Holy shit, that was —

Alex’s obnoxious cologne wafted around me as he dragged me toward the front of the house. He cursed in pain as I kicked his shins, lamenting that I hadn’t put shoes on before I came out here. I wanted to kick him hard enough to break his bones. If there was any pain from kicking him with my injured leg, I didn’t feel it. Adrenaline had flooded me.

As we reached the front of the house — I’d made it so damn difficult for him he was panting — I spotted someone else on the porch. The sight of him made me stop struggling, frozen in shock.

Reagan glared at me as he stood in front of the open door. He stubbed out his cigarette on the porch railing and left the filter there, leaking a thin trail of smoke.

“What do I do with her?” Alex said. His voice sounded strange, as if he couldn’t breathe through his nose. Hopefully, the boys had broken it.

“Whatever you want,” Reagan said. “It don’t matter.”

He lit up another cigarette before he walked inside, closing the door quietly behind him. There was a strange sort of finality to it, an overwhelming sense of dread. Spurred back to action, I fought again like my life depended on it.

It probably did. I had no idea what Alex planned to do, and frankly, he didn’t seem to know either. At the moment, all he could do was try to keep me from slipping away from him.

“Damn it! You fucking bitch!” He shoved me to the ground when I bit his hand, chomping my teeth down as hard as I could. The look he gave me was murderous as I screamed, and he grabbed me again before I could scramble up from the ground. “Stop fucking struggling, before I —”

He stiffened. Jojo had trotted out of the trees. She was staring at us, her tail held in a stiff straight line. She cocked her head to the side, looking at me with her big brown eyes.

Then her entire body language changed. She barked, charging forward, a gray blur as she streaked across the yard. Alex tried to run for it but didn’t get far. Jojo leapt at him, her jaws latching onto his arm. She snarled, whipping her head from side to side as she clamped down and refused to let go.

It gave me my chance to get away.

Despite the sharp pain, I sprinted into the house. The door slammed against the wall as I threw it open and stumbled into the kitchen, gasping when my bare feet touched something cold and wet pooling on the floor. Reagan stood there, pouring something over the floor, splashing it onto the walls. Then the sharp scent hit my nose.

Gasoline.

“Reagan, stop!” The old man lifted his head. His expression was eerily blank, cold with passionless cruelty.

“Don’t do this,” I said. My voice was raised, but I didn’t know what the hell to do. The attic door was closed, but surely one of the boys had to hear me.

If Reagan turned on the stove, or flicked down a single match…

If this place went up in flames with them still in the attic…

There was no way out.

Putting up my hands, I tried to sound calm. Reasonable. As if there was any hope of reasoning with a man like this. “Don’t…he’s your son, Reagan…”

He scoffed. “It’s too bad you had to get yourself involved. Such a damn tragedy. I doubt anyone will want this place after what’s about to happen. Five people dead in one fire.” He shook his head, as if the idea was so terrible, even as he advanced toward me. “The boys got lucky; they won’t even know what happened. But you…you’re going to be a damn problem, aren’t you?”

He lunged at me, and he was far stronger than he appeared. The acrid smell of gasoline burned in my nose as we fell hard to the floor, his fingers squeezing around my throat. I tried to fight, pressing my hands into his face and raking my nails over him. He was so heavy, and when he struck the side of my head, I saw stars.

Part of my brain, the part that seemed to watch all this happen from above, realized I was about to die. Not only was his hand strangling my breathing, but he was squeezing the sides of my neck, cutting off blood flow to my brain and…

He wasn’t stopping. He didn’t care. My struggles were growing weaker and he was too heavy, too strong. My ears were ringing, faintly, a far-away tone in a vast expanse of growing darkness.

There was a sound like something being struck. In my oxygen-deprived darkness, it made me think of a sack of meat being thrown against a brick wall.

Then air was rushing in my lungs again. Reagan’s hands were ripped away and there was yelling…so much yelling. My vision swam. I was so dizzy I thought I might be sick as I gasped for air, rolling onto my stomach and gagging. My hair dripped with gasoline; the harsh taste was in my mouth, all over my skin.

Suddenly, I was held, cradled, strong arms pulling me close.

“Breathe, Jess! Come on, baby, just breathe.” Vincent’s voice sounded like a dozen echos all sounding at once. My head lolled to the side, my vision blurry. My sopping hair was pushed out of my face, and I could hear Vincent’s heart pounding as I rested against him.

Blinking repeatedly, I tried to focus despite the chaos around me. The frantic scrambling, pounding, and yelling was an endless storm. Although blurry, I could see Manson on the ground, wedged into a corner against the kitchen cabinets. He had his arm locked around Reagan’s throat in a chokehold as Jason held down his legs. The man’s lips were swollen and blue, his eyes rolled back.

“Yes, we need a fucking ambulance! I don’t…Jesus fucking Christ, ma’am, the house is drenched in gasoline. How the fuck am I supposed to calm down?”

Lucas…poor Lucas…how had he gotten stuck being the one to call 911?

All the sounds kept fading in and out, like someone cranking a radio dial back and forth.

“Hey, baby, come on, open your eyes. Stay awake, okay? Keep breathing, deep breaths.”

Vincent’s voice sounded so nice, I wanted him to keep talking. The smell of gasoline was strong, it was inescapable. I needed more air. My gasps were too quick, they weren’t enough…