Page 40 of The Fire We Make

It wasn’t until her dad took her sore arm and lifted it in triumph did she snap back to reality.

“Y’all see this? Everybody get a good look at this face,” Byron’s voice boomed across the room to the dozen young boys training alongside Joy.

“This shit right here is what I wanna see. You lay a motherfucka down and you pull no punches. No remorse. No emotions. This is what a Thibodeaux Cartel soldier looks like. A motherfuckin’ demon.”

Joy ignored the pain radiating through her body, basking in her father’s praise.

Joy woke up with a start. Sweat dripped down her forehead and made her clothes stick to her back. Her heart raced as she swung her head from side to side taking in her surroundings until her brain recalled where she was.

You’re okay.

You’re okay.

You’re okay.

She chanted her mantra to herself until her heartbeat slowed. She put her head in her hands taking deep breaths to coax air into her lungs.

She lifted her phone to see the time.

4:37am

Still too early to start getting ready for work but she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Not now.

She navigated to the social media apps on her phone and logged into her burner account. Going to the search bar, she typed in Cleve’s username.

Up and down his page were photos of him living his best life, one hand and all. Women, cars, clubs, money. He was doing it all. The only thing that had been standing between him and living the lavish lifestyle he wanted with the status that came with it was Joy. With her in New York, effectively outcast from the Cartel, she was no longer a threat.

“Captain Hook looking bastard,” Joy muttered in disgust.

She continued going through the digital lives of people from her past. Old friends who were no longer around. Old associates who no longer wanted any connection. Old soldiers whose loyalties never truly lied with her. Everyone who had abandoned her and seemingly moved on without a second thought.

Going to her brother’s page, it was more of the same. The graduation that she’d missed and the wedding she wasn’t even invited to — Byron Junior hadn’t skipped a beat.

That came as no surprise. Joy had always had a tumultuous relationship with her older brother. Much to their father’s chagrin, BJ didn’t have the stomach for Byron’s world that Joy did. He took more after their mother, being sensitive and mild mannered. As they got older, he resented her for being the favorite. Joy looked down on him for being weak.

Now look who’s weak, a voice in her head taunted her.

Joy’s eyes stung, not in sadness but in unplaced anger. Joy’s world had stopped. She had been broken beyond repair meanwhile the people that had benefited from and encouraged her downfall all got to move on with their lives.

It wasn’t fair.

“Ahhhh!” She placed a pillow over her face and screamed out.

For the first time since her first night in New York, she allowed herself to cry until she had exhausted and dehydrated herself. This time of rebuilding was supposed to be helping her get back to normal but all it did was make her feel more broken. She longed to go back to the days when she didn’t feel so alone. When she had family and friends and a purpose. Even Mel, though she loved her, kept trying to “fix” Joy.

It was clear her time in the mental institute hadn’t fixed her. She was beginning to think she was beyond fixing. She would likely walk around with this mental illness for the rest of her life but what did that mean? Would she remain exiled forever? Would Mel give up on her? Would she ever have her life back?

Joy shook her head, not even wanting to entertain those thoughts.

If she couldn’t be normal, she’d need to learn to fake it better. She’d hide her anger and keep her violence on a leash, keeping all of the dangerous, ugly parts of her that made her unlovable and disposable locked up until they withered away — or she did.

Her father had not only exiled her from her home but his rejection doomed her to a life of isolation. Joy had been proud of the name he called her. Lil Demon became her nickname and she wore it like a badge of honor because he had given it to her. He’d said it with pride, like a compliment so she accepted.

Little did she know the same qualities, and that same name would be his basis for ripping her from everything she knew.

Her 5:30 alarm snapped her out of her thoughts and she absentmindedly began getting ready for work.

In the shower, she let the spray run over her, letting the water put out the last remnants of the fire raging within her.