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She looks like she’s about to be sick. “This can’t be true. You have to be lying,” she says as she starts shaking her body off, shuddering with her eyes closed as if she’s remembering all their nights together.
“I’m not lying. You fucked a nasty rapist, a fucking trafficker, you let him touch you, seduce you, kiss you, defile you,” I say, projecting my own regrets and anger about sleeping with Snow on her. “You’re disgusting. You sold me out, this whole organization for some diseased dick.” I walk toward her.
“Stop!” she screams.
“You laughed with someone who made many victims cry, You enabled a fucking trafficking ring by showing your ass. Congratulations. Give yourself a round of a-fucking-pplause,” I tell her as I grab her by the hair, unable to control myself and yank her head back so that she can look in my face. She grabs me by the wrist and twists herself out of my hold, flipping me on the back in the process. I slam into the ground and the reverberation against my back as my head barely bounces off the floor kicks me into high gear. I flip back onto my feet. “Oh!” I say, “It’s game time, bitch.”
“Julissa, I fucked up, I know I did but we don’t have to do this,” she says but I don’t hear her as I pull one of my blades off my waist. I don’t know which one, I can’t think straight.
“I used to fucking trust you,” I say. We’re both walking around each other in circles, watching the other person’s moves. “I mean at this point I should believe I’m this fucking stupid. I keep letting my emotions into things. Turn around trusting some weak-ass bitches. I should’ve trusted my very first instinct on that day I met you. I thought you’d pull some shit then but you saved it until now. It sucks because you were one of my most trusted recruits.” Tears sting my eyes but it doesn’t do anything to soften me. It just pisses me off more.
“Hey, you’re not perfect either,” she says, reaching under her skirt for her gun. “I shouldn’t have ever followed you here. I should’ve stayed out of this or reported your ass to the cops. At first when I joined this, I bought into all the bullshit about protecting people from trafficking but you don’t know what happens to the victims you supposedly “set free,” do you? And do you even care? Do you follow up after to see what happens to them? You promised you’d follow up on the kids back in The Berkshires, have you? You believe your own savior complex, you want the whole “hero” title, you want to convince yourself that you’re this great fucking human, but you’re self-serving. You’re a murderer, you’re abusive, you’re evil and you’re so fucking judgmental like you have the right to pass judgement onto others when you’re not perfect yourself! Who the fuck do you think you are?!” she yells, aiming her gun at me.
All of her words sting like bullets but I’m letting them ricochet off me. “Don’t try to deflect from the fact that you fucked a piece of shit that abuses people and forces them into a life of drugs and prostitution just so he can pay for some fake ass teeth and some stifling cologne. I bet you fucked him in the mansion he bought with his dirty money, huh? In the bed I have no doubt he’s raped many victims. You did that, Selena and instead of doing your fucking job and investigating a fucking imbecile that sold you some bullshit about his family being threatened by the Mafia, you chose to believe his fuckery and further enable him.”
“You’re right. I fucked up and I hate myself for my part in doing that but I’m not deflecting, I’m letting you know that you’re not the only one who regrets being so fucking trusting. You can’t see past your own self-righteousness to see what you’re doing is so fucking wrong and I will live with what I did to help you AND HIM for the rest of my life but that’s what YOU do Julissa. You poison people. You isolate them and feed them your bullshit doctrine so that they can fulfil your fucked up revenge and I do feel bad for you Julissa. What happened to you shouldn’t have but it doesn’t give you the right to treat others the way you do. You’re not the only fucking victim in the world and other victims heal, they work through their shit, they get through it. You chose to take this path.”
I roll my eyes. “Give me the right to do what to which people? People like him? You give a shit about people like him?” I say, walking over to him and grabbing his head, holding my blade at his throat and slicing it without a thought. She turns her head away and I can see how conflicted she is. She doesn’t want to care but she does. It hurts her and I’m fucking glad. “And I’m glad for those victims you talked about, the ones who heal? I’m happy for them. What I’m not happy about is the fact that the ones who traffick them don’t face their consequences. They just get more victims that will have to fucking heal! And not all of us do!”
“You don’t give a shit about the victims, Julissa. Just because you set them free in a moment, it doesn’t mean they stay free forever. You’re so blindsided by your rage that you can’t see how many fucking sting operations are conducted by law enforcement throughout the country. Not all the cops turn their backs on shit like this. Some do care,” she says and I roll my eyes. I find that hard to believe. I think they put on a show. But do they care? I don’t know.
“Just admit it, you’re doing this for you. No one else but yourself. You made a promise to yourself and you’ll see it to the end no matter how many people you poison and take down with you in the process. That’s why your men had to get the fuck out of there before you destroyed them forever,” she says, delivering a solid blow.
And those words are the ones that sting the worst. At the mention of my exes and the realization of where my life has headed since we parted, I’m filled with deep pain I don’t want to feel and I lash out, racing toward her with my knife. She fires and I hear the bullet just in time to dodge it so that it lands in my shoulder. She fires again and I run behind her dead boyfriend, using him as a shield as she fires some more rounds, his body sucking the bullets into it with ease as I move the chair with him around to catch it.
Damn, fucking bitch. I trained her too well. I don’t think she has anymore weapons on her although she could be hiding more underneath that dress, in her fucking pussy for all I know. I’m gonna have to make a run for it because I’ll be damned if this bitch kills me while I sit around here cowering like a fucking wimp. If she kills me while I move toward her, so be it but I fucking survived a fucking five on one shooting match, I can take down this bitch.
In fact, I’m so confident that I can that I might just go ahead and test my odds in the match against a blade vs. a gun. It’s crazy but I want the challenge. Even though I have fucking guns around my waist. I guess deep down a part of me is hoping that she does kill me because if all the things she said about me are true, then I don’t want to be that person, I don’t want to live.
But if I live, she has to die. Because I can’t have someone in my camp I don’t trust and knowing how quick she is to betray this whole fucking operation, I can’t let her walk out of here alive either. Since despite what she thinks, even though the level of fucks I give are decreasing by the day, I do give a fuck about the girls I’ve rescued and the ones I try to. It sucks that she’s right about the victims who are set free during our rescues. I don’t know what happens to them and I don’t allow myself to think about that. So, if I’m really not helping, then I don’t serve a purpose anymore, do I?
I charge forward, adrenaline so high I can’t feel the pain from the bullet in my shoulder, the blood dripping down my arm. I keep my eyes focused on the gun, drowning out the noise of the gun and our breathing until sound doesn’t exist anymore for me in those brief moments. My only sense being used is the one of sight as I stare into the barrel of the gun and watch as the bullet spins through the air, coming in my direction. I dodge it, walking toward her still, my eyes trained on each bullet that exits the weapon. I’m so in tune with the bullet that nothing else exists for me and I’m not even sure if I’m still alive, if I’m still moving or walking toward her until I find myself standing in front of her.
My arm lifts as if of its own accord and I launch my karambit toward her neck. She dodges and this angers me. Stumbling backwards, she tries to point her gun at me but I lunge for her. I’m on top of her grabbing her hand and extending to the side of her, slamming it against the ground to get it out of her hand. I do but she power-kicks me in my chest so hard I think she’s broken my ribs. That hurts like a mother fucker but I get to my feet not as fast as she does but even as I wobble, I drop into my knees like a cheetah drops into their shoulders. On one hand, I have my karambit hanging loose but firm from the bend of my wrist and with the other hand, I mimic the snake’s head. The problem is that she takes on the same position; a downside of training your enemy.
The only thing I have over her at the moment is this blade and I know how to use it. She’s going to have to kill me before I give up but she’s going to have a hard time doing so. I eye the gun off to the side as she eyes my blade. I do my best to dance around her as she dances around me. I move in such a way that I’m steering her further and further away from her gun without her realizing it. Once I’ve isolated her, I use my foot to kick the gun as far behind me as I can, without taking my eyes off her. I watch as she realizes that I’ve been distracting her this whole time just so I could do that. She’s angry but I also see hope fading from her eyes. Great. Her fear is my greatest advantage.
Now, she’s either going to give up or she’s going to come at me. Despite what she does, I’m still going to kill her. I wait to see what she does and she chooses the latter, giving me the opportunity to play off her movements, only needing to focus on staying out of the way of her strikes, relying on one strike of my own by taking her out. In a split second, I find my humanity again, looking into the eyes of the person I once cared so much for, trusted so much and the pain of disappointment in my next action burns me.
Chapter 31
Julissa
Well,somuchforavoiding meth. With strong enough willpower, I can suffer through the withdrawal symptoms but there’s no way I can breathe through this monstrous pain sitting on top of my chest like a truck coupled with the bullet lodged in my shoulder. I pull myself back to my office, barreled over in pain from the aftermath of killing Selena. The pain is more than the physical wounds, I’m still reeling from having to see the life drain from her body even though I know there was no going around it ending that way. She betrayed me and if there’s one thing I can’t stand, coming in a close second to sex trafficking, is betrayal.
I reach into my office desk drawer for a bag of meth pills before collapsing on the floor, laying on my back, yelling in pain. I open the baggie and start chewing on the pills, the bitter taste in my mouth is nothing to me as I swallow the melted powder one at a time. I keep going until the pain is nothing more than a slight tinge. I bring myself to my feet, using the desk to aid me and I walk over to the couch, falling backward in it before reaching for my cell phone to give Jaya a call. It’s nice having the relief of knowing that the mole wasn’t Jaya because I need someone I can trust and I’m just glad my first instincts about her weren’t wrong.
“Jai,” I say as she answers the phone. My voice croaks. “I’ve caught the mole and I’m going to need your help. I’m going to need you to go into storage and get some of Selena’s medical supplies. I need some stitches,” I tell her.
“So it was Selena then, huh?” she asks me.
“Yeah,” I confirm.
“I’ll sneak away from my shift and I’ll be right over,” she says before I disconnect the call.
I want to chew on more meth pills but now is not the time for a bellyache. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths wondering how the fuck everything I’ve worked so hard to build is crumbling around me with such ease.
Within half an hour, Jaya comes busting through the door with a first aid kit in hand. “Fuck,” she says at first sight. “She really fucked you up, huh?” She winces.
