Jailbait

By forSERIOUS

Chapter 1: Between Stone and a Hard Place

Even from beneath the chaos, the screaming, and the crying, I could hear their breathing. Each intake of oxygen divulged any hidden characteristics that these people possessed; their inner most secrets and weaknesses were served to their enemies on a dish so definitely transparent.

My father, a veteran liar, having tread upon Fear's tail, had shrank back at the first sight of retaliation. This beast of a man, a skyscraper among his kind, was rendered useless to his worst nightmares. The rapid pace of his breath, the way his lips trembled when he sucked in, told me that his lies were slowly coming to an end.

My mother, a fragile little thing, too helpless to salvage her own life, and mine, sat on the floor taking in deep shaky breaths. Her desire to live was as short-lived as the scarce bursts of air she exhaled. I could feel myself trembling in her powerless arms, my own breathing restricted to my nostrils, signifying immaturity and damned childish ignorance.

However, what scared me the most was the steady intake and expel of breath coming from the black-cloaked man standing only a metre away from us. He had a pistol pointed to my mother's head, his hands gave nothing away. He had already shot my father in the thigh; our family was sitting in a puddle of his blood, sins, and lies.

"Tell me one last time," requested the dangerously low voice of our captor. "Tell me why you killed my cousin."

"H-he t-t-took the money!" my father struggled out. "The money that I made. I h-had to bring something b-back to the Boss!"

"You didn't have to kill him," came the same even tone.

"He would've done the same-"

"He was my only family," the man rumbled, showing faint signs of anger.

"No," my father shook out weakly. "Guys like us don't need family, right? We can live on our own. We're the top of our game! That's why we're here in the first place!"

My mother and I looked at my father, incredulously. His fibs had taken over, this second personality of his, this overconfident risk-taker, would surely get us all killed. My eyes turned uneasily to my mother, hoping for some guidance to a renewed sense of courage, but she remained the same; vulnerable and without the desire to exist.

"'Guys like us'," the cloaked man repeated tonelessly and fired a shot at my father's right bicep.

His cry of agony was accompanied by our shrill screams and he toppled over onto his side in a helpless fetal position.

"Don't," the tip of the pistol traced the edges of my father's jaw line, "associate me with trash. Don't need family, huh?"

There was ominous undertone in his stoic voice. "So I don't suppose you'd mind if I killed your daughter."

He placed a rough hand under my chin and hauled me to one side. I landed on the concrete surface with a painful thud. The sting and the dread mingled with each other and with that came the tears; salty tears with frantic gasps of air. I had finally reached my limit.

"Mom," I whispered. "Is he going to kill me?"

My mother didn't even so much as cast me a side glance. Her eyes were fixed on the unrelenting grey floor; all its life had been drained, leaving two dull spheres in its sockets.

I felt someone take my head and pressed my right ear into a denim-like material. A calloused hand closed over my left ear and I saw and felt the cold, metallic, ebony body of the pistol.

"There's no need for family, right?" a muffled voice clarified, stonily.

And then there was a deafening bang next to my ear…


Sunlight streamed through the cracks my vertical blinds, the beams of light breaking through my nightmare's darkened barrier. I idly peered out from underneath my covers and saw a neatly folded set of pyjamas next to my head. I yawned and stared up at the ceiling, trying to recall my dream.

"It's almost been seven years," I murmured aloud, trying to sort my thoughts.

There was a soft knock at the door. "Miss Linne? Are you awake? Mr. Stone wanted for you to be up at ten o'clock."

I calmly slid off the king-sized bed and slightly opened the door. "Do you know the reason?"

Ophelia, our home's young, quaint-looking maid, smiled up at me, her five-one stature exuding naivety in the strongest state. "He said very little, Miss Linne."

"I'll be out in a bit," and I politely shut the door behind me, sighing deeply.

I stepped into the master bathroom and pressed my abnormally hot hands against the cool marble counter. I peered at myself through the mirror before me. There was an aging adolescent girl staring back at me with familiar lacklustre spheres that were lodged in a heart-shaped, hazel-tinted, beige face. I traced the edges of my eyes, my nose, and my lips on my unenthusiastic reflection.

My face never gave anything away.

But my deep inhale and exhale of breath betrayed my perfect composure.

A patch of faded green caught my attention and I turned to look at what was stationed on top of the toilet. I hesitantly walked over and picked up the neat roll of hundred dollar bills. There was a note attached to it. It was written in a familiar, yet detested, scrawl that only revealed the writer's untameable impatience.

"'Linne, buy yourself something nice. Stone,'" I read out.

I set down the roll of money on the counter, indifferently, and went about my morning routine of brushing, exfoliating, cleansing, combing, and finally, dressing. I retrieved the money and calmly stepped out of the master bedroom and onto the silver marble tiles.

Stone stood at the top of the curved stairway leading down to the foyer and he sent me an infuriatingly smug smile.

You think you're so hot shit. You're so damn full of yourself.

"Happy birthday!" came a loud cheer from the bottom of the stairs.

I felt a part of my heart twitch, but I pushed it down. I was going to show Stone that he couldn't buy me with money and that I was an actual person with real feelings. I, Linne, am not a tool.

I raised my right arm and heaved the bills at him with all my might. However, instead of the roll colliding with his face, which was my sole goal, one of my fingers caught the elastic band and the neat package came undone. The hundred dollar bills, instead, fluttered past his head and rained down on the assembly below. The flapping of money filled the silence that had soon overtook us.

Stone watched me in his customary deadpan expression, his breathing even, unaffected. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"No one touches the fucking money!" a coarse male voice ordered. "If anyone just so much as bends over, I'll fucking chop off their hands, got that?"

"Don't insult me," I hissed at Stone.

"Hey, Angry Bitch," the previous voice was attached to a figure that appeared next to Stone. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

"This is none of your business," I glared at Trigs, Stone's supposed "left" hand man, and I tried to don that frustratingly casual persona of Stone's.

"You're fucking lucky you belong to Stone because if you were some other crazy bitch I would've already messed you up," Trigs jabbed a threatening finger at me.

"Trigs," Stone, out of nowhere, had a revolver raised lazily to his aide's head.

"Yeah, Stone?" he struggled out, licking his lips.

"Shut the fuck up." Stone's eyes continued to stay fixed on my face that I hoped was not giving anything away. "You're saying I insult you, Linne?"

I bit my lower lip and narrowed my eyes at him further.

"You're saying that I insult you with money, right?" his voice was firm and authoritative.

I didn't reply and clenched my hands next to my body.

Look at his damn composure. It was disgusting. Stone had no feelings. Even him being a human was bullshit. He was a creature, no, a monster, driven by money and politics. He wanted to be at the top of his "business". This pissed-stained business of his. I wasn't going to spend a penny of his damned money. Not one cent…

"Then take off your clothes," he told me.

I blinked at him, suddenly perplexed. "W-what?"

Shit, my voice…

"I wouldn't want for you to be wearing insulting clothing now would I? Or even that bed you were sleeping in, or the food you ate last night, or even this house that shelters you," Stone waved a nonchalant hand at our home. "I would hate to insult you, Miss Linne. So, please, if you may relieve yourself of this insult."

You son-of-a-bitch. I despise every part of you, your existence, and that inhuman composure. Damn it all to Hell…

But I had no intention of losing.

I swiftly pulled off my t-shirt and tossed it defiantly to the floor. I stood in the center of the balcony that overlooked the foyer in my bra and my fingers unsteadily went to the string of my sweats. Unfortunately and fortunately before I would present myself in only my undergarments in front of the crowd that gathered below, Stone had already grabbed my hands and he forcefully pressed me up against the wall.

"How long do you intend to fight me?" there was a trace of mirth his words, but his face remained untouched.

"I hate you," I shot out confidently.

He moved his cheek against mine and before I could stop him, he licked the side of my mouth, hovering his own over mine, as if he was taunting me.

"The next time you try to play the hero," his lips, only mere millimetres away, formed his words slowly, "remember that, even though your mask is perfect, your trembling legs can still give you away."

As if on cue, my knees buckled and I felt myself slide against the wall and down to the ground. He smoothly removed his Ferragamo suit jacket and flung it over my exposed torso. He stood up and, with it aimed at Trigs, pulled the trigger of his revolver.

There was a unison of intake of breath at the bottom of the stairs.

However, there was no gunshot, no death, no blood, nothing. Stone did it again and it clicked harmlessly.

"That's too bad," he casually shrugged. "Eh, Trigs?"

Trigs heaved a sigh of relief and fingered Stone. "Fucking psychopath."

"Get this loaded for me," he tossed his aide his revolver. "And you," he turned to face me.

"Get dressed, we're going out today. Like it or not," Stone sent me that annoying smirk again, "you belong to me."

With my voice wavering, I faced him squarely. "Tell them they can have the money. Tell them it's a gift from me to them."

"What the hell are you doing?" Trigs stared at me in disbelief. "That's almost ten fucking grand! Crazy Angry Bitch!"

Stone regarded me with his usual aloof expression. "If that's what she wants."

"I can't fucking believe this," Trigs turned to the party below. "Crazy Bitch is giving you assholes free money."

Immediately a frenzy broke out in the foyer and there was shouting and the slapping of flesh against the marble tiles. Like piranhas with a slab of meat, these so-called humans were defeated by their primal instincts.

So primitive, so barbaric…so predictable.

I hate people. I hate this life. I hate it all.

I watched as Stone walked down the stairs and, stepping over the greedy bodies of my celebrators, disappear into the other room.

My body shook with rage and I could feel humiliated tears pooling at the edges of my eyes. I clenched my fists and ran into the master bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I threw off the suit jacket and collapsed onto the floor. Touching the corner of my mouth, I allowed the salty drops to finally roll down my cheeks.

"'The quickest way of ending a war is to lose it,'" I recited half-heartedly.

Then this is going to be one Hell of a war.