The Runaways

Chapter 13

Caleb

Hailey stopped fighting.

Didn’t matter that I'd pinned her down or started taking her clothes off, she just, let me. She let me do whatever I wanted with her. I untied her hands, wishing she would’ve hit me, wishing she would’ve stopped me so I had an excuse to.

But she didn’t. She didn’t even have enough strength left to sit up straight.

Liam got what he wanted—he made me look like a monster and stole Hailey’s fight without even trying. Seeing her wither away in my arms made me feel like less than nothing—like I was worse than Liam to her.

Right before she passed out, she stared up at me, through me, making sure I knew that whether I went through with what Liam asked me to or not, that she’d never forgive me for it. But God, I wanted her to, even if I didn’t deserve it.

        “Are you waiting for the Pope’s blessing, Caleb? Strip her down!”

Liam had a habit of running his mouth whenever I choked. The son-of-a-bitch knew I couldn’t do this—that I wouldn’t do this, but he pushed me harder anyway. Hailey’s clothes were frozen solid. I could barely cut through her shirt anymore.

My hands got to shaking so bad that I couldn’t even keep his knife straight. Maybe it was God trying to tell me something, but He wasn’t the one standing in the room with me.

        “Liam, I can’t do this.”

        “Don’t you say it, don’t you dare. We had an agreement, Caleb,” he said.

Marcus stepped off the wall to try to set things straight, to try to reason like he always did. It wasn’t gonna work.

        “Leave it, Liam. We’re not here for that,”

      “We’re not. He is. Haven’t you seen how he’s been acting around her all day? Playing hero for the hostage? If he screws the tramp, he’ll be over it and then maybe he’ll take his priorities out of his pants and focus on our family.”

        “She’ll freeze to death before he does anything like that, Liam. Leave him alone,” Marcus said.

Liam stuck his hand into his back pocket, pulled out Rusty’s pistol, cocked it, and pointed the barrel at the center of Marcus's head.

       “What’s this? The preacher’s fallen silent and the congregation’s suddenly all ears. Speak up, Marcus, what is it you were saying about going too far?”

Liam never bluffed about much of anything. He’d shoot the three of us if we tried to reason with him when he already had his mind made up—family or not. Maybe he’d lost too much blood. Maybe he’d lost it all together

        “I’ll do it, just take the gun off Marcus. I’ll do whatever you want, just get that thing out of his face,” I said.

Liam took his eyes off Marcus, who was whiter than I'd ever seen him, and turned his head towards me, eyes sunken—pupils bigger than dimes.

He looked possessed, like the common sense he was born with died at the start of today. Ma would’ve lost it seeing him like this. If she hadn’t died so young, the four of us would’ve sent her to an early grave. We weren’t anyone’s sons anymore.

        “Atta’ boy Caleb. Don’t worry we’ll have lots of fun with the girl, just you and me. Marcus! Cillian! Piss off and go watch for cops outside. Caleb and I are gonna spend some quality bonding time together.”