Broken

• Chapter 143 •

- CLEMENTINE -

"After it had all happened... I called up Hassan, I was scared. I didn't know what to do. He and his other men helped clean up the evidence, but I owed them ever since. Raymond fled. They pinned the murders on him, even though he had only killed one of them. Aiyana passed soon after... I got into an even shittier hole. Everything was so... Dark. Toxic. I dealt to keep my siblings fed, but I had no remorse. After that, it was like a switch flipped in me," his eyes are glazed over.

My heart hammers against my chest. Holy. Fuckballs.

He shuts his eyes tightly and swallows slowly, letting out a shaky breath before removing his wristband. I frown when I see several scars on his wrists. My stomach churns.

He shakes his head, "I... Saw my mother doing it before she died. She used to do it every night after that incident, it seemed to make her pain go away... Or at least that's what she told me. When she passed, I tried it. It took my mind off my mother, but only momentarily. After a while, I realized nothing was changing, the pain I felt for my mother's loss was still there. Only buried by the pain inflicted on myself, so I stopped. Only did it a few times."

"I uhm... Wanted to give up, last year. The dealing, everything. I was over it. I wanted to get clean, take care of the twins. Hassan's boss wouldn't have it, mind you I had never met him. He was in jail, and he controlled this entire gang. Anyway, after a lot of debts were paid back, they set me up with one last job. Turned to shit, though. Guy turned out to be an undercover police officer."

He shakes his head, "Got locked up. I should still be in jail, but my sentence wasn't too harsh because I was a minor. My father got them to drop the charges, by a lot... He has connections and shit," he mumbles and rolls his eyes. "Was in there for two months and six days. Met the boss..."

My blood runs cold, I'm going to be sick.

"I... Made a deal with the guy. He sent one of his people to take care of my siblings while I was in there, but I owed him in return." My eyebrows furrow in confusion, he got back into drugs? He shakes his head. "Not dealing... I was assigned to find someone for him," he eyes me nervously and clears his throat, "But that's over now."

He takes a deep breath, "I swear it's over. Completely. I don't work for him, I don't deal drugs or do anything shady anymore."

I release a shaky breath and shut my eyes, holding a hand to my mouth. I don't know if I want to know the answer to my next question.

"Your tattoo? The tally chart? What is it..?"

He looks down at his tattoo, then slowly faces up to meet my eyes. Guilt, sorrow, and pain fill his eyes. This is going to be bad...

"What are they for, Ashton?" my eyes glaze over and my voice cracks.

His expression is pained, a look of regret plays on his face before he shuts his eyes slowly and faces down, "Number of people I've killed."

My face falls, the color drains from my body. He winces, "I—I know how bad it sounds—I know I'm a horrible person, but it wasn't a sadistic formula. It wasn't some competition. Not my choice or option, either. It was kind of a mandatory thing in jail if I wanted to make it through the night at least. Four, for the men at the house," he points to four of the tallies. I bore my eyes into his, "And the fifth one?"

"Raymond."

My eyebrows knit together. He lets out a shaky breath, "In jail... He was there, got locked up for the rape of over twenty women and murders of seven, not counting his men. He kept provoking me, taunting me... One night I lost it. Killed him..."