The Cure To My Pain

"I... I can't do it."

The words leave my mouth in a fragile whisper, brittle and frayed at the edges, and before I can even inhale again, my voice cracks, echoing the helplessness I try so hard to keep buried.

"It's not a request, you bitch. It's a command!" His voice-violent, sharp, and laced with the kind of hatred I've grown used to-slices through the air like a whip, and I flinch as though it's already struck skin.

"I-I don't even kn-know how to d-do it," I stammer, each syllable falling out uneven and laced with fear, my eyes focused on the scuffed floorboards beneath me, too afraid to meet the monster's gaze.

"You don't need to know anything," he snaps with a venomous scoff, the tone in his voice far too casual for someone orchestrating cruelty. "Your job is just to distract them. That's it. So stop acting like a pathetic child and do what you're told."

But this isn't just some job. It's not some harmless errand or small lie. It's something that digs into the core of who I am and shatters every fragile piece I've tried to glue back together. I can't do this. Not this. Anything but this.

"I'll do something else, anything else," I whisper desperately, my voice so low it nearly disappears between us. "Please. Please don't make me do this. I promi-"

The rest of my plea is ripped away the moment his hand connects with my face.

My head snaps to the side as the sting floods my skin, and I don't even have time to recover before a heavy punch lands against my ribs. My breath leaves me in a single sharp exhale, a sob escaping my lips before I crumble to the cold ground, unable to stop the tears from pouring down my cheeks.

"You're not taking this seriously," he says, his voice eerily calm now, like a teacher disciplining a student who forgot their homework. "I guess I have to show you what happens when you don't listen."

I don't see it, but I hear the spark. The sound of a lighter flicking open. A flame. A cigarette.

I know what's coming.

I don't even try to move as he grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking me to my feet like I weigh nothing at all. My legs wobble under me, my entire body screaming to run, but I know better. I've learned to keep still.

The cigarette presses into the skin just below my collarbone. A cruel, searing kiss.

I scream.

"Stop! Please-no! Stop!"

________________________________________

My scream follows me out of the dream like a ghost clinging to my back.

I jolt upright in bed, my chest heaving, lungs pulling in air like I've been drowning. My fingers instinctively fly to my neck, brushing against the rough, uneven skin that still carries the memory-the truth-of what happened.

The burns are there. Faded, but permanent. Like a brand. A reminder.

This is the third nightmare this week, and somehow, it still feels just as fresh and horrifying as the first. I don't even try to fall back asleep.

I reach through the tangled sheets for my phone. The screen lights up: 6:15 a.m.

It's pointless to try and sleep again, so I drag myself out of bed, my body aching in a way that has nothing to do with muscle or bone and everything to do with memories I can't escape.

The hallway is silent as I walk towards the bathroom. Most people in this house-this place we call a root-aren't up this early. That's part of why I like the mornings; there's a rare sense of quiet before reality rushes in.

The shower is freezing, but I welcome it. The cold bites into my skin, shocking me awake, reminding me that I'm still here, that I've made it another night.

After drying off, I pull on a loose grey hoodie and a pair of black leggings, tying my damp hair into a ponytail before heading toward Lina's room-the only place that feels remotely safe in this godforsaken house.

Lina-short for Paulina, though no one calls her that unless they want to get slapped-is the only person who's ever made me feel seen in this place. She's twenty, stands at barely five-foot-two, with wavy brown hair and warm eyes that somehow still hold hope. She's fierce when she needs to be, soft when it matters, and most days I wonder how she survived this life with her heart still intact.

I knock on her door once. Then twice.

No answer.

With a sigh, I twist the doorknob and let myself in. The lock's been broken for months, and no one cares enough to fix it. That's the kind of place this is.

Lina is sprawled across the bed, one leg hanging off the side, hair tangled like a nest. I grin at the sight.

"Linaaaaaa," I draw out her name like a child whining for attention and leap onto her bed with a dramatic bounce.

She groans, flipping onto her back and blinking up at me with the tired rage of someone pulled from the warm clutches of sleep.

"Why do you always wake me up when I'm dreaming about food?" she complains, rubbing her face.

I laugh. "Why are you always dreaming about food?"

"Because food is happiness. Duh," she mumbles, already burying her face in a pillow again.

I roll my eyes. "It's seven. Get up. We have to be at the meeting before eight."

She groans louder this time but eventually drags herself off the bed and stumbles toward the bathroom like it's the hardest task in the world.

The meetings usually happen once a month unless there's an emergency. Today's different. We were told to pack everything. No one explained why.

And in this world, when something changes suddenly and no one gives you answers, it's never a good thing.

I've lived in this root since I was ten. It's a three-story house that feels more like a cage than a home, with a kitchen too small for the thirty mouths it tries to feed and only one bathroom per floor. Gang members are divided by rank and age, scattered across various roots throughout the town. Lina and I share the second floor. We each have our own room, though privacy is an illusion around here.

Lina returns fully dressed, looking far too energetic for someone who's been awake for five minutes.

She eyes me carefully. "You look like crap."

I offer a weak smile and shrug. "Nightmare again."

Her features soften as she crosses the room and wraps her arms around me in a hug so tight it momentarily stills my shaking.

"I wish I could do something for you," she whispers, her voice cracking.

"You already are," I whisper back, pulling away with a small smile. "I'm living with the world's best best friend. That's enough for me."

She rolls her eyes but smiles back, the warmth in her expression undoing a little bit of the cold I carry. "Even if she's a pain in the ass sometimes?"

"Especially then," I reply.

She laughs and shoves me lightly. "Come on. The jeeps will already be waiting."

We grab our bags and head downstairs. Four jeeps are parked outside, engines rumbling. Every vehicle looks the same-black, worn, and intimidating.

"Good morning, girls. You're in the third jeep," Ricky calls out as we pass. He's one of the only people in this world who hasn't made me feel smaller. Ricky is kind. But also lethal. A rare, terrifying balance.

We nod and climb into the third jeep without a word. Twenty minutes of silence and motion later, we reach the warehouse-the place where all the meetings are held. It's an old, abandoned structure tucked into the far edge of town, and despite how many times I've been here, it still makes my stomach twist into knots.

Lina and I slip into a quiet corner as the other gang members from various roots file in, one by one. The air thickens with unease. Something isn't right. I can feel it.

Then everything falls silent.

He walks in.

Declan.

The man who's haunted my nights, the one I fear more than death itself. My breath catches. My hands go clammy. I feel like I might pass out.

"Hey, breathe," Lina whispers, squeezing my hand gently. "I'm right here, okay?"

I nod. I trust her more than anyone.

Declan steps onto the platform, holding a mic. His calm smile only makes the tension worse.

"This meeting is not for our usual monthly check-in," he begins, his voice steady, like he's just announcing the weather. "I've reconnected with an old friend. With his help, we're expanding into a new town. I've selected certain members to relocate and assist with this expansion. If you were told to pack, you'll return to your root, gather your things, and we'll depart today."

His gaze sweeps the crowd, eyes calculating. "A new leader will be assigned here. For those selected, your new assignment begins now."

Lina turns to me, eyes wide. "We're moving to a completely different town?"

I swallow hard. "No. It just means you're stuck with me-wherever we go."