The Gang Girl

Chapter 11- Bleeding Broken

The next couple of days at home are hard. Zakhar, trying to come to terms with the fact that I'm not as innocent as he wishes to believe, spends these days attempting to not be in a room alone with me. While I don't particularly show it, it still hurts, and of course there's also Elijah.

"What's got your brother running from the room whenever you walk in?" He asks, slumping into my desk chair, watching me organise my books.

"We had a little family meeting the other night. Let's just say it changed the way he looks at me." I grimace.

"Want to elaborate on that?"

"Nope." I pope the 'p' at the end, sliding Throne of Glass onto my bookshelf.

This is followed by silence as I continue reuniting books with the rest of their series and then putting the books on the new bookshelves.

Dad had gotten my room redone quick smart. Gone are the pinks, purples and brown furniture. In are the whites, blacks and blues. White bed on a raised platform covered in a pale blue bedspread pushed up against the white wall. I had put up in an unorganised organised way, all my photos, now in new white frames, above my bed. A new white desk with little vintage handles has been put up against the wall opposite my blue wall, with bookshelves set up next to it. The blue feature wall acts as a sort of headboard for my bed. The floor-to-ceiling corner windows next to my desk had been cleaned and tinted on the outside, but still let in heaps of the cool, wintery sunlight I love to sit under and read. My black bean bag and floor cushions had been set up in the last available corner, with prime positioning next to the window. I love the way my room is now.

"My brother, he was in one of those gangs that are so popular in Germany, though he was in one of the more infamous gangs. He had a girlfriend, though my parents and I, we never actually met her. I think he was afraid that Mama and Papa wouldn't approve of her. I don't blame him, really."

"And why is that?" I wonder out loud.

"We Riders are rather high up in the German society. You know those rich, snobby people standing waist deep in politics and military?"

I freeze and turn slowly, looking at him in shock, though I rather imagine I look like a deer caught in headlights.

"Rieder? Your last name is Rieder?" I whisper.

He looks at me quizzically and nods his head.

It's just a coincidence. It can't be Haydn's little brother. Couldn't be.

My conscience whimpers, shocked and for once I pray to God that she's right.

"Anyway, my brother was in one of those gangs. He came home one night, covered in blood. I'd stayed up, trying to finish up a massive school assignment and heard him stumbling around downstairs. When I got him upstairs and cleaned up, I left the room to clean downstairs up. When I came back in, he looked me straight in the eye and told me he was getting out. Leaving the gang, the country if he had to." He shakes his head, laughing sourly.

"3 months later, he came home and told me he couldn't leave now. Nothing I said would make him change his mind. I asked why he changed his mind and he just said told me he had to keep her safe. Make sure she made it through initiation. 2 years after that he winds up in the ground. Shot at a party. His girlfriend made it out, but we never met her. We know she was there the night he died though because his dog tag was missing and one of his best mates, Alpha, they called him, told us she had been injured in the shooting. We never know if she turned up at the funeral, though I think she did. Alpha gave us a number to contact someone with, and we assume it was his girl, and we spoke to her, but it was over the phone and we never got her name. I think mum blames her, and I do as well because if she hadn't come along, he would have left the gang and would still be alive."

I turn around to face the bookshelf, hiding the tears beginning to fall down my face.

He needs to know.

I can't tell him. He'll truly hate me for it.

You would want to know.

"What was your brothers' name?" I say, my voice trembling slightly.

"Haydn, Haydn Rieder."

I lift a hand to my mouth, stifling a sob. I lean my head against the wall and try to get myself under control.

"Alexis?" I hear him get out of his chair, but I hold a hand up to stop him in his tracks.

Just tell him. Please. It might help us as well.

How could I though?

Just tell him everything, like you did with Papa and the boys.

I can't. I can't do this.

"Sorry, it's just the story sounds so familiar to my boyfriends, I was hoping you're his brother, so I could return something to you and your family, maybe give them some peace of mind, but that isn't the case. I'm sorry for your loss." I say this, with more tears streaming down my face as I let this lie go.

"Oh, ok. Do you want me to give you some space?" He asks gently.

I nod my head and I hear him walk out of the room and shut the door gently.

It isn't until I hear his footsteps fade and the sound of another door closing do I react.

I dash to my bathroom, shaking, trying to stay under control while I turn on the shower and strip.

When the water is finally warm enough, I climb in and let the sorrow tear through my body, ripping apart all the walls I had built against the memories, the good times, the happy times. Him, Haydn Rieder, my boyfriend.

In the safety of my bathroom, with the water cascading down around me, I sink to the floor, sobs and whimpers shaking my body as the pain threatens to take me over.

I need a release.

Don't you dare.

My conscience warns me.

I need some way to get rid of the pain, and I can't just stroll down the house gym after taking a shower.

You promised him.

I'm so sorry. Forgive me, Haydn.

Don't. Don't please. Don't let this consume you.

My conscience pleads with me as I raise myself up enough to grab my razor blade. I sink back down to the floor of the shower and as I drag the blade over the already scarred skin on my hip, more sobs rip through my body as the blood runs down my side to join the tears and water going down the drain.

Guilt.

Pain.

I deserve this.

I'm a liar.

Liar.

I broke his promise...

I deserve this.