Chapter 4

I’m stuck here, once again. In my own damn memories. And they’re pretty fucking scary. They were when they happened, and they still are now. Love it.

In the particular one I’m witnessing now, I’m fully aware it’s not actually happening. I even know the outcome, but it doesn’t stop it from scaring the shit out of me.

Mikey slams into me, pushing my head against the wall and keeping me there. He’s a lot stronger than me, so I can’t get out of this. Oh well, he’ll just scream in my ear for a bit, and then piss off. That’s what he always does.

Except I know that this is the time he actually hurts me, and I had to go to the hospital. I know I’m fine after, but it’s like I can feel the pain all over again as the metal screams into my back.

“Fucking hell, Mikey! What the shit are you doing?” Caleb pulls Mikey off me, and I instantly try and put pressure on the wound. Doesn’t really work though, as I’m already feeling weak with blood loss, and my hands won’t stop shaking. The ivy leaves on my finger won’t stop quivering, and I hate how blurry they look.

I remember it well - of course I do, I mean, I was literally stabbed. Not the first time it happened, and not the last time either, but it stuck with me, because of how no one helped me.

Caleb drags Mikey out, shouting and punching him as he goes. He just fucking goes. And the leaves on my hand are now just a dark smudge in my vision, but then again, everything is either now a light smudge, or a dark smudge. Fucking hell, why won’t someone just help me?

And no one did. I fucking fell unconscious, and Caleb never came back. He was pissed at Mikey for stabbing me, but he never came back to see if I was ok. I woke up in the hospital, and it was just lucky that someone entered the room looking for a lost possession, and saw me bleeding on the floor.

I was fine, but I have a nice scar on my back to remind me of that particular incident. I have a lot more too, from other incidents.

Nice.

Unfortunately, my mind doesn’t just stop after one memory, that’d be way too merciful! So instead, I’m thrust head first into another one.

“You’re so fucking stupid, you dumb little shit!” Caleb screams at the man. He cowers against the wall, covering his ears to try and escape Caleb’s voice. Doesn’t work, never does. Can’t blame him for trying though, Caleb’s got a really loud, unpleasant voice like splintering glass.

Ooh, this is a fun memory. I remember that poor guy, we shared a room for a while. He was nice, and for a while, I had a crush on him. Well, that was before I saw Mikey shoot him. After that, I made sure not to catch feelings for anyone again. It was easy with most of them - they were hardened criminals, but that guy - he was just a normal person, thrust in with that shitty lot because of bad timing.

“You fucked up one too many times, why couldn’t you have been like Dean, huh?! He never fucks up on the job, but you. You, you, you,” Mikey says, wandering around the poor guy. I hate that he’s bringing me into this, but Mikey always does. I’m his favourite, and that’s a pretty widely known fact. I’m Mikey’s, one of the two underbosses’ favourites. That gives me a lot of power.

Being popular with Mikey was good for me - I got a lot of information on the jobs going down, and people didn’t dare mess with me. Mikey would yell at me, sure, but until he stabbed me that time, he never hurt me. Well. He would slam me into walls a lot, and hurt my eardrums by screaming his anger out at me, but it was never anything more than that, until I almost died.

Mikey drags the guy to the floor, spitting in his face. “That was your last chance, you fucking idiot. I warned you last time; I told you you fucked up one too many times, and what did you do? You fucked up again.” Mikey kicks him in the stomach, and I grip my hands tighter as I stand back and watch the guy I like get beaten up.

I don’t like this bit of the memory. Obviously, all of it sucks, but this bit, this bit is the worst. And just like then, all I can do is stand back and watch it all play out.

“Come over here, Dean. I want you to shoot this punk in the head. End his miserable little life.” Mikey grabs him by the hair, pulling his face up next to his own. The poor guy is crying, fear running rife in his eyes. I lean against the wall, a mask of indifference on my expression, whilst inside I’m crying along with him. “I won’t do it, Mikey,” I say, my voice coming out surprisingly confident. “You know I don’t like blood on my hands.”

I feel like I should have done it. I had never killed anyone, it had been one of the strict rules to follow whilst undercover: fit in, but don’t do anything too illegal. But I feel like I should have ended his poor life. Instead, my refusal put him through more pain.

“Fucking hell Dean, you’re such a pussy. Alright then, you can watch as I torture this guy to death instead.”

I feel sick. This is a fucking memory, but it feels as real as the day it happened. Eventually, Mikey shoots him in the head, and his suffering, after hours, is finally ended. Mikey was always a lot more angry with me after that - he didn’t like when I didn’t do as he said, and disobeying an order was number one on his list of things he hated.

Finally, my memories leave me alone, and the images of Mikey, Caleb and that poor, poor guy leave my mind, but the name Dean still feels like poison on my tongue. My undercover name. If I even so much as hear someone say ‘Dean’ it makes me sick.

I hate it.

I hated all of it.