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Chapter 9A breathy sigh tickling against his earlobe caused warning signals to tremor from his toes to the space between his ears. Cool sheets crumbled in his fingertips as his body shuddered, a new heaviness pressing into his side. As his heart threatened to rip through his chest, he listened intently to the familiar breathing tempting the shell of his ear. He could almost feel it trailing down the crook of his neck.
He didn't dare open his eyes - that is until a moist, soft pressure was felt against the close of his parted lips. For a moment, it didn't quite register in his head until his eyes shot open.
A kiss? A dream?
Razer blinked his eyes in disbelief. Morning glow spread its luminosity pouring through their single window. His fingers fell onto the warm, blank imprint in where his sister, Rosetta, was supposed to have been sleeping. Patting the empty space in question, it took another moment for him to curve his brows and wonder why she wasn't there. Usually during the day, they'd gather groceries and share vague details about their buried lives.
With a drawn out groan, Razer sat up from the floor. He strung his fingers through his messy hair, still spotted with dried oil that he never had the chance to wash off. His lip curled at the obvious unpleasant odor rubbing off from his dirt-smitten body. He mused at the thought that that was the reason she had awaken before him.
His eyes squeezed with the bright light blanketing over their home. It was most likely mid-afternoon. He should be at work soon. Slowly and clumsily he staggered his way to their 'kitchen'. Rubbing his knuckles in his eye, he looked around warily.
The vacant seats tucked in the round table and the untouched space of their small home made him worry even more. After the night before, she promised she'd tell him everything. Would she ever go against that? No - she'd never lie to him.
Razer pushed away the thought of his sister betraying his trust. He didn't want to think that way. Not yet. Maybe she had left a note. Maybe she had left a meal. Maybe she had left something of her pre-existent presence. She would return soon from wherever she went – wouldn't she?
Scavenging through the small icebox where they had kept their food and the wooden surface of their table, there was no sign of a note or a meal. Shaking his head, Razer barged into the bathroom and - nothing. His tall structure stood standing there in the doorway, hands clenching the doorframe in shock, wood splintering his palms.
No. She couldn't have- she wouldn't have!
Paralyzed and in denial, he continued to bore his eyes through the rusty porcelain of their lavatory. His chest burned and tore; his eyes itched with tears he trapped within his lids. Then in an instant, it was replaced by anger.
How could she? She promised! Why is she running from me!
His pale skin boiled into a beet red. His thick fingers roughly shoved aside the stained towels blocking the tub. His soiled slacks hit the floor and he kicked them aside angrily. Chipped at the edges, his bare legs scraped against sharp dents of the tub but he didn't care. Stung by the wintry coolness of the porcelain, he reached out to turn on the hot water.
Scalding hot water reddened his skin and ran down his face. The water trickling down his tight pectoral muscles and legs swirled in the drain, a blend of brown and black. Brown and black – felt just like his day already.
The water helped him feel numb. The air grew stuffy and hard to breath. The moisture was sucked through his nostrils as he tried to pay no heed to the morning masculine stiffness greeting him between his thighs. That was all he needed at a time like this.
Fresh memories of her swollen, reddened eyes flashed through his mind. The pain she looked like she was enduring all alone, hurt him. As he held her protectively in his embrace last night, he vowed to make all those tears evaporate as soon as she told him the cause of it all. However, that time would never come since she had taken it upon herself to leave him here dumfounded.
Dumbfounded and heartbroken.
Betrayed and abandoned.
He felt like a chunk of what he believed to be his sweet, innocent sister was gone. He had once believed she would never lie to him. Now a part of him wondered if she only told him what she thought was best.
Fingers slipped down the tiles next to him. His plans to follow her through the night would have to be cancelled until her return. His green eyes slowly losing gleam, he rested his head on the tiles.
He couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of what would be a chain of betrayals.
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"You look like shit".
Razer only answered with a brute grunt towards his boss. Burgra smirked in amusement at Razer's sudden change in attitude. From 'Lording' and 'pleases', now lowered to the occasional nod of his head or grunts. He was obviously in no mood for sweet conversation.
Burgra watched the way Razer clenched the leather of the steering wheel maliciously, the way he trudged about like a dark cloud. The intermittent loud clunk and crash of the tools alarmed all those around him of his rage - bordering temper.
Never had he seen Razer this way, but he couldn't help being pleased with this new side to him. This was exactly what he needed to start off his racing. Pure heartbroken, boiling, passionate anger. This would be the key to the deadly road awaiting him.
Burgra's devious smirk was hidden from view as Razer busied himself with the oil spurting from one of the engines. His hands no longer paid tender attention to the bolts and knots under the hood. The whines and screeches protested his touch as Razer closed the leak.
"Be ready to race, boy. It's coming up in five. Spectators await to see your potential".
Razer didn't answer. Burgra didn't bother pushing the issue. He knew he was heard. With a puff of his cigar, Burgra retreated to the other end of the garage.
This was only a practice race, but was just as real as any official one. To race in this sport, you had to drive with racers that had true killer intent. Every moment on the track, the other racers would attempt to kill him in order to win, and it would be either by his fear or his arrogance that he would get through it.
In an instant, another presence loomed over Razer and he didn't have to turn to see who it was. By the smell of nicotine and the heavy footing across the dirt, it could be no other. Macen.
The track's best racer, current champion and former role model, now turned enemies. Now they both knew that this was business, no friendly endeavors would be exchanged on the track. Razer knew that if Macen needed to, he would kill him.
A fresh, unopened pack of cigarettes was thrown beside him. Razer eyed it for a second before disregarding it and returning to the engine work. The white-haired driver couldn't help but laugh.
"What's the matter? Don't feel the need to share cigs anymore?"
"The charity isn't necessary," Razer replied coldly, to Macen's surprise. This was the boy who had come here not too long ago, wide eyed, drooling at the tracks? Now he was sweating over engines and popping nicotine like candy. Not too long ago, he was eager to learn how to handle the wheel. Now he was going to handle it against him.
"Kids grow fast, don't they?" Macen continued to rake at Razer's patience. His arms crossed over his chest, tight blue T-shirt clinging to his shape beneath his dusted brown racing jacket. He watched Razer contain the urge to pucker his lips in attempt to spit at him.
Lighting a cigarette, Macen took a crack at him again. "Having personal problems? Although I may have to ram you off the road, you're still free to seek my assistance during garage duty - that is, if you're alive and shit".
Razer scoffed, turning to give him a sly, slick grin that would give even Macen a run for his money. "Bullshit is not very appetizing, so I'd appreciate it if you did not feed me it".
An astonished 'o' formed in Macen's lips. With an impressed whistle, he complimented, "Sharp tongue. It's nice to see you have that in you. You'll be needing something sharp for the tracks. Till we swap sparks…" Macen walked away with a wave.
Razer steamed over the engine. Thoughts of what his sister had resorted to in order to keep him from her secrets drove him mad. Every passing second only infuriated him more. To think he had been so concerned for her and his entire life he had only thought of returning her care. Now how would he return this?
Wiping the sweat resting on his forehead, he suddenly couldn't help but feel that someone was watching him. It wasn't a creepy feeling of any sort, he just felt someone was there, eyeing his every move. At times, he'd innocently snap his eyes around to look for any suspicious faces, but there were none.
Rolling his shoulders with a crack, loosening his joints, he shook off the feeling. He was worrying too much. His mind was toying with him just like it had been all day. He couldn't let anything distract him, not now.
It was time to race.
The next sixty seconds would be the longest sixty seconds of his life. It took thirty seconds to hop into the vehicle and pull up to the track. It was a Havoc similar to Macen's, just a more traditional model. Fifteen seconds to recheck all the mirrors and make sure all the levers and machinery was properly in place. Ten seconds to ponder if he was about to count down the last few seconds of his very short, depressing life. Five seconds as each light counted down to green.
Three – two – one – and he was off. He hadn't even bothered to look over at the other driver's expressions. He knew it would only make him regret this decision even more.
His foot steadily held the gas, knowing that too much power would only make him lose control over the sharp turns. The first turn came, lightly inching the brakes he swerved the vehicle around gracefully, dirt spattering across his cheeks. It felt good. However, before he could feel any more accomplishment in handling the car so well, he heard it. The first explosion.
Burgra kept his eyes on Razer's vehicle, easily stretching around sharp curves and dodging fiery explosions alit across his windshield. The land mines and homing missiles acted blind to the vehicle and Razer drove as if his mother's womb was the mud in the track. By the growing grin across his face, Burgra knew he was getting it. The power, the blood lust, it was making him feel majestic. He really was a natural, but would he be good enough?
Burgra arched a brow as he saw Razer's vehicle edging behind Macen's. Now this would be interesting. For the practice race, Burgra only requested two laps around the track and only three drivers took part, including Macen. This was just a test and it seemed that he had underestimated Razer too much, made it too easy. He wouldn't make that mistake again.
A frown pulled on his plump cheeks. Macen was going easy on him too. During any other race, the track would've already been soiled with burning steel and half dead bodies with Macen's name on it. Everyone – was still alive. Burgra's stubby fingers choked his cigar until it broke in half.
This – this was not entertainment. This was not danger. If it wasn't life threatening, it wasn't Combat Racing.
As Macen's vehicle pulled past the finish line, Razer finishing not too far behind, Burgra made his way towards the two. The look of dissatisfaction was evident. He glared icily at Macen who could tell by the look that he'd receive one hell of a 'talk' later on. This inspired him to pull out a cigarette.
Standing in front of Razer, Burgra tapped his foot impatiently. Razer didn't bother to look up. He was too suffocated in his dark cloud to care.
"Not good. Horrible. That race was the most tedious race I have ever endured. Plucking the few hairs from my scalp would have proved more enjoyable". Burgra was surprised at the small laugh that escaped Razer's lips. Was he – being disrespectful?
"Might I ask why that was so?" Razer took a long drag from the fix in his mouth, paying little to no attention at all to his boss. Without warning, Burgra's fisted Razer's collar, yanking his neck to look him in the eyes. The cigarette fell into the mud and Razer's glazed eyes met Burgra's.
"No death!"
Razer said nothing. There was a moment of silence as Burgra glared into Razer's eyes, searching for something apparently only he could see. His grey eyes squinted as it darted all over Razer's passive expression.
"Hmm…not quite there yet. Almost, but not quite," Burgra threw Razer back into the seat and walked away. Razer didn't attempt to figure out the strange meaning to Burgra's words.
He wasn't angry enough. He wasn't heartbroken enough. He wasn't lonely enough. With time and a little tuning though, he'd be there. It took more than skill to drive during these races; it took steaming, hot, emotion dusting away in empty ribcages. Fugitives and criminals, homeless and drowning in poverty, tormented minds made up the races.
Razer's mind wasn't tormented enough, Burgra thought to himself. A pair of eyes hidden in the bleachers caught Burgra's attention. He arched a brow at the strange shadow as he slyly made his way in that direction, careful not to scare the bystander away from its hiding place.
Concealed in the shadows was a young woman, her hazel eyes lustrous with admiration. Golden ringlets tied loosely in a cream bow, bounced off her sun kissed bare shoulders, her cheeks sprinkled in soft pink. A tight cream bodice, embroidered in lace, clung to her torso. Loose fabric spilled out over her legs, spattered in small, floral prints.
She failed to notice Lord Burgra's presence looming over her. His tongue slithered over his lips in deviant thought, as he looked her over. Her eyes were wide, her fingers clinging to the metal of the bleachers as she admired the object of her attention. He followed her love stricken gaze to his now bi-polar apprentice – Razer.
His thick finger tapped his chin as he had concluded his freshly formed metal plan. Lighting a cigar to shove between his pudgy lips, he decided to take the first step.
"Lady Marcela, fancy finding you here in such a criminal - ridden place such as this".
She backed away from the shadows with a startled gasp, her fingers clasping over her fluttering heart. Burgra scoffed a small laugh beneath his breath.
"L-Lord Burgra! Oh my, my deepest apologies".
Burgra shook his head at the wealthy maiden before him. "Your father would not be very pleased to find that your eyes are set on such unworthy meat, nor would he be pleased to know this is the place in which you escape his prying eyes". Burgra lifted his cigar towards Razer's direction, whom at the moment was smoking his fix.
Crimson darkened her cheeks; her small lips open and lost for words. Burgra smiled. He began to circle her. "You know, you're father is one our most valuable, if not, highest bidders here at the tracks. Without his business, we can expect to lose a large portion of our funds. We wouldn't want him to find a reason to cut his ties with us because that wouldn't be good for you, either".
Her fingers laced together as she pleaded, "Oh, please, Lord Burgra. Don't tell my father that I'm here- that I've been-".
"Worry not, my dearest. You're more than welcome here anytime you like, I'd just watch your pretty little sleeves, if you know what I'm implying. As for your infatuation with my newest driver – he's been a little distracted lately. I'm sure he wouldn't mind some new company".
"Oh no, I mean, I couldn't. Would he-" her eyes lit up like glimmering jewels at the thought of sharing a conversation with Razer. Burgra had no idea what a woman like her could see in such a dirty peasant. It didn't really matter though; He just needed her to inspire Razer a little.
"Well you didn't hear it from me. Do as you please with the words I bestow onto you, just make sure you don't get caught". Burgra walked away from her, twirling his cigar between his fingers, leaving a very wealthy, love smitten woman walking on air, preparing to approach her new love the next day.
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Razer, my dear brother,
I am deeply sorry for all the pain and sadness I must've caused you during the last few hours. I know you must be worried, but you have to understand, there are some things that I cannot face you with just yet. I will return home in time. Don't worry. I am safe.
Everything I do, I only do for you. Remember that and keep it close to you.
Your sister, Rosetta
Oily fingerprints marked the edges of the small, frail note in between his fingers. In the darkness of the early dawn, he rubbed its edges, almost testing its authenticity. It had been a long day, from all the races and Burgra barking how there wasn't enough death. Macen continued to flick at his patience and he still couldn't help but feel like someone was watching him the entire time. The shirt his sister had given him had caught fire in one of the explosions that he had only managed to escape by a hair. The shreds burning on the ground was like bad omen foreshadowing the night to come.
On any usual night, arriving home would be the peace that would lull his to sleep. Now it was a burden. The only things to quench his yearn for his sister was the note in his hands, her sweet smell lingering far off, just like she was. Far and somewhere he did not know of. It bothered him.
He wanted to protect her. He wanted to support her. He wanted to dry her tears and erase her troubles, but now, all he was, was the stranger that came to their home and received her notes that she must've written in a hurry just to avoid crossing his path.
It was quiet. Only the strays in the alleyways could hear Razer's tearing heart and screaming mind.
The note crumbled in his fingers. He had thought of writing back, but what was the point? When would she receive it? When would he face his sister again? The anger and betrayal only seemed to grow within him.
Why didn't she let him be there when she needed him the most? Hadn't she done the same for him?
The note still wrinkled in his tightened palm, Razer made his way to their 'bedroom'. Without another thought, his body dragged onto the futon on the floor and fell into deep sleep, away from his mind and away from his troubles. The only bedtime wish he held close to his heart, was that she come home soon and yet, he couldn't help but think that would be another promise she would break to him.
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Seven days of showing up to the tracks early. Seven days of strenuous races and heavy machinery work. Seven days of returning home without so much of another note or warm presence to welcome home. Seven days, and Rosetta hadn't come back.
The only thing that brought sunshine to his dampened spirits was the fact that day-by-day his racing skills were improving. Possibly through the crappy quality of how he was feeling. The wind in his face chilled his mind and the loud explosions and screams deafened the chants in his head. The faster he went and the more he tried to kill, the less he had to think about anything else.
Another occurrence that helped to lighten the routine of his now torturous life was a new devotee who was following him around like a lost puppy. Although she was no doubt beautiful and rich, she was the most exasperating woman he had ever shared space with and if women were all like this, it was no wonder he had never paid them attention before.
Others had already warned him of her father, who'd be quick to wipe his existence off the planet, had his daughter's infatuation with him ever been discovered. Yet no matter how he tried to swat her away to avoid such problems in the future, she only clung to him more. He couldn't help but feel strange pity for the poor girl. She seemed lonely, just like he was.
Still – lonely or not, there were some things he could not tolerate, like the pink flowers she had tied to his Havoc two days ago, or the flowery perfume she had spritzed all over his seats. Worse than it all was the nickname she had for him - it made his ears bleed, made him feel like a sissy school boy in suspenders. Nothing – nothing was worse than that.
"Oh Razie!" Razer groaned audibly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Singing such a ridiculous name all across the garage shamelessly was Lady Marcela, the daughter of one of the highest, and most dangerous bidders at the tracks. Sliding her fingers along the side of his door, there she was, eyes glittering and lips pouting.
"Are you off to race again, Razie dearest?"
"Yes, Lady Marcela-"
"Oh Razie, I told you to ignore such formalities with me. I'm no stranger," she encouraged with roguish wink.
Razer rolled his eyes to the side, "Marcela, yes, if you must know, I'm off to race again. That is what I do. Now if you would please-" Razer reached out to unclamp her fingers from his door and she only cooed in response.
"Isn't there anything else, or anyone else, that can occupy your time?"
The blond tilted her head with a frown, "Well, usually I attend the races with daddy, being the beautiful lady on his arm, but it seems lately he's found another pretty pet to take his arm. Someone he'd prefer more than me".
Razer couldn't offer her any words. He only nodded and hit the gas. Slowly retreating with a sigh, he couldn't let her distract him. There were no more practice races. This was the real thing. Spectators, including her father, would be pouring into the tracks any minute, awaiting fresh meat and fresh blood.
From what he heard, the bets were against him. Maybe he had only beaten Macen nearly half the time, but he still wasn't capable of taking his place. Burgra always murmured about something missing in Razer or something he lacked, if only he could place his finger on what that something was, and then maybe he could be successful.
Moments later, people began arriving at the tracks, flashing their bills in their grubby fingers with greedy grins. Women decorated their arms just to feign fascination with the races and provide the men entertainment. He silently wondered which one was Marcela's father so he knew who to keep an eye out for. Marcela was nowhere to be seen.
After a few minutes, the bleachers were full and the soil awaited their burning tires. Razer pulled up his Havoc to the starting line along with the other drivers, Macen pulling up beside him. They hadn't shared much conversation since their last bitter meeting; Macen hadn't bothered offering him any more cigarettes.
The first round of races was starting. Razer's knuckles cracked on the wheel, his fingers brushed his hair back and with the oil on his hands, it made his hair slick back easier with a shine. He no longer trembled in fear of what was ahead; instead his whole body shook with anticipation to begin.
His brows creased in concentration as they focused on the lights ahead of him. Five seconds in counting. The light turned green and they were off.
The grinding of droning metal against his wheel was a welcoming sound. Jerking his wheel to the left, he was able to use the power of his vehicle to run off the opposing car. Macen was not far off, shooting missiles carelessly and once again taking Razer for granted. Razer shook his head; the roar of the crowd encouraged him, blending in with gushing wind.
A smile crossed over his lips as he flicked the switch to activate his Yellow Eco weapons. As his homing missiles whistled through the air, dancing alongside the other weapons flailing at and around him, it was almost like a musical symphony. It was a pleasing site, watching them spin, watching sparks streak by and hot flames lining across the tracks.
The crowd automatically took to the new face with interest. Questions and gossip spread through them as they observed him. He was good, and by the third lap, still in one piece.
Marcela sat next to her father, wearing a dull expression. Her gloved hands crossed over her chest, puffing out from her tight bodice. The only thing that kept her entertained was the fact that her Razie was racing. Not being permitted to cheer for him displeased her. The fact that her father didn't even notice her existence because of the other woman he brought with him displeased her even more. Especially because she knew where the woman had originally worked and still worked during off hours away from her father, she couldn't understand how father could let such trash accompany him to the races. The thought that her father had his ways with the woman disgusted her in more ways than one.
Her father was a plump man, similar to Lord Burgra. His dirty blond hair slicked back, curling at his nape. Long sideburns led down to a thick row of goatee across his chin. Today he was wearing a Navy blue striped suit, purposely trying to match with his pet. She had to admit, the woman was beautiful, but she couldn't help but feel neglected because of her. Why couldn't her father save his 'needs' for another time?
The woman was made up and decorated just as she was. Wearing Navy blue gloves and a dress similar to Marcela's, her sharp eyes followed the drivers on the tracks, always watching the two farthest ahead, Macen and Razer. Every now and then she'd turn to tilt her head and give her father a grin or silly laugh just to satisfy him until her eyes returned to the races.
"Oh, daddy, why did you have to bring her today?" Marcela whined, her lips pursing like a child.
The woman seemed unfazed by Marcela's behavior and her father laughed heartily. "Don't you see, Marcela, her interest in the races are so deep, and she doesn't even heed your words. Wonderful company, she is".
"Wonderful company, yes, I bet". Marcela slipped under her breath and with that, the woman turned to her. At first she thought she had won and she was going to say something inappropriate to her, something that would anger her father and cause him to get rid of her, but instead she smiled sickly and turned away.
Marcela's eyes widened at the sight of Razer passing through for the final lap. Only two other drivers lingered behind him and Macen, proving to be no competition for the two. Huffing vengefully, she could no longer take her father's behavior. Perhaps she needed to encourage him to bring his attention back to her.
Without another thought, Marcela took all her concern for getting caught and the thought of her father discovering her new love and discarded it. Waving her fingers and singing sweetly, she called over to her prized racer.
"Go, get him Razie!" Not realizing that she had dug into something much deeper than originally planned, she stood up and threw her handkerchief. Razer and Macen turned briefly to acknowledge her call, and Razer's face seemed to freeze. He was driving too fast to linger and Marcela didn't know what to make of the reaction until she saw her father's company wearing the same expression. Onyx hair fell over her wide green eyes, her glossy lips hanging loosely in shock.
Her father's face flushed red with anger at his daughter's show. Pulling her down by the wrist, he sat her down beside him. Marcela would've usually been satisfied that she had finally caught her father's attention, but for some reason, she couldn't help but wonder the connection between his father's company and Razer.
The woman coughed daintily, feigning a loss of breath. Patting her back gently, her father whispered into her hair, "Are you alright? Would you like to retreat to the ladies room?"
"Why, yes, I would like that very much. I will return shortly. Forgive me". She nodded and left the seats. The race was over and Macen had won by a hair. It was a close race.
Marcela was ready to follow the woman until she felt her father take hold of her arm. She plopped back down with a gasp. "Now explain to me dearest, who is this Razie that you've set your eyes on?"
Marcela swallowed the large lump in her throat. She was in trouble…and so was Razer.
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Razer scrambled away from his vehicle as soon as they crossed the finish line. He didn't soak in the crowd's responses or step out dramatically to give them a full view of the new driver's face. All he could think about was that particular face in the crowd. He hadn't realized it at first, but upon Marcela's call and setting eyes on the woman, he knew it was she. It could be no other.
Macen watched Razer disappear with a shrug. Managing to escape the crowds and a fuming Burgra, he found a desolated area in the entrance to the tracks. Trotting to the same area in a hurry was the woman in question.
Razer felt his face heat up and his eyes burn. All the anger he had buried within him seemed to explode inside. "Rosetta! What in the hell is going on!"
His sister ran up to him, attempting to cover his mouth from screaming anymore. "Hush, you'll attract attention to us".
He smacked her hand away, "I could care less. Where have you been? And why are you here, dressed like this? Wha- what is the meaning of this?"
His skin was blood red, his face hot, and his fists balled up violently. He paced around her as if he didn't know what to do with his body and how to move it. Rosetta whisked her head around; hoping the excitement of the crowd was successful in drowning out Razer's tantrum.
Rosetta once again reached out in attempt to control her brother but he pulled away yet again. "Do you have any idea what I've been through for the past few days?"
Those words seemed to silence the moment. Rosetta froze, now dumbfounded with guilt. Her lips threatened to quiver and she was lost for words. She didn't know what to say, how to account for the wrong she had done her brother. The way he cupped her elbows and pulled her to him, it was as if she felt his broken heart beneath his thumping chest. It was awkward and frightening.
Had it been that long that she could not fathom the last time she had been this close to him? All these years she had held him through all his head colds, his chicken pox, his broken limbs and his sad, deprived childhood in which she repeated to him how life would get better someday. His body and scent that were once as familiar as her own was now a stranger's. She saw a different man out on the tracks, a different face glaring at her from the race. The man now holding her had grown and changed without her even knowing.
The only thing that branded him as the Razer she had grown up with and raised was the desperate green eyes that were now sinking into her own, asking for wisdom as they always did from his older sister. It was a shame – a shame that he didn't know so much.
Turning away from him, her palms pressed his chest, smeared with oil and other substances she'd rather not identify. With a dragged gasp, she pleaded, "Razer- I can't! When I get home tonight- there's so much to tell you".
He retrieved her elbows again, shaking her to look back to him. "No, you already said you'd tell me and then you left! You left me for days without so much as an explanation or clue! You need to tell me right now! Why are you here at the tracks? Why are you accompanying Lady Marcela's father?"
Her eyes suddenly flared with an emotion he had never seen in her. "Lady Marcela? How do you know her? And why was she calling you from the tracks? Why are you at the tracks?"
Razer growled in frustration. That was just like her, to answer your questions with some of her own or change the subject. He was reaching his breaking point. He could feel his grip on her arms tightening but it didn't seem to intimidate her. She continued to meet his eyes with defiance, the same defiance she'd fire at the soldiers that would come to their home in search for him.
At the moment he didn't care for the tracks. He didn't care for the races. Hell, he didn't care for his own life. He just wanted – no needed answers. He needed his sister back.
In a low, deep tone, coated with an anger that was new to her, he leaned in and warned her. "Rosetta. That's enough". His thumbs stabbing into the inside of her elbows, a painful pang shot up to her shoulders. She squeaked under her breath, trying not to sever the defiant look she was wearing.
With a warning strength of her own, her nails began to pinch at the skin on his chest. He too, refused to flinch in her victory.
When they were children, they had rarely fought like most siblings had. They were more like a pair of best friends that constantly agreed with one another and were in synch with every move and sound before it was even done. However, the few times they did fight, it all ended in nothing but regret and painful bruises.
They were both stubborn and they'd both rather scathe each other's skin off before raising a white flag. Usually Rosetta would win, being that she was the bigger and cleverer one. But now Razer was a man, bigger than she and stronger than she ever had been. There was no guarantee that if they had it out, she would win. Besides, it had been years since such a thing happened and she couldn't find it in her heart to kick him around, nor could she imagine him doing such a thing to her at this age and time.
Her shadowed eyes looked up at him, purple beginning to bubble and tear at her lashes. Razer wasn't sure if it was from his strong grip or everything in general, but the look on her face made him soften his hold on her. He felt like a prick. He didn't know why and although he felt he had reason to react so harshly, he still felt like he was at fault for everything.
Just as she was about to say something else, another voice called out and interrupted them. "My dearest, is there something that needs my handling?"
Razer and Rosetta turned to see Marcela's father towering over them in the entrance and a very meek, blond hiding behind him. His large hand was possessively clamping over her wrist as he reached out to offer another to Razer's sister.
They hadn't realized how their positioning, along with the expressions on their faces made their commotion look like a lover's quarrel. The suspicion showed in Marcela's father's eyes.
"Is this young man an acquaintance of yours?" His blond brow screwed up over Razer. Razer stood dominantly, feet planted firmly in the mud and smeared chest lifting heavily. He turned to Rosetta, and looked back to him, a look of possession also crossing over his features.
The idea of this man, this wealthy trash having his hands anywhere near his sister drove him mad. Just seeing the way his fingers curled so insensitively around his own daughter's wrist, he decided that this man was not to his approval whether he was a boss of his sisters – or something that she wasn't telling him. He prayed to the Gods that the worse of his suspicions would not be confirmed later.
Just as he was about to pull Rosetta to him and say something heroic like 'My sister and I will be going home, never to cross your filthy path again', instead she pulled away. Razer's eyes widened with shock, he looked to see that his sister's familiar expression had turned dull and cold, her chin tipped up with pride. Her fingers wiped against the hem of her dress, as if to cleanse the warmth of his touch away.
Razer felt his own pride plummet to the lowest it had ever been. Even Marcela seemed to wince at Rosetta's apparent rejection to him.
Clearing her throat, she said clearly, "I apologize, my Lord. Please don't waste your precious time due to such trivial matters. I've never seen this man in my life".
"What!" The protest escaped his lips before his mind had a chance to process it. What the hell was she doing?
Brushing him away like a tin can found in an alleyway, she made her way to wrap her arm around her 'Lord'. Smiling with conceit, she patted his broad shoulder in reassurance. "You know how it is, the winning racers are always looking for a prize". Ending it with a girlish laugh, Marcela's father seemed to forget Razer's presence and took appreciation to Rosetta's humor.
"Yes, I know all too well," he agreed with a glare aimed straight at Marcela, still cowering behind him. "Let us go. I'm famished".
As they made there way past Razer, Rosetta didn't even breathe in his direction. She hadn't even chanced a look back. Marcela's father shot him one last murderous grin before returning his attention to his sister. Razer just stood there, fingers hanging loosely at his sides. His jaw hung just as slack.
Before their figures had completely vanished, Marcela was the only one compassionate enough to look back and briefly meet his eyes. By the look on her face, he knew that she truly regretted provoking her father and being the cause for all this. Mouthing a silent apology, she trailed behind her father helplessly.
A siren sounded, signaling the next round of races would begin shortly. Razer could do nothing for now. He was too stunned to react even if he wanted to. He felt like she had just smacked him in public but this – this had to be worse.
When he got to his Havoc, he unleashed a sudden flurry of punches into the front bumper. Biting his tongue to hold back his screams of rage, his knuckles scraped rapidly against steel. Cutting and bruising his hands, metal dented and warm blood wet his fingers. He didn't feel the pain. Pain was beginning to feel like a foreign object.
In the distance, Lord Burga watched his apprentice with a nod of approval.
"He's ready…"
After that incident, Razer had won the next race against Macen, and every one afterwards for the night.
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As if Razer's anger played a major factor in the weather, the sun stalled in coming up daybreak, clouds suffocated the murky skies with darkness. Rain pitter-pattered on his body as he walked home.
His teeth clenched every step and his fingers clung to the insides of his pockets.
Upon entering his home, the open curtains and the fresh smell of food announced his sister's presence. Finally after so many days she had returned, and for what? He didn't even bother to close the door or take off his soaking wet boots as he followed her aura. Finally making his way to the bedroom, he found her.
Giving a startled gasp, she got up, a pile of clean clothing in her arms. Her hair was damp from the shower and all the makeup washed from her face. He felt like it had been ages since he had seen his sister's face. It was no longer angelic, no longer delicate, but now aged and marked with tired bags beneath her once lively eyes.
For a moment they just stared at one another, lost for words. Razer continued to fumble his pockets, dripping from outside, and Rosetta looked shamefully at the pile of clothing in her arms. She couldn't bear to look into the gaze that she knew was burning into her.
Rosetta opened her mouth to speak. She knew there was so much to say and she couldn't pinpoint where to begin.
"Razer I- I'm sorry- I know there's so much you need to know. It's just that I don't even know where to begin".
The more she spoke, the more his fingers itched. Every word from her lips sounded like somber gibberish that he could care less for. At this point, there were no words to make up for all the mistakes that she had done. There was no apology that would make everything better.
Earlier in the week he had longed to hold her, earlier in the night, he had found a new longing. A longing that had hit him when she swatted him away like a buzzing fly, a longing that urged to be released when he attacked the front of his racing vehicle.
"I guess I should start with my job. Well I- it started when-"
She stuttered and sputtered like an invalid incapable of language. She sounded ridiculous to his ears. Finally, not being able to stand her helpless looking expression as she tongue tied for an explanation to give him, he gave into his longing.
In a swift instant, faster than her eyes could catch, his large hand ripped from the inside of his pocket and threw against her cheek. A loud, wet clap sounded in the hollow room and the pile of clothes in her hands fell onto the floor. His fingers still open and stinging from her face, held itself in the air for a moment before lowering back into the comfort of his pocket. Expressionless, and with cold eyes he regarded her just as she had done to him earlier in the day, as if she were nothing.
Trembling fingers held her cheek, her lips motionless and eyes bubbling once again with tears. This time Razer showed no remorse as he had done before. Her eyes traveled to his face and from his face to his hand in his pocket, in which she could still feel his fingers on her pounding face.
"Since when did my sister become so weak? You can't even talk straight".
With a wheeze and a new burst of dignity, she backfired, "When did you become so strong to the point that you could raise your hand to my face?"
"Since you denied me as your brother," Razer deadpanned. He didn't move an inch as he kept his firm gaze locked onto her.
Rosetta looked away, whispering beneath her breath, "I did it for you. I did it for us".
Razer said nothing and she continued. "That job that I got from that man on the streets. It was a dancing job – exotic dancing". She could almost feel the atmosphere grow tense at her first confession but she knew there was no going back. This was what he wanted and he deserved the truth, no matter how much it would pain him in the end.
"Why?" he asked, in the most honest, plain tone she had ever heard. She guessed that after the most recent events, Razer was done with over traumatic, emotional scenes.
"I did it for the money, to put better food on the table," she admitted.
"And this relates to Marcela's father how?" Razer raised a brow, finally settling down on the futon, not caring that he was still damp from the rain.
Rosetta swallowed the lump blocking her throat. She knew he had to be angry. He had to be hurting. She could tell, although he was acting this way, he was holding it in just to get the answers he needed.
Her fingers began to tremble, "He was one of our regular customers. He seemed to favor me and one night, offered me somewhat of a proposition…"
Awkward silence hung in the air. Razer sat across from her, arms crossed and demanding her to go on. He didn't like what he was hearing. Nothing felt real. Everything seemed to transform into a long bad dream that his body refused to wake up from.
Tears finally giving in and streaming down her pale cheeks, she squeaked, "Razer-" Rosetta sat down, reaching her hand to cover his knee and he didn't object. "I'm an escort- his personal esc-"
Before she could finish, his hands rushed towards her. In defense, her arms shielded her face in fear that he'd hit her again. Instead his hands held her shoulders, putting her at ease and allowing her to release her shield.
To her surprise, once she lowered her arms, Razer's confused eyes met hers. They were full of despair and sympathy.
"Why, Rosetta? That was why I got this job racing at the tracks. It's enough put better food on the table so why would you do that? I can't believe-". Razer fought the cringe tugging his lips. He couldn't help but be disgusted and deeply disturbed by this. This was wrong.
He shook his head in denial and his sister only sobbed more. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to, but I did it to make our lives better".
"You call this better? Are you living a better life because I sure as hell am not living any better! I'd rather be sleeping on the concrete then knowing you're selling off your body to someone like Marcela's father. You don't need money from the likes of him. I can take care of us now with the money I have, at least until you find something else".
Rosetta shook her head, "No Razer it's not enough! I don't want just enough to eat. I want enough to leave. To leave this country!"
He blinked at her in disbelief. Leave the country? That was almost impossible. With the government setting their soldiers at the borders and the money it would take to take a train legally, it wasn't possible. Not in this lifetime.
"Maybe, there's a better life waiting for us on the other side. A place with better food and better people. A place where we can live freely without needing to hide our children the day we marry off to someone. A place where we won't have to struggle in poverty ever again".
Her eyes lit up with the very hope he had always admired. Very faintly, it shined. It saddened him to know she was dreaming a useless fantasy.
Rubbing her shoulders consolingly, he whispered, "Rosetta we can't. It's not possible, and even if it is, I don't want to do it this way. I won't compromise your worth over leaving the country".
"No, it is possible, and there is no other way," she said in an almost offensive tone. She always thought she was right with everything. It was like she knew exactly what awaited them on the other side of those fences.
"Whether there is another way or not, you can't stay in this – this job of yours!" he spat, "I won't allow it!"
Suddenly her head turned and she gave him a quizzical look. Their tender moment had turned sour in a matter of seconds, which by now was no surprise to Razer.
"It's not a matter of you allowing it or not! I have to do it whether I like it or not, Razer! That's what's feeding and clothing us right now!" Slowly her voice was kicking up a notch and he found that his was doing the same.
"Rosetta! You can't go back there, even if I have to tie you in the bathroom, there's no way that I'm going to allow you to go back out there and sell yourself like canine scraps!" His grip on her shoulders tightened and she pulled away roughly.
"Razer, I have no choice and there's no room for your say in the matter! Just until we can save up enough, I can do it". Once again it was turning into an ugly argument. Razer was finding that he wasn't very fond of his bipolar mood swings being exchanged between himself and Rosetta.
"I won't allow it! You're my sister! How am I supposed to feel as your brother if I let you do this?" He yanked her wrist to him and her body fell clumsily against him. She fought like a small raging animal, but his strength was now no match for her.
Angry tears glossed over her eyes as she tried to pull away to no avail. He only held tighter until he had no choice but to wrap both his arms to restrain around her flailing hands.
She mumbled something angrily beneath her lips that Razer did not quite catch – until she repeated it. This time it was loud and clear and he had hoped, he hadn't heard right the second time around.
"You're not my brother so you don't have to worry about feeling anything!" She had finally managed to confess in one rushing breath. The moment it came spilling from her lips, she regretted it. She had planned to tell him in a more gentle and comforting way but it seemed that her emotions had gotten the best of her.
His grip on her loosened and he shoved her across from him like a contagious disease. "What the hell are you talking about? You're deranged!"
Her fingers clenched the sheets sprawled out about the floors beneath them. It was too late now. The truth had finally come out.
"I'm- I'm not your sister Razer. We're not blood related"
Once again he gave her that kicked puppy look, that look that said she had betrayed him. It destroyed her to know that she was slowly breaking his innocent image of her. He had always looked up to her, always followed her and now the sister he believed to be so true and pure was the exact opposite.
His forehead wrinkled in confusion. His heart thrashed about and sweat beaded down the nape of his neck. "I- I don't understand. The hair- the- the eyes I mean- the stories about our parents, were they-"
Rosetta turned away and nodded, "We may look a bit similar but it only made the story more believable. Our mothers were close friends and when I was just a child, your mother passed away due to an incurable disease. Your mother's last wish was to have another child but she never could and so my mother promised to care for you in any way she could.
I was left home to care for you while my mother left to work out on the other side of town, doing something similar to what I'm doing now. One night, she never came back. After that, I decided that I would raise you as my own and tell you that you were my brother. Since we only had each other, I guess it was the only fantasy I could fulfill for the both of us since we were both left alone and your mother always longed to give you a sibling".
Razer was stuck in a stunned stupor. His eyes glazed and fixed on a particular spot on the floor. His eyelids wouldn't even blink. This wasn't happening.
"Oh, Razer, you have to understand. I never meant any harm. I only did it so we wouldn't be lonely, so you could feel like you had a family".
Razer didn't respond. He just looked shallow and empty. There was another awkward silence in the air until Razer finally lowered his body onto the futon. Still dirty and sweaty, his body curled into fetus position as he laid wordlessly. She tried to reach out to him, but at the moment, he was like a lifeless corpse.
Everything he had ever known, everything he had ever seen in his 'sister'- was a lie.
"You were too young to remember Razer. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have".
He still didn't respond. Taking note of his raw, reddened knuckles, Rosetta gasped. They were freshly purple and turned blue as it stretched into the limbs of his fingers. She wondered how he endured something so painful and what had he done to receive such bruises.
She yearned to lean in and brush his hair from his eyes. She longed to hold him and rock him back and forth as she had done whenever he'd awaken from a nightmare. However, this was one nightmare she could never comfort.
He must've hated her and to think – she only did it because she loved him so.
She left the room with intentions to fetch some rags to clean the open cuts on his knuckles. By the time she had returned, her brother – no – Razer, this handsome, hurting young man had given himself to sleep. She tilted her head and observed the exhausted figure lying in bed.
Sleep Razer. Sleep peacefully and retreat to a place where I can't hurt you…
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The next day, Razer wasn't surprised to wake up to an empty room. By appearance, it seemed his sister had left hours ago and this time she didn't bother leaving a note. There was no point. Razer had lost all desire to stop her and had lost all hope in fulfilling his 'brotherly' duties. The only thing he had now, was his racing.
The races were successful and once again he had found himself beating Macen. Burgra was bursting with joy and cash in his pockets. Macen, on the other hand, didn't seem to care either way.
Razer had chanced a look or two in the bleachers and there were no signs of his sister or Marcela's father. Even Marcela seemed to disappear. Rumors spread of his commotion with the 'mystery' lady in the entrance the day before. It was being rumored as a forbidden love? Between the rich and a peasant? Funny how they had no idea that his 'sister' was an escort with the way Marcela's father prettied her up.
Razer scoffed at the thought of him being the peasant Romeo in the story that swoons over the poor neglected princess. At first, she'd deny him, tell him that they couldn't be together and in the fairy tale ending, they'd run away together to live off the rest of their love - filled lives. It was amusing.
He saw how the women eyed him with curiosity and maybe even attraction, the men glared at him, threatening him with their gazes. Razer only shot back a smug grin, just to toy with them. Disturbed by his reaction, they'd walk away whispering some more, mouths open with shock.
Razer shrugged as he continued to smoke the last fix in his pack. He grumbled a curse or two beneath his breath as he shook the empty box. Macen no longer handed him his extras, so he'd have to pick some up before he got home.
They were the only damn things keeping him sane. His tongue twirled around the cig between his lips, burning sensations spreading into his throat and through his nose. It was the only thing he could feel right now. After yesterday, he found that emotions were far from him.
As the tracks emptied out, Lord Burgra made his way towards his new star racer. Not showing any signs that he acknowledged his boss approaching him, Razer calmly leaned back on the hood of his vehicle. Lord Burgra was in a much too jolly mood to scold him for such disrespect. In fact, he seemed rather pleased with Razer's down in the dumps attitude lately.
"Razer, my boy. I've got much news to share with you". A stubby hand shook Razer's shoulder and he finally rose his attention to his boss.
"First, let me say this. I know you've been trying to drive a traditional model – oh hell whom am I kidding? It's an old piece of shit - Havoc 1980's don't even follow model numbers by year anymore. Now they go by versions. Macen's a Havoc V8, nice and jet-black, gearing its ugliness out on the tracks. Wouldn't you want one just as nice?"
Razer nodded, pleased with the offer of a new vehicle although he had nothing against his traditional model, or as Burgra called it, an 'old piece of shit'. It was his first racing vehicle and he found himself favoring it a bit more than the fancier models. However, it wouldn't hurt to get a new Havoc, especially if it was a Havoc V8.
With another reassuring pound, Burgra nodded, "A Havoc version 8, coming right up. Matter in fact, to save time, you can just have Macen's".
Razer turned to him wide eyed. Taking Macen's vehicle was like asking him for a leg or a liver. It felt forbidden, seeing how precious the car was to him. He loved that car and for him to just snatch it from him was sinful.
"But, my Lord, I'm afraid I can't do that. What is Macen going to race in if I take his Havoc?"
They were slowly making their way toward Burgra's back office, located in the rear of the garage. "I wouldn't dwell too much on what Macen's going to drive seeing that he won't be racing too long either way". A thick tongue swept over his mustache deviously and Razer decided he didn't like the way Burgra's smile was suddenly so slick. He had something in mind, and that something had him involved, whether he liked it or not.
"By that Sir, what do you mean? Is Macen going to retire?" Retire? There was no such thing as retiring in this business. Racing was illegal. Anyone involved could never be freed from it unless it they were six feet under.
Opening the heavy, dusty door with a push, Burgra gestured that Razer enter his private office. With another slick grin, he urged, "Enter. I have a proposition for you that I feel you may rather like the reward".
Razer shook his head inwardly. Every time a proposition comes up, whether its in his life or Rosetta's, it was never really one at all. He had a feeling; this one would be no different.
With that last thought, Razer stepped in, right into what felt like the very pit of the lion's den, ready to devour him whole.
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As Razer entered his home that night, he found another presence was waiting for him in the dark. Unfortunately, it wasn't his sisters.
The sweet, familiar smell stealthily made her way towards Razer as soon as he came through the door. Clutching his open shirt in her fingers, she pleaded, "Razie, please! Let me stay here!"
He grabbed her hands in his, shaking his head with a sigh, "Marcela, you can't stay here. How did you find out where I lived, anyway? This could be dangerous".
Marcela pushed herself towards him. Her tears glistened with the dim moonlight from the windows. "I followed you one night and found out this was where your home was located. Please- I need to stay here for tonight. I can't stand to be home any longer- not while my father-"
Razer hushed her, deciding he'd rather not hear the rest of that sentence since it most likely included Rosetta's name in it. It sent a sting through his chest and he winced. Marcela clawed the skin on his shoulders.
"Please! I fear being alone!" Her blond curls found themselves resting in the center of his chest. Her fingers crept their way around his back without consent as she nuzzled her soft lips into his shirt.
"Lady Marcela- you can't. I just-"
"Please! Just this once…Razer?" This time her glistening eyes bored into his as she looked up, begging to be comforted. She looked so vulnerable, so lonesome. She looked like she was hurting just as he was. It was too difficult to resist.
Her nails scratched down his spine, sending new sensations riding up his back. Growling with new arousal and biting his cheek to control himself, he held her shoulders. He knew he should've been pushing her away, telling her to run as far as she could from him. He couldn't do it though, not after what he was feeling after that meeting with his boss. Not after knowing the new 'proposition' he had no choice but to comply to.
Impatient and not waiting for Razer's answer, Marcela held him tighter, brushing her lips against the crook of his neck. He was still dusty, sweaty from the tracks, the smell of murder sifting from his skin, but she didn't care. She begged, whispered, pleaded through her tears to be taken.
"Please, make me forget- and for you I'll do the same. I'll make you forget".
That was all he needed to fist her hair and dive his lips into hers. He wanted to forget. Forget who he was, forget how he lived. He wanted to forget about Rosetta, forget about Macen. All he ever wanted more than ever was to forget, at least for the night.
Lowly moaning and melting into his touch, Marcela grinded her thighs against him, slowly breaking his will. Grunting with approval, he lifted her up and her legs desperately wrapped around his back.
All that was running through his mind was the feel of this woman's needs rubbing all over him. Her sweet smell sunk into him and her warmth, warmth he hadn't felt in months, was enveloping him.
Clutching her thick thighs beneath the hem of her dress, his arousal sent her to grab his hair, calling his name for satisfaction. Razer gave in as he started heading towards the bedroom.
Between hard breathes, she asked, "Where- where are we going?"
Giving her lips another lingering nibble, he answered, "To my room- to forget".
That night he took her and that night he had forgotten all that he could. Forgot how wrong it was to be sexing Lady Marcela, forgotten how dangerous her father was. He had forgotten that he had no food to eat when he woke up and forgotten about the miserable life he was living.
He had even almost forgotten – that Macen would be dead by the next night and it would be by his hands.
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I apologize. I said Rayn would make an appearance in this chap but it turned out so long, I wasn't able to get to that part. Next chap, I guarantee, will be the last part of Razer's remaining past and back to main storyline, including seeing more of Rayn. Hope his past was intriguing enough to keep you entertained until next time.
Thanks for being supportive and patient.