Wench With Wings (15 page)

He stalked after her when she left and he was pissed. Instead of quietly walking her to her place he yanked her arm and down an ally, spun her around to face him and let the anger scream as he asked quietly, “Do you do it to all the men you beat?”

“Do what?” She spit back just as pissed.

“Take them back to your place, fix them up, fuck them than never do it again?” The surprised look on her face made him go on. “Yeah, I follow you. Yup, maybe even stalker-ish but
hey
can ya kill a man for their curiosity, your intriguing.”

“Ah, pussy cats get killed for it, so you must be one ‘cause I’m about to kill you.” She strikes out, but he dodges it. “Fuck.” She spit.

“Yea, you never strike first and I can see why you don’t it’s written in your eyes.”

“Eyes! Ha, you’re fake! And if you
breathe a word of what you saw I will paralyze you with my venomous strike, asshole.”

“Why? Tell me why you do it, I need to know. Why do you only do it after you beat them, why only one night, why throw them away after?”

“Unbelievable! It’s none of your fucking business creep.” She turned to stalk away, but he grabbed her arm and spun her back to him.

“Please, Trey.” He spoke softly, pleading for her to understand he just needed to know why she always threw them away. She spun her arm out of his grip, planted both her hands on his perfect pecks and shoved with all she had.

“Tell me why! Why do
you
have one night stands?” He lifted his eyes in complete steal-my-breath away surprise. “
Oh yeah,
I know. I have eyes everywhere,
honny.
So, why do you leave with a different girl a few times or more a week? And
why
do you please them, love them then leave them? Why not fuck them sleazy like they are?”

He took a step towards her, the hurt in her eyes throwing the anger away. “Because I
need
to love someone and I’ll only allow myself one night because I don’t want them to throw me away, like I’ve been my whole life. First by my own mother than every girl in school after her.” She saw the truth in his eyes and heard his pain and it made her angry. All the thoughts of this, of him; could she have been completely wrong about
everything?
She was mad at herself; mad and wanting to ignore the comment she just heard. She turned her back to him and started to walk away. He yelled after her in a whisper, “I want to love only
you.
I love you, Treasack Sirona.”

“Screw you
Ayden.
I’ll
never
love. I can't.” She knew she was not capable of love, knew he had no chance for her
not
to throw him away, she couldn't and wouldn't hurt him like that. So instead she would just piss him off, hurt him and he would hate her. ‘It’s for the best,’ she told herself, so that she would be okay with it all.
Angry
with it all, it truly was. It showed as she stormed to her place and drank herself to forget; the only thing she wouldn’t forget; anger.

He
was
pissed, more pissed than he has ever been in his entire life. She threw him away without even giving him a chance, as blatant as he could every image. He was not upset, was not hurt, he was mad completely mad; pissed and crazy enough to be in and institute, mad. He will
never
be loved.

***

Chapter N
ine:

Hitch In Their P
lans

She was the only exception, but she wouldn’t accept him. He would never again give a women a chance to make him break. ‘Fuck it and fuck them,’ he thought when he woke up the next morning. It was for the thoughts others had of him, the spoken words to him. It became more of a hate than the avoidance of words spoken, like it used to be. Like it was for her; a hate bred by man that disrespected women. It was opposite for him. He would not let her cement him in her walls. He would not be used as a brick to make her stronger. He would forget her with those five simple words that summed up all women.

That same morning ‘fuck it and fuck them’ took on a new meaning for Trey also. It was for all of it; for everything. What was the purpose of anything she has done? The fights, the women, the knowledge; the control what really was the point? What really could she do to change the outlook men have for women; it has been installed in every brain for decades after decades? Nothing. Not really. Maybe some, but at such a scale that would make a difference in the ‘
norm’
of society? ‘Not really,’ she acknowledged. Fuck it and fuck them for their thoughts, spoken and acted upon. Why should she care?

The first class of the day was a phycology class that she didn’t care to pay attention in. The second; sociology, nothing learned their either. Her tree at lunch; alone, without the ‘girls.’ Third class; art history, she paid attention in that. Training; she canceled. She would concentrate on her only outlet she allowed herself while growing up; drawing. While she was creating a piece of art, she could forget; she could avoid. That is what she was just going to do. She figured it all out; she didn’t need control, she just needed an outlet. One that was healthier than kicking some guy’s ass into submission, better than trying to change the minds of millions. There, she was only setting herself up for failure. Lost in art was a world run by her
own
creations.

He was drawing in his first class, but the meaning of it was starting to slip from his mind. That’s all he could think of was his next fight. The professor had to tap him on the shoulder to signal the end of class. He didn’t even bother with the next one; he ditched it to run. While he ran he became more and more pissed; he collapsed on a patch of grass and passed out from exhaustion with anger. When he woke it was dark and he headed to the bar. A few women approached him and he shunned them; he just order another shot as they strode away. Drunk he was; the fourth women to approach, he smirked and let her bring him home. When they walked into her place he didn’t bother to slow her down; he let her be the sleaze she wanted to be. He took her right there in front of the door, bent over her couch, pulled his pants up that were bunched up at his boots instead of off completely then he walked out without a word to her. The situation was enlightening in a way he never thought it could be. She liked it, she wanted it and now so did he.

She let her art guide her into a certain closure for the week. She text Gwen and Jocelyn to take care of things; the training, the girl's talks, the shop that she didn’t show her face in, all of it. When she did go to her place she went through the back door straight to the shower then to sleep. The morning pep talk’s; gone completely and replace with a new picture in her head to draw that day. Parks to draw, the art studio to look, that’s how she filled her days; with lies just to get by. Being an artist is all that has kept her throughout the years and this is what she would do; shut herself off from the world, from society and create beautiful works of art that the world would ponder on and she would be alone doing it and blind to what they all see her works to be.

To treat a women the way she truly wanted was like something he never thought to make him excited. He went through his days blind; asleep from the nights he stayed up to get as hammered as he could. Yup, shit faced and fucked; well, he was the one doing the fucking that is. The week for him went by without a true thought in his mind, other than the sleazes. ‘If I treat the same one that way, would she throw me away?’ It’s what he thought as that same girl from the first night approached him for a second time. ‘Unbelievable, she
's back for more even though I treated her like shit. Maybe that was all I was missing, I was just stupid enough to be nice.’ If he ever did see a women he already had; was good to, they would just smile and walk away. What, not satisfied, satisfied? He had no clue, but here this women was bringing him home for the second time. He threw her against the door roughly, and tore the cloths from her savagely, she screamed in delighted pleasure, he dropped the fight then dropped her to the floor and slammed into her wreaking-ly, stealing
only
his pleasure within minutes. He left her on the floor in a heap of
only
more want as he walked out buttoning his jeans, satisfied. She was there; at the bar the next night walking to him for more, he smirked not surprised then his phone chimed. Comhrac ~ FH3 ~ 10 ~ AJ & KB…. It’s as far as he read, he didn’t bother with the rest. He shoved past the girl and through the door. He would fight tonight! He would endure hearing Trey speak but he would not look at her at all. He didn’t need to anymore; she was only just like the rest anyway.

She wasn’t up there to talk, Jocelyn was and the second he heard her voice he snapped his head up for the first time since walking in. That’s when Dane walked over to him and ask, “Where have you been all week?”

“Out,” was all he could say. He was a bit stunned at the missing Trey.

“Trey’s not here tonight, apparently she had a gallery opening, one of her art works are being displayed tonight.”

“Really?” Dane could hear the skepticism in his voice so he elaborated.

“Yea, Jos just told me, she showed me a picture that Trey sent to her an hour ago, but I guess she had to stay at the party till it was over. She
is
the artist, after all, that is being introduced tonight.”

“Huh. Didn’t even know she did things like that. Well, I’m up.” He walked out to the ring and didn’t stare in the eyes of his opponent long he really didn’t care why this girl fought he was just gonna give her what she wants; one hell of a fight. It took not even three minutes to knock her out and it was a quick thrust of his fist to her face right after he
let
her get one in. ‘It’s for show right?’ He sang as he left without staying for the rest.

She stood in front of her piece, shaking hands with everyone who approached her. She bent her head in acknowledgement to them but didn’t care to comment. She didn’t even want to be there. When she talked to the owner of the gallery she tried getting her to see she didn’t want this part; her standing there meeting people who wanted to discuss her art, but she was forced; she wanted the money knowing she needed it; she made none at the shop this week and she was leaving her cut from the fight tonight to be split between the next three in line in her pack. Bills needed to be paid before she could let the place go and find a cheaper one. She didn’t want the shop any longer; it was tainted with Ayden always in her chair, tainted by all the men that came to her room. She wanted to forget it all and that place would not let her.

She thought about the fight that she was missing tonight; Ayden would be fighting. He could have it. Have what he worked for. Have what he knocked her control down for. She didn’t let Jos and Gwen know her plan, but she would soon; she doesn’t want the fights no more; she didn’t want to
fight
no more, she lost the purpose; the meaning of it gone to her, all of it. She cared about the women and their image of; the need of respect and hers all this time when really, how could she; she has no heart. It wasn’t the fight that she was meant for. The fight to make it through her father, to heal after his abuse. The fight was to survive that all and be okay with it then move on from it, to be what she really wanted to be, who she was meant to be; an artist.

He left as soon as his fight was over, texting Dane to pick up his pay from it. He knew Trey was an artist; he didn’t know she was one for a display though. He thought she just did it for the tattoo shop. He didn’t know she had the same dream for herself as he did. His curiosity got the best of him, he wanted to see what it was of hers on display, but he didn’t want to see her. He jumped on his bike and drove around wasting time. He drove past a few times and people were still there so he drove some more. An hour went by and his next trip around the place was close to closing so he parked and went in hoping that she was no longer there.

She spotted him as he walked through the doors and she ducked out the back. ‘Why would he be here? Damn it who cares.’ She stalked over to her bike and sat on it pondering if she should just wait till he came back out so she could explain her disappearance to the owner and collect her pay. She wanted to just up and leave, but she knew she couldn’t so she just sat there and waited.

He was entranced by her work and even more pissed. The title; Stand up for what you believe in. Which one do you believe in more? There is always a choice. It explains more than he has ever found out about Trey. There was a crowd of people and one women standing above all of them, her ghost standing away from the crowd with her head down and shoulders slumped in defeat with a sketch pad in one hand and a pencil falling from her other. Next to it was another drawing of the same but the ghost had both the sketch pad and pencil in her hand and she stood tall with her back to the crowd like she was heading away. ‘She’s turning her back to the fights. She’s throwing her whole life away. What a sham not a shame; fake-weak.’ He walked out pissed; everything he thought about this women was wrong. He threw his helmet on and took off, he stopped at the red light and turned to his right, there she was sitting on a bike. The guy behind him honked his horn and Ayden flipped him off; he really wanted to flip her off. ‘Why? Why did I have to see her like that, on a bike, really? A spectacular artist and can ride a bike and can fight and can organize it and can be the queen and can have wit and can give tats, but is giving up. WTF. She doesn’t have to
choose
and give up.’ He became more pissed and took off out of her sight.