Aftermath Book Two Crash Series

Chapter Fifteen

Aria

            The door to the outside is dented metal, heavy, and it echoes as it slams behind me in the faces of some curious mechanics/gang members. More importantly two clearly outraged and panicking boys. No longer guys or men they lost that standing the second they opened their mouths.

            The chill of the November air caresses my heated cheeks, slowing my steps which gives me a moment to collect myself. To tamp down my emotions before I screw this opportunity up to more than I’ve already done.

            Typical Aria. Brian’s voice haunts me from within. Unfourtantley, even beyond the grave he still has a hold on me.

            I try shaking it off so I can direct my anger where it’s deserved at this moment. How dare they speak to me as they did. They tried to intimidate and degrade me just for being a woman…and clumsy. Both of which don’t deserve the looks, judgment, or disgusting words.

            How many times did I let Brian talk to me that way? Even my father or any of either of their friends in passing while I stood by them with a tense smile and downcast eyes. I would tense on the inside, depending on the situation on the outside too. Ready for the words, looks, judgment, or a fist, a smack, a kick, whatever Brian thought I deserved, or whoever else was around to contribute to my torment. Physical or mental it all hurt the same.

            I spent too much of my life being a mat that people walked all over only interchangeable with a punching bag they could take their anger out on. I was disregarded and damaged in more ways than I think I’ll ever be able to comprehend or work through. And that incident in there…

            It triggered me so I reacted. I won’t be anyone’s mat and I proved it back there. Pride still has my shoulders held high but the night air and the dim parking lot behind the building remind me of where I am and why.

            Speeding up my steps I take a look around. It’s a decent-sized parking lot only lit by lights hanging off the edges of the building but not every light is lit, and one is flickering, playing with shadows that give the space an even creepier feel.

            There’s a dumpster a hundred feet across from the door I came out of, I’m sure for convenience’s sake. But I make sure to spin around so I get a good shot as I run my hand down the front of my leather top. Following the zipper, I reach the small almost microscopic lens in the weaving of my zipper. The camera there is the only reason I was able to come alone in the first place.

            Wyatt and Tara insisted on it so they could watch my every move in a parked car a couple of blocks down the road. Wyatt can come to my rescue if he ever thinks he needs to step in. Plus, it gives us the amazing opportunity to catch something my eyes wouldn’t and record as much of the layout as we can.

            I need more than just some clues or information. I need a way to take them down. The whole mob, Edward. The hardened criminals that aren’t here with good intentions or because they’re stuck in a system that failed them but instead they’ve embraced their evils sides and continue to spread it no matter the damage they do to those around them, or what’s best for society as a whole.

            Mason is right to want to get a seat in the Senate. This country and the world need real change but politics are disconnected from reality and funded and thrive off division and fear. That’s why it’s so easy, so convenient for Stasevich and Edward to work together. They need one another to sustain their way of living. And the only way to bring down the big guys is to get to the little ones.

            A pyramid is only as strong as its foundation and every low-level member of this organization is the foundation Stasevich holds himself up on. His family built their business, their power, their influence on the backs of the desperate and manipulated them to believe they had no other choice. When really, they’re getting nowhere but keeping themselves and those around them in poverty, crime, most of the time jail, and sometimes death.

            So what I really need, what Mason really needs is to get in with the communities and find the weak spots. Gather the support of the redeemable and get justice for those who are not. If we can take down the little operations, anonymously of course. While also guiding those that haven’t embraced their evil side to a new way of living. Where they’re valued and given opportunity and tools that will support them and give them the life they deserve.

            If I can simultaneously take the bad out and get the attention of the good we can cripple the organization from the bottom up. We can shine a light on the evil crimes that lead straight to Stasevich and ultimately Edwards’s demise. And along the way, we eliminate a huge criminal organization that can be actual guidelines for Mason when he does make it to politics so he can make a change that’s effective and long-lasting.

            There are matching garage doors on this side of the building in all different states of disarray. I walk beside them watching my steps as much as I can while also looking around trying to spot anything suspicious. Surprisingly enough the ground isn’t littered with used needles or any of the typical garbage you would see behind a building in this part of town especially but really anywhere. Not even garbage.

            I run my sticky fingers through my red wig before looking up and around. Are there cameras? Do I have to go straight to the bathroom on the other side of the building or can I snoop without them noticing? I don’t see any cameras, but I have one on my zipper that no one noticed so really who knows.

            Not me.

            Paranoia slithers around my stomach and up my spine. Goosebumps line my body in response as the little hairs on the back of my neck stand tall, aware. I don’t fight the feeling, but I don’t give in to it either. I embrace, straddle it, and rein it in. I let my feelings control me once today I won’t get lost in them again.

            The bathroom door sits at the end of the row of garage doors close to the corner with nothing else around and not even a sign stating it’s the bathroom. Gas stations are the only places I’ve seen with their bathroom on the outside, the rusty metal door fits with its surroundings but makes it no less intimidating nor strange. What’s it doing out here? Is this really the bathroom door?

            Habit has me rubbing at the charm on my wrist as I approach slowly but steadily. If there are cameras, I can’t see and there might be, I need to act as if I’m being watched at all times. Wyatt made that clear. He also knows there something or someplace in here where they conduct the criminal side of their business.

            Wyatt thinks it’s underground or he thinks there might be a hidden room somewhere in the garages that leads to their dungeon. If I can find this place or any signs of criminal activity, I’ll be on the right path. But how do I do that when they have people everywhere and potential cameras anywhere else?

            Wyatt said someone could be tracking my every move at any minute and he meant it. I can feel someone or something watching, waiting, or both. I wipe my dirty, sweaty hands on my pants as I approach the bathroom and pull on another heavy door. Careful this time to not overdo it and slingshot myself backward. I don’t need to end up on a dirty and dark floor, let alone fall twice in minutes.

            The room is so dark it’s suffocating…intimidating.

            With the door pulled open wide, I take a look from side to side. Is there anyone around? Is someone going to lock me in here? Will Wyatt be fast enough? Will I end up dead this time?

            Speaking of, my phone starts vibrating in my bra. Leaning on the door I unzip the leather a tad so I can pull it out. Wyatt’s name flashes across the screen but I press ignore. He’ll tell me to retreat but I need at least enough dirt to take the scumbags from back there down. Plus, I didn’t dress like this just to feel like this and get absolutely nothing out of it.

            Swiping up and clicking on the flashlight app I breathe a sigh of relief as the light has the intimidating darkness retreating. More so it is indeed a bathroom. A dirty one, of course. But a bathroom it is.

            I move forward but don’t let the door shut all the way, keeping it opened with my back but only just. Ensuring I can get out again. At the same time if anyone is watching they’ll be assured I really am just using the bathroom.

            My phone starts vibrating again with Wyatt’s name, but I swipe down, my hands right where the camera is, I smirk a tad knowing how much that pissed him off. I bet Tara is laughing her ass off though. Oh, she’d do the same thing, no doubt.

            Swinging my phone around the room I cringe some more as the disgust hits me in full force. This s**t is gross, gross. As in I think there is literal s**t on the rim of the toilet. Holding my breath tight I can’t help but wonder…

            “What the f**k?”

            This can not be the bathroom they use? They may be all men. Big and burly dirty men but there is no way they would find this acceptable. So the question begs… where do they do their real dirty business?

            Counting to ten I gather my wits, tamp down the lingering anger, and tuck away the hurt and self-demeaning voice back to the dark corners of my f****d up brain.

            Come on, Aria. Come on, think.

            Thinking fast I turn the light off, breathing heavier as the darkness envelops me. It’s heavy enough to have its own threatening voice, chilling me to my bones. I’m sweating and gagging as my heavy breaths draw in disgusting stale air. Slowly I crack the door opened enough to check around my immediate surroundings.

            I can’t see to my right, directly behind the door but everything to left is clear. Sucking in my stomach and I turn my head and go for it. Slithering through the crack door while trying to keep it as steady and still as possible. And as soon as I clear the door I shoot to the other side of the building, clearing the corner and hugging the sides of the building.

            If someone sees me now they’ll know I’m up to something, they might already. This side of the building is an alleyway between another building both are tall but what’s interesting is the metal fire escape. It runs along the side of the other building but it doesn’t close up. It’s nailed to the ground where a metal plate lays.

            There could be something under there. Or there could be something farther up. The garage is only a story tall but this building is four. Wyatt said he was sure they handled their business here but where?

            That’s what’s really bugging me. Where are they doing their business? And I mean all of it? Because I know for damn sure that bathroom back there isn’t where even men like them would accept taking their forty-five-minute s**t. But the office space was a little waiting room, a front desk, and a very small office behind the big guy at the front desk. I could see almost all the way in and it was the size of a closet with a desk crammed in and overflowing paperwork.

            The outside of the building ran directly alongside the office wall and there was no room in between. Blowing out my theory of a hidden room or door in there. Not even a spare bathroom.

            Which again begs the question…where do they do their business?

            I know I don’t have much more time before someone comes looking for me, I made quite the scene back there I won’t be welcome much longer. But I can’t pull my eyes away from the black metal fire escape. There’s just something there picking at me.

            Looking both ways to make sure the coast is clear I shoot to the other side of the alley. Smooshing into the hard, prickling brick next to the cold metal stairs with my heart racing, my adrenaline pumping in overdrive.

            I notice the paint first. It’s chipped in long stringy sections with the rusted metal underneath like sometimes a long time ago someone stood here piking it away. Pulling it strand by strand in boredom, the metal rusting with age. The edges have cracked with new small paint chips falling naturally, a consequence of the original injury.

            What’s really intriguing is the gross concrete mixture, like grout between each brick. Inching forward I spin around looking at the bricks behind me before swinging my gaze back to the spot behind the staircase. The grout in front of me is gray with a layer of dirt and grit on top but I can clearly see the gray.

            But over there? At the edge of the staircase is an interlocking type pattern running from floor to just below the platform above. Running across the top in a straight line there’s more missing cement. The outline of a door. A door that’s starting to shake open.

            “f**k!” I mumble under my breath before making a split-second decision. Running on my toes only to keep my heels out of the wholes in the stairs as I throw myself forward and shuffle up. With heavy breaths, my heart pounding in my ears, and the loud echo of the clanging metal echoing through the alley I just barely manage to shuffle high enough up to press my back to the brick and have the stairs settle enough before the door opens below me.

            “Sssss,” someone hisses in pain as heels stumble on the uneven ground and the brick door smacks shut behind whoever’s below.

            I hear a mumble of some sort but I can’t make anything out and I certainly can’t see anyone below me or make anyone out. Pressing my hand to my stomach I try to hold some of my boiling emotions in as I hold my breath, working on staying silent and steady. They can not lookup.

            With my head held firmly against the rough brick behind me, I’m forced to look down my nose to try and make out the people below. I can’t see much, most of my vision blocked out by woven metal only leaving small gaps to spy through in this already tough position. But I can make out two woman’s curly hair and bright, tight outfits. With a tall muscular man following behind them. None of their features are clear nor could I ever identify them in the future but I pay attention to what I can.       

            The girls are staying close together, shivering and gripping their arms while leaning on each other like they haven’t eaten in five days and they're so light-headed they might pass out at any given second. While the man seems to be in charge and fed.

            “Hope you didn’t waste everything you got Dollface.” The man's condescending voice carries over to me in time to see him grab the girl on the left by the back of her hair turning her towards him and out of the other girl's support. Both girls stumble, the one in his grip into his arms while the other topples and crashes into the wall below me but up closer towards the mouth of the alleyway and the disgusting bathroom.

            A hiss of agony is followed by jerky movements as the girl that was flung into the wall tries to stand back up and right herself. All I can make out is her shaking and weak outline but I can tell she’s in distress. That she doesn’t want to be here, she doesn’t want to live this life. My heart pounds faster my blood rushing in and out of my ears as I try and stay calm enough.

            There’s a lot on my mind at this moment but the most urgent, demanding thoughts are ones that I can not move or make a noise so I don’t give myself away. And two I need to get back into the office before they come looking for me. Lastly, my heart and mind struggle with what I should do about the girls. How can I stand up here silent and watching as they’re clearly in distress?

            “Don’t worry Ronnie I saved some for you. I just need a drink of water…” She’s cut off with the echoing sound of his hard slap across the face as she too is flung backward only to be snapped back with the bruising grip he has on her arm.

            “You love getting in trouble, don’t you?” He questions her but he doesn’t wait for her reply just uses his strength against her weakened, shocked state to shove her to her knees. “That’s good because I love punishing you.” His voice is low and heated making his desire is transparent in his tone.

            Stretching and shifting my eyes I check in on the other girl. From what I can make out she seems to be facing away from the couple using the wall to stay upright but only barely. She doesn’t look like she’ll be awake much longer let alone make it wherever they’re going. She hunched on the wall, using both hands to steady she tries to burrow her head into the hard cold brick. I can’t tell if they are really malnourished, drugged, or both.

            Regardless my heart hurts for both of them, thinking about their struggle and their daily lives and torture? No one deserves that. And right now, I’m standing here waiting and watching, being silent and allowing the abuse to continue. Acidic vomit burns its way up my throat and forces me to take in a gasp of fresh air or I’ll be forced to rain vomit on their heads.

            The sound of the man’s belt buckle opening covers my gasp keeping me hidden but only increasing my nausea and anxiety. I can’t make out the woman, but I hear her sounds of withdrawal. I recognize her self-retreat as she works to protect as much of herself as she can from her abuser. How can I stand here and do nothing? Those girls are victims and they’re being actively abused at this very moment, below me. While I hide.

            There’s a sloppy wet sucking sound mixing with a feminine whine and an overly aggressive grunt of approval. With disgust, sympathy, and empathy forcing me to be brave I peel away from the wall so I can look at my feet. I need to do something.

            Thankfully just as I’m about to run down the steps and make myself known to help these women in the short term at least I’m saved by a random car’s headlights shinning down the alley at the opposite end then I came and they were headed.

            All three of the figures below stand quickly, the man working on his belt while the woman wipes at her mouth and discreetly spits off to the side before looking behind her. Noticing the sulking shoulders of the other woman she runs over to her helping to support each other as the man pushes them around the back of the building and away from the headlights.

            I suspect it’s Wyatt, but I don’t dare move until the lights disappear. As quickly and quietly as I can I slither down the fire escape before shooting to the front of the building, walking casually. If anyone asks, I needed some fresh air. And that’s the story I’m sticking with.

            I get Tara’s car and leave with no further incident, but I do send out a silent promise to the girls back there. They might not know it now, but I’ll get them to safety. They just need to survive a little while longer.