Read Dismantled (Girls on Top #2) for Free Online

my head, my own hell is burning me alive.
     

     

Ciara
    We were able to drag Traxx out of the house in the hopes that he would get distracted, even if for a couple of hours. We are all at Twisted, our favorite bar, sitting at a table, chatting and waiting for the band to start playing. The guys are watching a live game on the bar’s TV. Well, I guess I should say that Colton and Notso are watching. Traxx is at the bar, drinking, yet again, a barrel of alcohol for what seems to have become his go-to reality escape. Girls come by the bar and hit on him constantly, but Traxx politely declines all their advances. He won’t even look at them. There is no interest on his part, he hasn’t gone out with anyone yet and to make matters worse he keeps himself in a perpetual bad mood.
    “Brianna, it’s been a couple of months since Marcy’s death, and I’m truly worried. I know we all agreed to let him deal with it on his own for a while in the hopes he will snap out of it but I don’t think he knows how to deal.”
    She nods to acknowledge my comment, “You are right. He’s not doing well. Colton finally agreed to speak with him and tried to get him to go see a counselor or psychiatrist, but Traxx was not very happy about it. He pretty much told Colton to shove it – you know where – and left the room. Also, Notso told Colton that Traxx has nightmares almost every night and he wakes up screaming, soaked in sweat. He hasn’t been able to rest.”
    “Crap. That makes me worry even more. I really don’t think he can snap out of it all by himself. He has taken it hard, which is good, because that may have been the bomb that forced him to change the course of his life. I’m just afraid that the new road he has taken is not better than the old one. Before, he would hide his real feelings behind a string of lovers, and now he hides his feeling behind countless bottles of alcohol. I think he needs help and I think I know how to help him.”
    “You? I’m afraid to ask. Please tell me you are not going to try to cure him with retail therapy? That doesn’t work for everybody, you know? Especially with guys.”
    “Ha! Real funny! Says the girl who likes to work out everything at the gym pounding something, or better yet, someone.”
    “Hey! I resent that comment! A good round of sparring helps release the tension and the feel good hormones.”
    “Endorphins, you mean?”
    “Yeeep. You know my tongue doesn’t quite work after a few drinks.”
    “Why is it that I think you actually get to feelin’ good because you get to kick somebody’s ass in the ring, and not because you are ‘exercising’?”
    She looks at me and rolls her eyes to the back of her head, her lips break into a small smile. “Whatever.” She gently hits my upper arm with her fist.
    “All right, Knuckles, we’ll leave it be for now, okay?”
    Brianna earned her nickname from me, Knuckles, because while in the service, she re-arranged a guy’s face who was trying to sexually abuse her. She hates it when I call her that. She’s also very particular about always carrying a self-defense weapon or aid. Now that she is a cop, she normally carries her gun and something else. I believe today’s selection is a pair of chopsticks, holding her hair’s messy bun in place. These are not the feeble kind found at restaurants. Oh, no… these were special ordered from Chinatown, California. They are made from ultra-stiff carbon fiber tubing. They are non-metallic, extremely strong, rigid and way lighter than fiberglass. All of us girls have a pair, courtesy of Colton Hensley, Brianna’s beau. When they first started dating, he thought we were kidding about her skills in the ring. By looking at her, she is toned like a girl who works out regularly, and certainly not like a girl who can kick your ass. Since then, he found out the hard way that a girl doesn’t need to be a body builder to be strong, and the most important thing about self-defense is skill. But I