“Our military men have that bred in them, Roxanne. They want to help when they can, where they can, and however they can. It is just part of who they are,” he gently explains.
I know this. He doesn’t have to tell me any of it. I know that Houston is a helper, he’s a fixer, and by God, I will not let him fix me. I am not fixable. I am fucking broken. I was born broken and I will die broken.
“I am not a project that needs to be fixed,” I state, my voice stronger than I thought possible. The therapist clears his throat but wisely doesn’t speak. “I pushed and pushed him away. He wouldn’t leave. He stayed up all night with me, for days. He didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat, he stayed with me. I could see it wearing on him. Then some things went down with a friend of mine, and I knew that I couldn’t keep going on the way that I was. I needed help, that much was obvious. Being in a different country, I couldn’t just hop down to the pharmacy and ask for my prescription to be filled.”
The room stays quiet while I take a moment to compose myself. I don’t tell them about my best friend, about Carson and her son being kidnapped by the fucking Aryans. That isn’t something that needs to be said aloud, especially not in front of a room full of strangers.
“I was sleep deprived, my focus gone, restless, depressed, and then came the hallucinations. I tried to hide them from Houston. I tried so hard, but they were creeping in, they were taking over. My time of freedom was over. I knew I needed help immediately, I came clean. I told Houston, then I told Carson, my best friend. I told them the truth, I faced their looks of sadness, their confusion and pity—I faced it all.”
“That was very brave of you, Roxanne,” the therapist announces.
Shaking my head, I tug on the back of my ponytail. “Not brave. There’s nothing that’s brave about me.”
He clears his throat but doesn’t speak so I lift my gaze up to his. He smiles at me, his eyes sad, I can see the sadness swirling around. “You’re still here. You wake up every morning, you don’t give up, you’re brave,” he says. “All of you are brave. If you’re in this room, in this building, or living out in the world, you are brave.”
Leaving group, I walk back to my room. Climbing into my bed, I take my journal out and begin to write. My entire journal is predominantly about Houston, my Tanner. It’s about how much I miss him, and what I wish our future could have been, but will never be.
“You’re almost free of this hellhole,” my roommate’s voice announces what feels like seconds after I’ve sat down.
Lifting my eyes, I look over to the clock and am surprised to see that I’ve been journaling for about an hour. That’s the thing with this place, the time seems constant, and unyielding. There is no concept of what day it is, or what time it is. We are served meals at certain times of the day, but past that, everyone is awake at such odd hours throughout the day and night, that it just seems like one long continuous loop.
“It hasn’t been so bad. I’ve been in worse,” I shrug as I close my journal and set it on my small nightstand.
My roommate is young, fair-haired, blue-eyed and pretty. Her youth is obvious though. Her clothes too tight, too short, too low cut, and she obviously has an affinity for sex. I understand it, I’m the same way to a degree.
I’ve stayed in relationships since my junior year of high school, never able to stay single, never wanting to be as promiscuous as I was when I was fifteen. Consistent sex seems to steady me. Like now, it’s been months and I’m feeling the urge to be filled, to have that connection that I can’t get any way, or anywhere, else.
“Me too,” she admits.
Lifting my eyes to hers, I frown. She’s young, too young to have the kind of experience that her tone reflects. She’s newer here, my first roommate has already been released. This girl, Melodie, only showed a few weeks ago. Her first two weeks were spent getting her meds adjusted, and detoxing from whatever shit she had been self-medicating with. She’s only now starting to become coherent enough to really speak to me, or anyone else.
“What’s your story?” I ask.
She looks at me, lifting a brow then smiles. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But I can tell you the watered-down version, that’s if you tell me yours?”
I think about her words, her offer, and I shrug. “Sure, mine’s not that exciting, I have to warn you.”
She smiles, shakes her head once, then sits down on her bed, crossing her legs and leaning her back against the wall. “I highly doubt that. Anyone with the issues we have in this place can’t have lived a boring life, it isn’t possible.”
Her words strike true. She’s absolutely right. We make even the most wild people on earth look fucking tame. She sighs, looking off to the side then moves her gaze back over to me.
“Do you hear the voices still?” she asks in a whisper.
I bite the corner of my lip. “I did, my meds made them disappear though. If you’re still hearing them, you need to be adjusted,” I explain.
She shakes her head. “They never go away. No matter what. It’s why I stopped taking them and ended up here again,” she explains. “Mine are real people from my past though,” she mutters.
I want to reach over and take her hand. “People that hurt you?” I guess.
Her big blue eyes lift to mine and she nods. “Before this, I was married. Raised to breed for a man, for his cause,” she whispers.
My heart stops inside of my chest. I take her in, really take her in. She’s fair, pale, blonde hair and blue eyes. Aryans. She’s one of their women. I’d heard that the Notorious Devils had rescued a bunch of women and children and just dropped them off at women’s shelters throughout the city. Fuck. She’s one of them.
“Did you have children?” I ask, trying not to let on that I know exactly where she comes from.
Traci told me a little when I worked at the bar, but Houston confessed to me what they were doing in Texas when they happened upon me and Carson. I’m sure he wasn’t supposed to say anything, and he probably doesn’t even know that I was listening. It was when I was so depressed I couldn’t even speak. He talked, and talked, probably to keep himself from going insane at the silence in the small trailer.
“I did, but I don’t know where they are. It’s made my symptoms so much worse, I think. I wish we would have never been saved. We were safe there, safe enough anyway…”
She turns her head toward the window, lost in her memories, in her tragedies. I don’t blame her. I would be lost, too. So fucking lost. Hell, I haven’t been through anything like that and I’m still lost as shit. Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against the wall and just breathe.
If I’m ever going to make it out of this place, out into the real world, I need to do just that—breathe.
CHAPTER THREE
HOUSTON
TWO MONTHS LATER
Like a fucking creep, I sit across the facility and I watch them load her up in a van, along with a suitcase full of shit. Another girl joins her. She’s small, probably young, blonde and twig skinny. She doesn’t hold my interest in the slightest. The only person I can focus on is the one that I haven’t seen in five long months. Roxanne.
I’m in my car, watching from the blacked out tinted front window as the van passes me. I know she doesn’t realize that it’s me. She doesn’t even know that I own this beast of a muscle car. Starting the car’s engine, I follow the van. I keep a pretty fair distance behind the van. I want to know where she’s going, and I’ll be damned if I lose her.
The van doesn't go too far, a few city blocks one direction, then it turns and heads straight a few more city blocks before it stops in front of a small yellow house. It's older, not the best neighborhood, but I've lived in worse conditions.
I watch the two women step out of the van, the man unloads their shit then walks them inside of the home. Taking my phone out of the passenger seat, I type the address into my notes app. I’ll be back to check on her, then I’ll take her away from here.
Making a U-turn, I
head back toward the clubhouse, toward our small corner of the universe. Next time I venture this way, Roxanne will be in the seat next to me when I head for home. I miss the bitch. More than I should.
It takes me longer than I’d like to get back to the clubhouse, I’m so lost in my thoughts that I missed several turnoffs. Once I’ve parked, I lift my hand to my cut and run my fingers over my patch. I’m a fucking member now. Something I didn’t know if I’d ever become, or want.
After leaving the military, I didn’t know if I ever wanted to be part of a group again until I found these men, these Notorious Devils. I belong here, with these brothers of mine. It reminds me of the military, we have each other’s backs, we fight for what we believe in, even if it’s wrong. It’s where I think I was always meant to be.
Walking into the clubhouse, I’m immediately greeted by the sight of Jizzy, naked on top of the bar. She doesn’t get up there very often, but it looks like she’s enjoying herself tonight. I smirk, thinking of the last time a woman stood on a table in front of me dancing, it was Roxanne. She was up that night, ready to party and I was pissed, but only because my cock was so hard it was aching beneath my jeans.
“Hey,” a small voice whispers next to me.
Glancing down, I notice Dimples. She’s got two cute dimples, one in each cheek both on her face and on her ass. Adorable little thing. Though I haven’t fucked her, I’ve been tempted. My cock has been neglected for five months, so has my soul. It takes a toll on a man, all I want is to feel fucking appreciated, and maybe get some goddamn affection.
“Hey,” I grunt.
She reaches for my crotch, her hand cups my dick and I don’t push her away. I should. I should fucking push her away so fast that it sends her flying on her ass. I’m not strong enough to do that. I watch as she sinks to her knees in front of me. In the middle of the bar, I close my eyes as she unzips my pants.
I grind my jaw when she takes my cock out of my jeans. And when her mouth wraps around my half-hard dick, I curse myself for the bastard that I am. I don’t stop her. Not even when I know that I should. I let her blow me in the middle of the clubhouse bar. She blows me and then I blow my load in her talented mouth, never opening my eyes.
When she’s finished, she tucks me back in my jeans then stands to her feet. Only then do I open my eyes and look down at her.
“I know what it’s like,” she whispers.
“What?” I ask, my voice harsher than I intend.
She smiles sadly, that fucking pity, there it is again and from a goddamn whore. I clench my fists trying to keep the anger at bay. It’s not her fault I’m a sad fucking sack of shit. It’s never going to change, even if Roxanne were here, they’d be feeling pity toward me over something else in my life, it’s fucking constant.
“To love someone who just isn’t quite right,” she shrugs.
I tilt my head to the side in question, waiting for her to continue. Her lips twitch and she gives me a small smile. “Loved a man my whole life. He’s never been right,” she shrugs. “Dropped me off here and never looked back.”
Inhaling deeply, I look down at her, really look at her. “How old are you?” I ask.
She smiles a bit wider. “Twenty, I’m legal,” she laughs. “Don’t worry, I’m not a shy virgin, wasn’t even when I was with him. I love sex. Maybe there’s something wrong inside of me too? Maybe there’s something wrong with all of us and some people just hide it better than others.”
Her words. They are like a fucking knife to the gut. The truth in them is more than I expected from just some clubwhore. She doesn’t allow me to respond, though I’m not sure what the fuck I would even say. I watch her hips sway in her tiny skirt, onto the next man.
“You gonna go get our girl back soon? Or have you given up?” a voice asks from next to me.
I didn’t hear him appear, too distracted by everything rolling around in my head, but next to me is Keys. His hands are shoved in his pockets and his eyes are trained on Dimples as she bends over the pool table, her eyes focused on mine. Turning away from her, I look over toward my friend, my brother.
“She just got in her new outpatient home. She needs to be there for a while. She needs to know that she can do it on her own before I drag her away and force her to be dependent on me.”
“You don’t have to force that, you know it, right?” he asks.
I shrug. I don’t know if I can allow her to be independent. Her independence means she’d be free to leave me at any time. Fuck that. I want to keep her—for always.
“What if she stayed with you because that’s what she wanted? Don’t be like that jackhole that she lived with before she left Texas,” he mumbles.
“You think I’d hit her? You think I’d fuck everything in a skirt behind her back or in front of her face?” I ask.
My blood boils from his accusations. I would cut off my own arm before I raised it to harm her. I fucking love her. I loved her the second I laid eyes on her. Her sassy fucking mouth, her sweetness, everything about her is exactly what I need.
“You just let Dimples blow you in the bar, I don’t think you’d hit her though…” His words trail off and as much as I want to punch him in the fucking face, he’s right.
Clearing my throat, I look at my boots before I lift my gaze back up to him. “Been using my hand for five fucking months, Keys. I’d use it forever if Roxanne at least acted like she gave a fuck about me. She won’t take my calls, she won’t even write me a goddamn letter. I’m at a loss right now, and I’m sorry if it hurts your sensibilities.”
Keys chuckles, he looks at the ceiling then back to me. “Don’t give a fuck who you stick your dick into. Carson does though. If you want her on your side, you better fucking behave.” He walks away from me, but I don’t watch him go.
The immature fuck inside of me wants to be the man railing Dimples from behind right now. I ignore the urge and instead go to my room. Locking my door behind me, I sink down to the floor of my room and bury my face in my hands.
Fuck. Fucking fuck.
I hope that I can last another couple of months. I feel like I’m about to break without her here. I know she needs this, she needs to heal, but it’s fucking killing me and the biggest problem, she doesn’t even give a shit about that.
ROXANNE
TWO MONTHS LATER
I wring my hands together as I wait for them to show up. Damn, it’s been too long since I’ve seen my friend. My only friend, my best friend, aside from Melodie. I bite the corner of my lip as I wiggle in the chair on my front porch. Well, on the front porch of the outpatient house.
My time at this little house is almost up. Mel and I have rented a small two-bedroom apartment and we both have jobs at a bar, our therapist strongly disapproves, but we don’t really care what he thinks when it comes to stuff like that. A job is a job.
A brand new SUV pulls up to the curb and I smile at the sight of the fancy as shit car. It’s Ace, I know that it is. He likes flash, I could tell the second I saw him, hell all of the Notorious Devils like flash in one way or another, usually black flash, like bikes and cars.
She rounds the hood and my eyes widen at the sight of her. I stand and watch her waddle her ass up to me.
“Don’t say it,” she groans.
I look down at her huge belly, then move toward her boobs. “Your tits are huge,” I smile.
“I said don’t say it,” she snaps, attempting to sound pissed off, but she fails.
She sits down across from me, her smile widening, and shakes her head. “I’ve missed you,” I whisper.
Carson nods, her eyes welling with tears. I have a feeling she cries now more than ever, though not ever because she’s sad, but because she’s blissfully happy.
“I’ve missed you more than you could know,” she sniffles. “How are you though?”
I nod, my eyes looking far off into the distance, knowing that I’m going to have to tell her my plans. I don’t want to, I wish that I could have avoided this part, but
she needs to know what is going to happen with me and the future.
“I’m good. Ready to come home. I have a better plan now, meds that I don’t hate, and I feel really great,” I semi-lie. I am ready to go home, it’s not the home she thinks.
Carson bites the corner of her lip, she wants to say something, and she’s trying to hold back, but she won’t for long. “Houston?” she blurts.
I flinch. Not because I don’t want to hear his name, but because I don’t want to say the words aloud. I shake my head. “I’m not ready to talk about that,” I breathe.
“You have to eventually,” she points out.
I nod. “I know. I have in group, but with you, with him, I just can’t.”
I can’t tell her that I love him. I can’t admit that not going back to him, just thinking about never seeing him again, makes me sick to my stomach. I can’t tell her that I’m trying to save him by staying away. I want him to have the best life he can possibly have, he deserves that and so much more. He deserves everything and he will not get that with me.
“I got the brochures for cosmetology school. I left them on the trailer’s kitchen counter,” she rambles, changing the subject.
I smile and nod, but I don’t commit to her actions. It’s sweet that she did that for me. Deciding not to acknowledge her words, I change the subject, again.
“Do you know what you’re having?” I ask.
Carson reaches out to touch her belly. I feel that simple gesture in the pit of my stomach. A simple gesture that I will never make myself. It aches. I know that I did the right thing, but it doesn’t make me want my own child any less.
My fake smile disappears as I think about that, as I think about the life that I could give Houston if I wasn’t so fucked up in the head. I want it, I want to run to him. I want to wear his name on my body, I want to give him children. I want it so fucking badly, but I can never give him that, and I can’t tie him to me knowing that, either.
Twisted with Chaos: A CASH BAR NOVEL Page 3
