by Mallory Funk
I decide that I am done for the day and head to the kitchen where I boxed up everything. I knew I had left the alcohol there.
When I get to the box, I hesitate. Fuck. Thinking about Stacey has got me twisted up inside.
I grab a random bottle, open it up, and take a big drink out of whatever it was. I don’t notice anything but the burn.
I decide to sit outside on the back patio and try to forget times when things were easier.
Camilla
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I don’t know who would try to contact me right now.
The women text me often but, considering they are all here right now, I don’t think that it’s any of them.
I wasn’t paying attention to any of the conversation since I kept wondering about Tyson, and only focused enough that they didn’t question what was on my mind.
What would I really say? I’m thinking about a man who I haven’t seen since I left the clubhouse and the only time I did, he took off the second he had seen me?
I must be really foolish to still be thinking about him.
I sigh as I check my phone.
Tyson: I miss seeing those bear pictures. I often wonder what else he has been up to.
I can’t help the catch in my breath. What am I supposed to say to that?
Not a word for three weeks and then, all of a sudden, this?
Tyson: I’m sorry.
I can’t help but hesitate. What can I really say? Is this forming some sort of unhealthy attachment for both of us?
Me: My obvious attempt at forming a friendship didn’t work out. I think it’s best if we just cut our losses while we are ahead.
Tyson: Listen, I’m sorry I was a dick but this hasn’t been easy for me.
Me: Maybe that’s more reason to just stop whatever this was.
Tyson: I don’t want to and I don’t think you do either. Let’s just get to know each other. That’s all I can offer. My head isn’t in the right place for friends or more.
Me: I’ll think about it.
I sigh as I stick my phone back in my pocket and Krista catches my eye.
“Problems?” she asks curiously.
It doesn’t seem like anyone is paying any attention to us, so I talk freely.
“It’s just Tyson,” I say quietly. She moves closer to me and gives me a look of confusion.
“Torch.” I say his road name this time.
This time, I watch as her eyebrows shoot up and she looks surprised.
“Wow, that’s not what I expected you to say. What’s the problem? I didn’t know you guys were talking, honestly,” she says quietly. I think she knows that it’s not something that I want people talking about right at this moment.
I tell her about the bear and me sending him silly pictures, but that he laughed at each one and didn’t give me the impression that they were annoying in any way. Then, how I saw him at the BBQ but he took off as soon as I showed up. Then about how he messages now even though I haven’t sent him anything in three weeks. She listens while making sure that no one else is paying attention to our conversation, which I’m very thankful for.
After I finish telling her everything, we sit there quietly. I have no idea what she’s thinking and I feel my leg start to bounce in anticipation of her thoughts.
“Well?” I ask, not so patiently.
“You want to know what I think?” she asks.
And I give her a “duh, are you kidding me?” kind of look.
She just chuckles off my obvious frustration.
“Well, I think he has some sort of feelings for you and I’m not saying that it’s in a romantic way, but maybe it’s scaring him because letting another woman in, or even person for that matter, would be scary for him. These last few months have been hard watching him turn from the silent, brooding biker to a biker who is more interested in what’s at the end of a whisky bottle. He knew how to smile and have fun with his friends, but has now turned into this guy who is there in the background for when we need him, and we can still count on him, but I’m sure that if his family wasn’t part of the club we would have lost him to the darkness a long time ago,” she says with a concerned look on her face.
I think about that for a moment. Everyone he knows is part of the club, and that’s probably why he comes to the clubhouse and is there in times of need. I wish that there was some way I could help him, but I’m not sure what, if anything, could.
It’s not like I want him to look at me in a romantic way because there is no way I am ready for that yet, but I could see us being friends. He is already someone I trust and feel safe with.
I know that he said that he wasn’t ready for friends, but wanted to get to know each other. I don’t know how else I would place us. If the idea of friends frightens him, I couldn’t imagine becoming anything more than that.
I honestly don’t know if I would ever trust a man with my body again anyway.
It’s not only everything that has been done to me; I also have scars all over my body. I can barely look at myself in the mirror, so how can I expect someone else to?
I don’t think that I could be naked in front of someone again.
When I look at my scars, I see someone weak and naïve. How could I have been so stupid as to trust Brent? He had told me so many lies and I was able to see the monster underneath over the five months I was held.
There were constant taunts and an evilness that I had never seen. Once I was handed over, I couldn’t see the same guy who took me out to dinner or who was patient when it came to having sex.
Flashes of the months of brutal torture, and wishing it would all just end, try to take over my mind.
I squeeze my eyes shut and take deep breaths.
I try to focus on the voices and people around me, but every sound becomes muffled like I’m underwater and it’s almost like I can smell that room like I am back in there.
I can’t feel anything, but there are arms on top of mine and somewhere in the back of my head, I know that they aren’t trying to hold me down, but the state of my mind doesn’t understand that and I start to shake.
“No, please don’t,” I plead.
My voice is shaking and breaking. Like the first days I was there and begging for them to let me go.
They would laugh and grin at me menacingly. I had learned fast that they loved it when I begged, cried, or screamed.
Reaper’s face flashes in my head and I can still feel his hands on my skin and feeling like nothing will ever make me clean.
My breathing gets harder and I feel like I’m suffocating.
Something is pushed into my face and it’s soft and smells like Tyson. I instantly know what it is.
The teddy bear that has somehow become my security blanket in ways.
It may not be healthy, and I may rely on it too much, but I can’t bring it to me to care. I can’t begin to explain the reason his presence or scent calms me.
I breathe it in and take a few deep breaths.
Everything slowly comes back to me and I open my eyes. I see the concerned faces of everyone. Ella and Krista are on each side of me trying to offer me comfort. My brother Xavier is in front of me and I’m assuming he was the one that took a shot that the bear would calm me.
I clutch it tightly to my chest as I feel my hands are still shaking.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened,” I say lamely.
“It’s alright. Those are bound to happen. It’s not something that is just going to go away,” Krista says, and I nod my head in agreement.
“I was lost in my head and I couldn’t shake the memories away. It felt like I was back there,” I say, and I see her nod her head from the corner of my eye.
“Well we will do anything to help you. Even if it’s just to get your mind off of it. Like where did you get this adorable plush bear?” Olivia asks, and I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“Oh ah I got it in the mail,” I say as I hear my brother let out a snort.
&n
bsp; I turn my head to him and narrow my eyes.
“What? It’s true,” I say.
He grins at me. “Cami, if you are going to pretend that biker didn’t send this to you, then you picked the wrong thing to lie about because his name is literally on the back of the bear’s vest.”
I instinctively cover the back of the vest. I watch as Ella’s mouth opens in shock.
“My brother gave you this?” she asks in disbelief.
I nod my head slowly.
I’m not sure what she is thinking right now, but she looks pretty curious.
“Wow. I wonder what made him do that,” she whispers, and I’m not sure if I was supposed to hear.
I shrug. “It’s nothing. I wasn’t sleeping, so he found a way to help me out.”
I try to sound casual, and I don’t know if I succeed.
“I do know that it means a lot to me that he did this. I don’t know if there will ever be a way I could repay him.”
They all nod their heads, but I honestly can’t tell what they are thinking.
Tyson found a way to help me while I heal, and there’s nothing more than that. He doesn’t want to be friends either so there is no way to read more into it than what it is.
I need to find the strength inside of me that I know is there.
My panic attack shows me more than ever that I need to find a way to fight this.
They did not break me then and they won’t now.
I can overcome this.
Chapter Nine
Tyson “Torch”
One year.
It has been one year since I lost her.
I close my eyes the second they open and try to will the pain away.
It’s been one year since Stacey was taken from me.
I already feel like there is a heavy weight on my chest.
The raw crushing pain I feel every time I think about Stacey being gone has multiplied.
I hear my phone going off on the night stand, but I already know that it’s my brothers and family.
There is no way anyone will leave me alone today.
I’m sure as fuck not ready for anyone to see my house.
I pick up the phone in a gruff voice. “Yeah?”
“Son.” That’s all my dad says. His tone is laced with concern and pain.
I know that Stacey was like a daughter to him and this day has to be hard for him.
“Dad,” I say back. I don’t know what I could say to him without letting my voice break.
“There is going to be a memorial at the club today. Stacey’s memory deserves to be shared and celebrated,” he says, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Just give me an hour,” I say blowing out a breath.
“Okay son. I’ll see you soon. Sober,” he says before he hangs up. I know that’s not a request but an order.
I get up reluctantly.
I had changed so much in my house. It feels like a personal healing journey, so I’m not ready for anyone to see it or comment on it; especially today of all days.
I shower and make sure everything is locked up before I make my way out of the house.
My eyes catch the box like every other single time that I pass the room.
I turn my head and walk out the door.
I am in a place where I want to know what she had left as a surprise for me, but I also don’t want to know because if it’s a simple, silly gift like she loved to do, I don’t know if I could take it.
It was the last thing she had ever given me and that symbolizes something that I am not ready for.
I make it to the clubhouse in record time.
Everyone is there. I would say that it was early, but it’s already past noon.
I drank enough to make sure that I slept most of the day away because it’s just a reminder that I had failed my woman.
I hear some shouting. I look around the main room and see Krista standing with her hands on her hips glaring at Pyro and Bullet.
When I look at everyone else around the room, I see that they are trying to hold back laughter. It’s the same look everyone gave Ella when she had her hormonal outbursts, so I am pretty sure that it has something to do with Krista’s pregnancy hormones.
“I can’t believe you did that to me!” she yells and looks like she is on the verge of tears.
They both look like they would rather be anywhere than right here.
“What’s going on?” I ask curiously as I step further into the room.
“It has finally happened…” she whispers in horror.
“What has happened?” I ask, growing a little more concerned.
“I’m turning into Ella,” she says as she covers her face with her hands.
“I'm sorry, what?” I ask now a bit confused.
“Ella!” she says throwing her hands in the air and pointing at my sister like I don’t know who Ella is.
“I’m lost, how are you turning into her? Not that there is anything wrong with that,” I quickly add when my sister scowls at me.
“All my skittles are gone!” she whispers in defeat.
I’m pretty sure I look like a fish at this point because she honestly didn’t just say “skittles,” did she?
That would mean that she’s going to freak out like Ella did when she was out of apple juice.
“What happened to them?” I ask reluctantly. I am not an expert on handling pregnant women, but I think that it’s a bit too late to walk away from this conversation.
She points at Pyro and Bullet with a glare in her eyes.
“They went into my cupboard and ate them!” she says like she’s ready to get mad at a child.
“Your cupboard?” I ask again.
“Yes, they gave me a cupboard and said whatever was in there, they wouldn’t eat; but then I woke up this morning to both of them eating my skittles while having coffee.”
I want to laugh, I really do, but I know that she would turn that glare at me. Pregnant women can be downright scary.
“See! I’m turning into Ella… I just knew that it was going to happen someday,” she says with her eyes welling with tears.
“And now I don’t have skittles…” she whispers.
“Did somebody say skittles?” I hear a deep voice say and I turn around to see Kid walk into the room with the biggest bag of skittles I have ever seen.
He walks over to Krista, and you could swear that her eyes light up like he just bought her diamonds or something.
“You are the best!” she says happily grabbing the bag from him and ripping it open in seconds.
The other women nod in agreement. “It’s like Kid can read our minds or something. He is always there when we need something,” Sophie says.
“How does he always know?” Olivia whispers pretty loudly, and I see Kid fighting back a smile.
“I used to help take care of my grandma and I learned early on to anticipate what she would need when it came to food,” Kid says, and I can tell the subject upsets him.
He came to the club when he was sixteen and now he’s twenty-three. He was the youngest member to be patched in. When he was found digging in the dumpster of the alley by “Hole in the Wall Diner,” Prez took him in.
The women probably don’t know that’s how he came to be a part of the club, but he had ran away from home after his grandmother died. I don’t know the full story myself; just enough to know that’s why he was living on the streets and scrounging for food.
“That’s so sweet,” Olivia says with a smile and Kid blushes. He clears his throat awkwardly and flees the room as fast as he can.
I turn away from the women when they all start talking pregnancy stories, and find my father staring at me standing in the doorway of the room.
I automatically don’t like the look on his face.
He looks like he’s hurting for me; pity. I don’t need it. Doesn’t anyone realize that it doesn’t actually help when people look at you that way? It makes you feel worse.
“Prez,” I say. He tries to smile at me, but I know that it’s forced.
