by Mallory Funk
“How you doing, son?” he says in a low voice. His voice always brought me comfort growing up. He was this big protector of our family. There were enemies of the club who tried to come after us, but he was always there to save us.
When I had went through my teen years, he had been there to give me the kick in the ass I needed when I thought that I was nothing but a cocky shit who thought he was tough.
I thought that being the son of the president of the Vicious Snakes was the best thing ever, and that I would automatically be patched into the club and no one could hurt me.
Fuck, was I wrong.
I prospected the club and had to prove myself like everybody else.
The worst of it came when I talked back to my mom thinking that I was all that. My father was a great dad, there is no doubt about that, but no one messes with Lily Knight and gets away with it.
My mom had found me with a girl in my room while my dad was at Church. I said some nasty things to her that I still wish I hadn’t.
I made my fucking mother cry. Damn, if that wasn’t the shittiest feeling I had felt.
My dad came home and my mom was in their room and, as soon as he opened the door and heard her sniffles, I fucking froze.
I was standing at the end of the hallway and my father turned his head. If looks could fucking kill. I knew I had guilt written all over me. He only muttered the word “stay,” but I heard it as clear as fucking day.
I had to do the shittiest chores in the house until my dad was satisfied. I was to clean the house until it was spotless, and then the clubhouse. Once that was all done, I had to publicly apologize to my mom and admit that I was a momma’s boy. I had a brother on me whenever my parents weren’t around and, trust me, my dad did everything he could to put a damper of my so-called sex life. I think it was a year before a girl would come near me because of the embarrassing conversations he would randomly come up with in front of them.
All of that was fine. It was the hurt look on my mother’s face that still never left me to this day.
“What do you think?” I mutter. There is no point in trying to lie to him.
He nods his head slowly. “I understand that today will be a tough day, but it will do you some good to be with family.”
I nod my head, but I don’t know if I really agree. What I want is a stiff drink and to spend this whole day numb.
As soon as that thought crosses my head, I walk over to the bar and single the prospect for a shot.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” my dad asks.
“Are you going to stop me?” I ask and raise an eyebrow at him.
He blows out a slow breath. “No. But you can’t keep hiding from this. That’s not going to help and I know you know that, son.”
“I just need to today. I feel like I can barely breathe,” I say lowly and I hear a deep sigh.
“Alright son. This ain’t going to last forever. Step out of line once,” he says sternly.
I nod my head in acknowledgement.
“Alright, make sure you get something to eat. Cook made a ton of food,” he says as he slaps me on the back and heads out of the room.
I don’t know how long I sit there, but the numb feeling takes over me and I feel the tension leave my shoulders.
I don’t listen to the voices around me. I’m barely even aware when my father and a few brothers and Old Ladies speak about what a great woman Stacey was.
Every time I feel like my heart is cracking, I take another shot.
Ella tells stories that she had with Stacey. My dad said that she was a daughter to him, and brothers comment on how a she had always found a way to make them laugh.
I don’t notice that tears are falling down my face until my mom comes to wipe them.
I turn my head when I realize what she’s doing.
“Don’t,” I mutter lowly.
“Oh sweetie. It’s okay. I know you are hurting and I wish I could take this pain away,” she says in a voice filled with pain.
“You don’t know,” I reply coldly.
“I know that sweetheart, but I understand,” she says as I meet her eyes.
“No, you don’t understand. You can’t understand. Dad’s right here. You have the love of your life and you get to wake up every day knowing that they are there. I get to wake up every day living the worst nightmare that I can’t ever seem to escape. She’s gone and she’s not coming back. I had to stand there and watch the building go up in flames as my woman died chained to a fucking wall. Don’t tell me you fucking understand. No one does,” I say harshly, and maybe too harshly, but I can’t seem to think straight and the words won’t stop pouring out.
“That’s enough, son,” my dad says in a cold tone.
He walks up behind my mom and wraps her in his arms.
“I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anyone’s pity,” I say as I grab a random bottle and head to my room at the club. There is no way I can drive right now.
I slam the door to my room shut and I’m thankful that no one follows me. I’m glad I have a stereo in here. I turn the music up loud as I place the bottle to my lips.
Fuck this day.
Chapter Ten
Camilla
I spend the day trying to find things to keep myself busy. I knew that it was an important day for the Vicious Snakes since Ella had told me that it had been a year since Stacey was killed.
I didn’t want to be a bother to anyone, so I didn’t message anyone and, as much as I wanted to send Tyson a silly picture, I knew that I shouldn’t. He wouldn’t have appreciated it today.
I had thought a lot about what my friends had said when they were here, and I knew that I needed to find something to do. I needed to do more than sit at home.
My mom had brought me a bunch of school brochures, and papers full of places that were hiring. I knew that I needed to find a hobby or job.
We were taking more and more trips outside because I wanted to get used to being around people again. I feel like each time has become easier.
I still don’t think that I’m fully ready for a job, but maybe I could find some sort of online learning or a class that I could go to a couple times a week.
I had looked through everything and tried to think about what interested me. I wasn’t the same woman I was before I was taken.
I looked into writing classes. I wanted to do something that would help me. Since being back, I have written a lot. I have so many filled out notebooks in my room from writing out so many memories and emotions. I find that writing it all down was a way to release the poison from my body and mind.
It was a habit that I learned to pick up.
I told my mom that I wanted to join a class to improve my writing and thought about writing a book.
Writing was something that always interested me, but the idea scared me. At this point, however, I feel like I have nothing to lose.
My whole day is spent writing down ideas of what I would like to write about and plot stories that interest me.
I really only leave my room to have supper and get back to plotting. I’m more interested than I thought I would be.
I have everything set by the time I go to bed and I check my phone to make sure that I don’t have anything missed from my friends even though I know that they had a busy day.
I just see a message from Krista telling me that Torch had blew up at his mom and is now getting drunk in his room. When I see unread messages from him, I ponder as to whether I should open them or not.
If he’s drunk right now then what he has to say can’t be that good. Especially if he was angry enough to snap at his mom.
Curiosity gets the better of me and I start reading them.
Tyson: I snapped at my mom and I’m sitting in my room at the club trying to drink away at the pain that’s crushing at my chest. Why can’t I move on? You probably don’t want to hear this depressing talk from me, but I just don’t know how to move forward anymore.
Tyson: I miss her s
o fucking much.
Tyson: I wasn’t sure if I believed in love until she came along.
Tyson: She fought me every step of the way and I loved breaking down her walls.
Tyson: She would kick my ass if she had seen me like this.
Tyson: When I look at you the pain goes away.
Tyson: I can’t handle the guilt that stirs up in me when you are the only one that makes the pain go away.
Tyson: I still expect her to walk through the door every minute of the day.
Tyson: I feel like I can’t breathe.
I set my phone down and I can feel the tears streaming down my face.
Tyson is in a constant loop of pain that he can’t seem to break free from.
I don’t even think about what I do next. I put on a hoodie over my shirt, and leggings on. I grab my mom’s keys, and drive to the clubhouse.
It’s not until I’m halfway there that I realize what I am doing.
Because of Tyson, I left the house to check on him and not once did I shake with nerves that I was out by myself.
The clubhouse is full of people. You would think that since it is well past midnight that it wouldn’t be, but I guess they partied hard after Stacey’s memorial.
I climb out of the car and still no nerves show. I know that it’s because I trust these men (after all, they saved me) that I’m not scared of them. I know that not a single one of them would hurt me.
Walking into the clubhouse, I nod at a couple brothers and they don’t bother to hide their looks of surprise.
When I see Derek and Lily, they automatically come up to me with concern on their faces.
“Camilla, what’s going on? Is everything alright?” Lily says.
“No… Ugh, well I guess… I just got a bunch of texts from Ty-Torch and I wanted to check on him,” I say, and they both look shocked.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s not in a good place right now,” Derek says.
I nod my head in understanding.
“I know he’s not. Trust me. These weren’t happy texts, but I can’t sit by and be silent while he’s breaking apart. For whatever reason, we are connected and I just need to make sure that he’s okay. I know this is a hard day for him. I promise that I won’t be long.”
Derek reluctantly nods his head. I can tell that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea. It probably isn’t, but I need to see for myself that he’s okay.
He shows me to which room is Tyson’s and doesn’t follow me in. I’m very thankful for that because if this doesn’t go down smoothly then I won’t have anyone to witness my humiliation.
I knock on the door pretty hard since the music is playing so loudly. I don’t hear anything, so I decide to try the doorknob.
“Tyson,” I say softly as I slowly open the door. He’s lying on his bed with a bottle clutched to one hand. I can’t help but feel an ache in my chest at the sight.
I’ve seen types like him before. He’s broken. That much is obvious.
My uncle was the same way after my auntie had died. He ended up drinking himself to death to escape the pain.
Countless times, I had found my mom and dad cleaning up his mess.
One sentence he muttered I can still hear to this day.
Don’t ever fall in love.
I didn’t take his words to heart because he was clearly a heartbroken man.
It was still something that popped into my head whenever I felt myself getting too close to a guy.
I walk over and grab his phone to turn down the music.
He sits up, but he sways and tries to stop himself by putting his hands in the air.
“W-what?” he says looking at me in confusion.
“I got your texts,” I say lamely.
He narrows his eyes slightly at me and I can tell that they are completely bloodshot.
“And you thought that was an invitation to come here and what? Take care of the poor drunk guy?” he says with a sneer that has me backing up a step.
“N-no, I just thought you could use a friend,” I say, instantly regretting coming here.
He lets out an ugly sound that sounds like a scoff, but he’s too drunk to make it right.
“I told you that I didn’t want to be friends. The texts were obviously a drunken mistake. Everything is a mistake,” he says in a cold tone.
“What are you trying to say?” I say as I feel tears welling in my eyes.
He stumbles to standing and keeps his glare on me.
“I can’t be your knight in fucking shining armour. I can hardly be an uncle or brother. Do I look like I want to deal with some woman’s problems on top of my own?”
The words hurt and some tears fall no matter how hard I try to keep them back.
I angrily wipe them away.
I know that alcohol can do some ugly things to people, but his hate has never been directed at me before.
“Fine. This is the last time you will have to see me. You want to drown in your own self-pity, be my guest. But I’m not going to stand here and watch as you ruin every relationship that means something to you,” I say as I walk toward the door and open it.
“Goodbye Torch,” I whisper harshly as I run from his room and the tears fall harder.
I hear my name being called, but I don’t risk looking at anyone.
I’m practically sobbing as I run for the car. I feel a hand on my shoulder and jump.
“Sorry. It’s just me, Crash. Let me take you home. You shouldn’t be driving in this condition,” he says as he gestures for me to give him my keys.
I eye him skeptically.
When I don’t say anything, he lets out a sigh. “Let’s just say that I will never let someone drive while they are this upset ever again. Okay? Look, I have Kid back there and he’s going to follow us so that I have a ride back,” he says gesturing over his shoulder.
Slowly I nod since I don’t think that I would be able to talk at the moment. He’s right. I shouldn’t drive when I’m close to sobbing and my body is shaking.
I hand him the keys and get in the passenger side.
I glance at the clubhouse as we pull away with a deep sadness as I lost a friend that I guess I never really had.
It was stupid to come here.
Then again, I have never been smart when it comes to making decisions.
Tyson “Torch”
I wake up with a pounding headache.
That’s nothing new.
I can barely remember the night before. I look around my room and it’s a complete mess. It looks like I went on a rampage and destroyed it last night.
What the fuck happened?
I let out a groan.
Fuck.
My door is thrown open and I immediately sit up, which only makes the pounding worse.
I look up and am about to ask what the fuck they think they are doing barging in.
When I stop cold.
My father walks in with a deadly glare on his face. Oh fuck, what did I do?
“You can’t remember, can you?” he says with a look of disgust.
“Remember what?” I ask, already knowing that this won’t be good.
“I don’t know where the fuck my son went, but the man you were last night, and the man staring back at me now with bloody hands and reeking of whisky, is not my son. This can’t go on much longer. If we were attacked right now, you would be fucking useless,” he says. I drop my head because I know that he’s right.
“Fuck, what do you want me to do? What did I do last night?” I ask.
His glare gets colder. “All I’m going to tell you is that you owe your mother a fucking apology.” Fuck, if I wasn’t his son, I would be dead and I know it.
I start to nod my head when he opens his mouth again. “And Camilla.”
Shit. This is bad.
I nod my head. “Okay.”
“Once you are up, I want you to get out. I can’t have this type of destructive behaviour in my club. There’s a difference between partyin
g and being a drunk. You are well passed that line, and I can’t risk enemies coming to our door and have you shoot the wrong person because your drunk ass can’t handle a gun,” he says. I inhale sharply.
“Got it.”
