“Shrapnel.”
“Hawk.” Cut barks.
“What? You don’t think she’s not gonna find out? You don’t think he’s gonna tell her?”
“My baby boy was almost lost to me.” Bianca interrupts as she continues to run her hand over the scar in a soothing motion. “Blown up. In the desert, he was almost lost to me.”
“Sin served in the Marines, straight out of high school.” Hawk explains. “He wanted out of this life. The MC. He grew to hate it.”
“Shut the fuck up, Hawk.”
“He wanted to do more” Hawk ignores Cut’s demand. “Be more. He thought he could do it by serving his country. He tried, but look where that got him. Blown up, with a missing kidney.”
“Fuck me.” Sin groans as he comes to.
“Mijo, are you alright?” Bianca asks as she brushes Sin’s hair from his face again.
“Yeah, Mama.” He stares straight at me when he answers her. “I’m good.”
Cut and Hawk left to head back to the clubhouse once Sin was sitting upright. Bianca was insistent on making her son his favorite meal, so she left for the store. Sin wanted to clear his head, get his bearings and take some time for himself. He walked out back, leaving me alone in a strange house. For thirty minutes, I’ve been listening to the ticking of the clock, hoping he would return before his mom did. I wanted to talk, I wanted to plan, and I needed some type of idea of what I’m going to do.
The banging of the back door, the same one Sin left through, has me feeling a little jumpy. My eyes widen as he enters the room. He’s wearing gym shorts that hang low around his waist and is holding a white towel around his defined shoulders, rubbing water from his hair. He’s either just showered or he’s been sweating. His chest is bare; the colors of his tattoos brightly on display. My eyes glide over his muscles, his pecks smooth and perfect. The pink puckered skin of his largest scar is highlighted by angry purple bruises. His waist tapers down to the well-defined abs and the famous “V” is cut into his body. The sight of him literally makes my mouth water. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Hey.” My voice cracks.
“Hey.”
“How are you feeling?” My eyes glance to the long scar running lengthwise down the side of his abdomen.
“I’m fine.” He rubs the scar. “Did they fill you in?”
“Hawk did, sorta.”
“Sorta, sugar?” He raises his eyebrow.
“So, Matthew, huh? Not Sin?” I change the subject.
“I see you caught that. My mother refuses to use our club names.” He walks closer, sitting on the chair across from me. He’s always keeping his distance. That’s something I've noticed the few times we’ve had some alone time. Getting close, but always leaving enough space between the two of us.
“Club names?”
He pulls the towel from his shoulders and tosses it onto the coffee table separating the two of us. “Yeah, what we call each other. It’s what others around us know us as. My mom doesn’t give into them, though. She never has. It’s her way of reminding us that we’re people, men, before we’re bikers. A way to keep our humanity, I guess.”
“Bikers?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what I thought back there with a room full of guys wearing leather vests and stuff. So you’re like Sons of Anarchy and or something like that?”
He laughs. “I’m not sure any of us are as pretty as Charlie, and I’m sure the life we live isn’t as glamorous as those boys in Charming, but yeah. I guess you can say its close.” He watches my throat as I swallow again.
“But the guys, they never call you Matthew?”
“Technically, I’m only Matthew to my mother. The MC calls me Sin.”
“Why?”
“It’s just the way we do things.”
“Who named you Sin?”
“My father. It was kind of an inside joke,” he chuckled to himself and continues. “Since he always said I was anything but sin. I was the good boy, the one who didn’t get into trouble, the one who never fought. I was nothing like him. Now Cut, see, his name fits him. He's cut from the same cloth as my father. Once he got older, he lost Devin Jr or DJ and went with Cut. He's my father’s son.”
“I have to agree with your father. I can see how you could never live up to a name like Sin, how you’re a good guy.”
“Sugar, you don’t know anything about me. There’s more sin in this body than there is savior, trust me.”
“The scars on your body say differently.”
“These scars are from a long time ago, a different time. I was a different person.” I want to know why he thinks he’s a different person, but I don’t want to push. “Are you gonna go back? To him?”
Bringing my gaze to him, I shake my head, giving him an answer I'm not ready to voice. His soft blue eyes rake over my face. I know he’s looking at the bruising, the swelling of my eye, and the crack in my lip. There isn’t any judgment, only concern. In four years, there has only been one person who had known enough to be concerned and that was Jenni. That’s also the reason why she was no longer in my life. Tyson didn’t like her blunt comments when it came to my relationship with him. She never guarded her feelings. She never thought to use a filter around him, and that’s the reason why he gave me an ultimatum, it was either him or her and I chose wrong.
My best friend since childhood and I pushed her out of my life. I turned on her. I became nasty to her. I was constantly defending my relationship and throwing it in her faces how she was lonely, how she was jealous of Tyson and my relationship. I pushed and pushed until she was no longer there. I was with Tyson for less than a year when I lost her. She was the first of many friends that I had lost through my relationship with him. My life became strictly him. My only reprieve was school. I'm sure if I hadn’t had that, then I would have lost who I was completely.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Haven’t you already been asking me somethings?” He smiles making my stomach flip. “What happened to your sister?” His smile falls as he clenches his eyes closed. It’s clear I've touched on a painful subject “I’m only asking because your mom says that I can stay in her room. I feel like I’m intruding. I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted.”
“My mother is putting you where she wants you, Savannah. Don’t feel like you’re intruding; take it more like a compliment and a sign.”
“A sign?”
“Yeah, that she's finally healing.” He nods once before leaving me alone.
Still not answering my question.
The banging of the cupboard doors wakes me from my nap. Once Sin left, I must have dozed off. I walk into the kitchen and watch Bianca float around the room. “Oh, mija, I didn’t mean to wake you. I was trying to be quiet.”
“It’s okay. I must have dozed off.”
“I thought I would have seen my Matthew when I returned. I didn’t think he'd leave you all alone.”
I pull out a stool from the kitchen island and sit down. “He left, then he came back but I think I may have pushed him a little, so he left again. I asked him about Sienna.”
“Oh.” She continues to move around the kitchen, taking food from the grocery bags and placing them where they need to go. “You can’t take offense to that, Savannah. My Sienna and Matthew were very close, not just in age, but they were close personally, spiritually. When I lost my baby, I lost a lot of Matthew. Since her death, he has merely existed, but he has not lived.”
“I can’t imagine.” And I can’t. I don’t have siblings, but I can’t imagine losing one of my parents. Having someone there with you, every day of your life, in some capacity and then to not having them exist anymore. I can’t fathom it.
“My Matthew has always been a good boy. I’ve never had to worry about him. He and Devin are like day and night. One light and one dark. One calm and one rowdy. I always felt like God did me a favor when he blessed me with Matthew. It's as if he was apologizing for the hard times I had with Devin. From the mo
ment, that boy was born, he has been hard work. Even now as a man, nothing is ever easy when it comes to him. My husband used to tell me to let him be. To let his spirit be who it wants to be, never to cage him up, hold him back or it would just be worse off. I always tried to be open-minded when it came to Devin. I’ve tried to understand and love him no matter what, but he has never made it easy.”
She shakes her head at the memory, pulling out a large pot filling it with water. “When Sienna was born, Matthew was right there. He never left her side. It was amazing how at the age of only one he knew to watch out for his sister. He started walking before she was born, like he was preparing for her arrival. He made sure she didn’t fuss. He was just a baby himself, but he would be right by her, patting her chest when she fussed. He always tried to sooth her. As she got older, she was just as enamored with him as he was with her. Like they were each other’s other halves. They calmed each other, they depended on each other.”
“Was Sienna the peacemaker?”
She stops to think. “No, Devin was just in pre-school when she was born. One of the older member’s wife, or old lady as they call them, ran a daycare so she took Devin in to help me. I was young when I had my children. Still a child myself really, so all the help I received helped a great deal. He paid no attention to her really. If he wasn’t at daycare then he was by his father’s side. He spent more time with his father once she came, and I think he liked that. He liked not having to help, and I never asked him to. Matthew was there for that.”
“So he’s always been the caring type? He’s always felt the need to care for others?”
“Yes, I guess so. But it was only with Sienna really. There were other kids around when he was growing up and he didn’t pay much attention to them, well other than Hawking and Keith, but that’s because those boys were here more than they weren’t. Their mothers left the club, leaving those poor boys behind. I was all they had.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, the club was more intense back in those days. It’s much different now. It's changed, mostly for the good. I don’t worry as much as I did when the boys were young. I knew though the next generation was going to be different. I knew the club would change in time. But those plans, the future of the club never included my Matthew, and I was okay with that.”
“Why didn’t you think Sin was part of the future?”
“It’s like what Hawking had said, he wanted more. He chose a different path. A path I was thankful for.”
“You didn’t want Sin to be a part of this life?” She shakes her head at my question.
“When Matthew left and joined the military, I was so happy. Devin, my husband knew it was something that his son needed to do. Devin Jr., well, he thought Matthew was turning his back on the life my husband had planned for the boys. The club wasn’t something my husband started for his sons. He started the club for him and his friends. There were never any preemptions that they would continue on with it.”
“How did Sienna feel about Sin leaving?”
“Aye, mija, my Sienna cried. I think that was their one and only fight. The day he told us he'd enlisted was bittersweet. I knew my son was starting a life that would be his, but Sienna, she felt betrayed. She felt that he needed to stay, for us, the family and the club, but mostly for her. My daughter had a heart of gold, but she was selfish in many ways and didn’t want Matthew living a life that didn’t include her in the day to day.”
She pulls the chicken from its package and places it in the seasoned water.
“Did they get over their differences? Did she forgive him?”
“She was truly hurt when he left. But, like the loyal sister she was, she supported him. She stood at his graduation with tears of pride in her eyes. That was her big brother and she understood that he was doing what needed to be done.”
I listen to her tell the story of Matthew’s time in the military. Of how Sienna supported her brother, wrote to him every chance she had. She told me of the pain and terror that ripped her daughter apart the moment they got the call that he'd been injured. “The screams that tore through Sienna, it would have crippled anyone. She was hysterical. Devin had to call the club doctor to give her a sedative to help her.”
“Oh, my gosh, that’s so horrible.”
“We didn’t know the complexity of his injuries, only that he'd been medivacked out of the war zone and taken to Germany. There was so much pain in her eyes, she was a ghost of a person knowing that he was hurt and she couldn’t see him. She was so afraid that he would die without him hearing how much she loved him. That she was proud of him and she was sorry for giving him so much grief when he left.”
“Did she get to tell him?” I'm not sure when or how Sienna had passed.
“Yes, when he came home. It took him weeks before he was back in the states, months until he was home. But the first thing she did when she saw him was tell him she loved him. She never left his side, the entire time he was in the hospital. She refused to go to school. Her professors agreed to let her finish the semester on her own. Doing the assigned work, and turning everything in weekly to keep up.” She smiles at the thought. “The roles were reversed. When she was born, he was there, he wouldn’t leave her. Then, when he needed her, she was there, she wouldn’t leave him.”
The tears begin to fall from her eyes. I can’t help but feel the pain she’s going through reliving that time in her life. She wipes the tears away and turns her back to me. Stirring the chicken, that’s now boiling, she continues her story.
“The club is a dangerous thing. It isn’t just about the love of the motorcycle, or the feeling of brotherhood. I know that’s what Devin Sr. was trying to accomplish, but it couldn’t be that way. Not when others are involved and try to take things that aren’t theirs to have.” She turns back to me. “My husband, Devin, he thought he was strong enough to handle the club. DJ, he feels the same. But sometimes, things become too evil, people become too evil and this thing you thought you could handle takes on a life of its own. My Sienna’s death was the collateral damage of that evil.” I gasp at her words. The realization hits me that Sienna didn’t just die. She was murdered.
“How did she die, Bianca? If you don’t mind me asking?”
“My Sienna was taken from me, from her family. She was strung up, raped, beaten and bled to death before her father could get to her. He was killed trying to bring my baby home. I lost half my family in one day, and Matthew, he lost his light.”
The popping of gunfire is all around me, but I can’t see anything. I can feel the whizzing of bullets next to my ear, hammering into metal in the not so far distance. Men are screaming, bullets ripping through flesh, shattering limbs, blowing off heads. Grown men cry out for their loved ones, the words; ‘please make it stop’ and ‘please Lord save me’ swirls around in my head. I crawl away from the screams, away from the destruction, away from the death. Away from it all.
I am standing still in the dark, but the screams are gone. There’s nothing but silence, silence and dark. I blink my eyes, trying to focus and see, but it’s no use. I’m blind. I inch forward, hands out in front, trying to find something, anything. I wave my hands until I feel warm, soft flesh. Feeling around, I realize it's a leg. I hear a soft whimper as I my way up. Soft but firm flesh, legs wet, sticky. I move my hands further up, past soaked, shredded bottoms. They’re soft, maybe cotton.
"Matthew." My name is muffled, but I can make it out. Even muffled, I know that voice; deep in my bones, I know it's my sister, Sienna. Before I can react or touch her again, there's a whoosh of air, and I hear her yelp in surprise. Then she’s gone. My hands reach out, trying to grab her, trying to stop her from leaving, but I only grasp air. She’s no longer there.
Bright lights illuminate the room. I jerk my hands to cover my face, allowing my eyes to adjust. Blinking, I look up and there she is, my sister. Hanging from the steel beams of the building, arms tied above her head, blood running down her arms. The shorts, her favorite sleep shorts
are hanging in threads around her waist. Once a pale pink, they’re now smeared with crimson red. Her left leg is bent at an odd angle; I can see it’s broken. Twisted beyond repair. Red and purple gashes, angry welts, cover what was once smooth, tanned skin. She bobs her head, trying to be strong, trying to focus on me. She’s gags, a blood stained rag covering her mouth, tied tight around her head. Her dark brown hair, the same as mine is matted and soaked in blood. I take a step forward only to have her yanked away from me again. She screeches in pain, the bindings cutting into her skin.
She shakes her head, pleading with me not to take another step, begging me with her eyes to save her, but not to take another step. How, how can I save you? Blood streams down her legs, a clear sign of violation. My insides twist, anger boils within my veins. Vengeance is the only word on my mind. Payback. Retribution. Death. I will kill whoever hurt her. I will make them suffer.
Her eyes focus over my head. Fear present in her stare. She whimpers, her body shakes, tears fall from her eyes. They streak the blood, and run down her swollen cheeks. I try to look, to see what she sees, but I can’t. My focus is locked on her face, on her fear. Her eyes widen, I hear it, the discharging of gunfire, and the whistling of bullets.
The death of my sister.
I bolt from sleep. Heart racing, sweat covering my skin. The same dream, repeatedly, for years, it’s the same dream. I feel movement to my right, the moonlight barely making my room visible. But I don’t need light to know that she’s in my bed. Kara, the one who fills my nights on occasion, who occupies my bed, but who will never have my heart. She knows the drill; she’s a Fallen, nothing more and nothing less. I nudge her, her fake bare breasts barely moving by the action. I nudge her again, hard.
“Get up.” I order her. “Get the fuck outta my bed.” She whimpers in disapproval, trying to snuggle up to me. “I said get your fucking skank ass out of my bed!” She sits up, looking over at me. Without a word, she scoots her way to the edge of my bed, throwing her legs over the side. I roll over, taking the sheet with me, and try to go back to sleep.
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