Arrivin’ at the hospital, trauma nurses rushed outside. Openin’ the back doors, they pulled her gurney safely out, until the legs sprang free. I was zonin’, my eyes and finger focused solely on the unconscious beauty, that I barely heard a thing they said.
“Tell me what happened,” a nurse asked John as he held the lassie’s IV bag over her body and rushed through the ambulance bay doors.
The blast of cool air, and strong scent of disinfectant, was enough tae tug me from my preoccupation tae quickly get us through the O.R. doors. Inside, the nurses cut the lassie’s clothes off, and I averted my eyes. I couldn’t bear tae watch as cold sweat dripped down my cheeks and I began to shiver from my adrenaline wearin’ off.
Once she was draped, and stable enough tae slide her onto the O.R table, I was instructed tae remove my finger. Instruments flew, doctors and nurses worked fast, and I was forced into the waitin’ room, where a nurse handed me a set of clean scrubs tae change into and a plastic bag. In the visitors’ bathroom, I washed the grime off and changed into the clothes. Splashin’ one last handful of water over my face, I dried off with paper towels and tossed them into the trash as I exited the bathroom with my bloodied apparel in the bag.
In the waitin’ room, I sat my arse in a chair for hours, waitin’ tae hear anythin’ aboot the lass’s condition. Eventually, I texted Pip tae tell her where I was, and she joined me at the hospital.
Six hours later, while pacin’ the halls, drinkin’ my fifth cup of joe, a doctor came tae inform us she was in the ICU in a coma. For some reason, the bottom suddenly felt like it had fallen outta my world, and I dropped into the nearest chair. The loss, the worry, the fear, and this deep, intense ache. . .it was bloody fuckin’ instant and all-consumin’. It hurt tae breathe. Tae talk. Tae do anythin’ except think aboot my hands coated in her blood, the gentle lines of her face, the color of her hair, and how juicy her bottom lip was.
I cannae remember much after that, but sometime later, Pip convinced me tae go home. I was a zombie, but I went anyhow. It was torture, and felt like my insides were bein’ ripped from my body when I walked outta those hospital doors and into the early mornin’ sunrise.
Three hours of restless sleep, followed by a quick shower, and I was back at the hospital, patiently awaitin’ the day I got tae see the lassie’s eyes for the very first time.
Thor’s disgusted noise tears me from my memories. My memories of the very first moment I met Mags, and how it changed me forever. They always say there’s that one person that ye help that never leaves ye, and I thought it was a bloody myth until that day.
Gradually, I open my eyes, and he hasn’t moved. Watchin’ Thor stand there like he’s the fuckin’ king of the world while his hands continue their ministrations, my abhorrence triples, and my stomach turns over, as a foul taste bathes my tongue in acrid revulsion. What a sick bastard.
I take a powerful step forward, and his smugness grows, his eyes dancin’ with malevolence. I’ll show him the difference between a man and a boy. Real men take their lassies tae bed; not parade them around like ripe whores for the pluckin’.
Lost in ecstasy, Carrie’s eyes roll back in her skull as her body undulates against Thor’s. Her lips part, pantin’ for air, and she moans.
“That’s it, baby.” Thor edges her near completion.
My booted feet, on their own volition, take me one step closer. “Ye can do what ye want tae whoever else, but ye will stay away from Mags,” I demand.
The corner of Thor’s lip tips into a sly smile. “We’ll see, Smoke.” He’s bloody amused. “I know she digs me. And one of these days, I’ll prove to her what kinda man I am. Imagine all the dirty fuckin’ things I can show her sweet little body as it’s spread under me, screamin’—”
A streak of red-hot lightnin’ surges through me, stealin’ all logic. One second I’m glarin’, and the next I’m forcefully yankin’ Carrie’s half-naked body behind me. A roar tears from my lips, and I lurch forward, my forehead slammin’ into Thor’s. The crack is deafenin’, rattlin’ in my skull. The pain is nonexistent.
Thor yelps, staggerin’ backward, holdin’ his forehead. His face is beet red.
Unable tae stop, I advance on him. Shock, then fear flashes in his eyes. I dinnae care. The world around me fades into oblivion as molten rage fuels my every muscle. My thighs tighten and abs ripple in contraction.
Grabbin’ the back of Thor’s neck, I squeeze until he submits and tries tae slap it away.
Na, na, na, wee lad.
Next, my boot connects with the back of his knee, forcin’ him tae the ground. He stumbles, catchin’ himself with his hands, but I quickly jerk him back onto his knees.
Curlin’ my other hand around his throat, I release the back of his neck and meet his eyes. They’re wide with shock. “Ye dinnae talk yer childish bullshit tae me. And ye certainly dinnae threaten my fuckin’ family.”
Reachin’ tae my side, I unsheathe my Clan MacAlister dagger and bring it tae his throat. He swallows hard as I press the tip tae his flesh until it draws blood. Tears well in his eyes and the fresh scent of piss stings my nose, but he doesn’t move. “Men dinnae talk; they do. And ye fuck with my lassie, my face will be the last bloody thing ye ever see. We clear?” I growl lowly.
Thor barely nods, which is good enough for me. I release him with a mighty shove and sheathe my dagger. He topples tae the ground, clutchin’ his neck, watchin’ me with fear in his eyes. Aye, he best be scared. Next time, I’ll cut his wee balls off. I’m done with childish arseholes; and I’m even more fuckin’ tired of sittin’ here at this party, where I dinnae even wanna be.
Turnin’ on my heel, I stride across the yard over tae my bike, and kick my leg over to straddle it. Turnin’ the key, I tuck my kilt between my legs tae keep the air off my balls, and I fire the engine. Flickin’ on my headlights, I heel up my kickstand, rev the engine a couple times, and tear outta my sister’s driveway, kickin’ up rocks as I speed tae the main road.
Fuck that bloody bastard. I need tae get home, and I need tae see Mags, I miss her already.
My blood runs red; within it lies agony, defeat, guilt, humiliation, and this soul gripping torment that I know all too well. It rises from time to time when my self-pity rears its big ugly head.
Everywhere hurts. Everything seems to crumble around me. Why did I do this? Why did I allow myself to come here? I knew it was wrong. I felt it. Nobody truly cares that much for someone they don’t even know. There’s always a shoe to be dropped. And I’m lying in it now; writhing in pain on the white tiled floor in the kitchen. Paralyzed and unable to move, call for help, or do anything but wallow; falling deeper into sadness and this black despair I’ve come accustom to.
Crying and bleeding, I lie here in wait. I don’t know how long it’s been, but it’s dark outside now. The light over the sink is on, allowing me to see. Pirate hasn’t left my side as I shiver from the cold tile. He vibrates, too, scared. His tongue pokes out from time to time, lapping the cut on my head; keeping the blood from trickling down my face. The rest has dried under my cheek, on my fingers, forearms, and in my hair.
Seconds, minutes, perhaps hours ago, the bleeding subsided from the gash on my forehead and busted lip. The intense pain in my gut and ribs could mean something else entirely, but I can barely move to find out. Why didn’t I fight harder?
The taunting sound of motorcycle pipes roaring outside brings me the faintest hope. I’ve imagined them for hours. Though, once again, they could be another hallucination. They’ve all been that way before.
Pirate curls closer, his head tucking into the crook of my sore neck. I wish I could tell him it’ll all be okay, so he’ll stop shaking. Even if I don’t believe that myself; I don’t know what to think anymore. When does life grant you some sort of reprieve from all of the world's crap? When do I catch my break? Can you tell me? God, I’d really love to know.
The sound of boots stomping outside draws my attention. The door glides open, and the relief is so
immediate that I begin to weep. Tears spill over, and my bottom lip trembles, muting the constant sting. A light is clicked on and a sharp gasp expels. Then, a growl so dark and grizzly it makes my insides quiver. Boots pound across the tile as they run to me.
“What the bloody fuck?” Lachlan explodes, and I flinch at the intensity of his words echoing off the walls.
Stepping over my prone body, he kneels at my front. I can barely see him through my teeming tears as I suck in a shuddering breath. I hear him move, and something slap the floor before a piece of soft cloth dabs the tears from my cheeks and eyes. It smells just like him, mixed with the smoky scent of bonfire, and wind. It’s perfect. Inhaling deeper, there’s a hint of women’s perfume lingering in the cloth that makes my insides recoil. I try to turn away.
Is that her perfume? Did she go to him after she did this to me? Did she pretend nothing happened? Did he—
I choke another sob.
How could she do that? How?! His shirt. . .it smells like a woman. Like her.
Hours ago, I was downstairs in the bathroom. Once I exited, I found Meredith in my bedroom rifling through my belongings on the dresser. We were both caught off guard, gasping, as our eyes met. She was not at all like I pictured in my mind. She was tall, at least five foot ten, and slender, like a runway model. And she had long, straight, jet-black hair that was smooth as it draped down her slender back. Her shrewd eyes staring at me were crystal blue. She was gorgeous. Which served as a double punch to the gut; knowing she’s not only the one who warms Lachlan’s bed at night, but was the same disrespectful woman tearing through my stuff.
Taking a long look at me seated in my wheelchair, she stuck her nose up, repulsion written across her face. “What the hell is your fat ass doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Lachlan at the club thing?” she curled her lip at me.
Taking a clicking step forward on her jade green stilettos, she closed the gap between us. There was no denying that she looked glamorous, like she’d just returned from the red carpet in her jade green, strapless dress that hugged her body as if it was made for it. Diamonds sparkled from everywhere—her wrists, ears, and fingers. The thick, diamond-encrusted choker that hugged her slim neck made me jealous. Even though I was disgusted with myself for feeling that way, I felt it nonetheless.
I kept my face impassive at her insult, since I couldn’t sling them back. But I could retain my composure and pretend her words didn’t offend me. Although they did; and they cut deep.
“Are you gonna answer me, bitch?” She cocked her hip out.
I had plenty that I wanted to impart, but couldn’t. It killed me to keep my cool, but what other choice did I have?
She wasn’t finished. “Lachlan didn’t want his flavor of the month to go?”
Flavor of the. . .what? Did Lachlan do this often? We didn’t do anything together that was inappropriate, but had he engaged in that before?
“You’re fatter than the last one.” Meredith fake laughed, grinning like the devil. “Though, I gotta say your hair’s much prettier. The last bitch had a shorter somethin’ or other.” She flicked her hand out like it was of no consequence to her.
Unable to listen to another word about Lachlan’s referred cheating exploits, I wheeled myself backward to get away from her. Meredith moved forward and grabbed the handles of my wheelchair, stopping me. Then she got in my face, bathing it in her rancid breath. I tried not to gag.
“You tell Lachlan that you want to leave here and never see him again, or I’ll sic Whisky on you and you’ll be dead by the end of the week,” she sneered.
I may have not been sure about Lachlan’s past, but I wasn’t scared of her poorly executed threat. Whisky wouldn’t touch me. To get the point across that the bitchy Barbie failed to frighten me, I straightened my back and held my head high, treating her like she did me—trash. This futile effort was awarded with a stinging slap across my face. Tears sprung to my eyes, and I bit my cheek. Blood bathed my mouth as she bent over, cackling with pride.
Reacting on impulse, I swung on her, connecting with her face with the casted heel of my hand. Curses were slung as she palmed her blazing cheek. It was my time to laugh, even if I couldn’t speak. I opened my mouth and shook with mock laughter, holding my belly for effect. Served her right for touching me.
The silent laughter died on my lips when she stood up straight and advanced on me, eyes wild. Seizing my chair, she forced me toward the kitchen, pushing it fast as if she was going to wheel me out the door. Struggling, I put my feet down to stop her, but it didn’t work. I ended up catapulting myself from my chair, and the chair kept going as she shoved it from behind. I flew forward, barely able to use my hands to brace my fall. The impact was severe, my arms collapsed under me and my forehead ricocheted off the tile. I blacked out for a moment, and my lip burst open as my forehead trickled with warm blood.
When I came to, Meredith was on me, yanking my hair, hands slapping me, feet kicking me in the gut, ribs, and back. Crazed with fury, she screamed in repetition, “You stupid fat bitch! You stupid, stupid fat bitch! Why’d you have to come here, huh?!”
My attempt to fight back was minuscule when I could barely move. I went on the offensive, putting my hands up to shield myself from her never-ending blows. I don’t know how long it lasted—minutes, hours, I couldn’t guess. Eventually, her breathing became labored as she wore herself out, and the screaming died on her lips. My eyes matted with tears, as my own body struggled to breathe, while she continually knocked me around with haphazard strikes.
Wrenching my head back by my hair, I suffered in silent pain as she knelt over me, her breath raggedly wafting over my face. “You leave here, you stupid fat bitch, or I’ll kill you myself.” She spat on my forehead and eyes, smacked my cheek for good measure, and then released me.
Swiftly, her heels clicked away as she ambled up the stairs to the main floor, slamming the door in her wake. I sighed with relief, heavily consumed by agony, as I prayed to God for unconsciousness to take me. It never did. For hours, Pirate lay curled next to my head, whining in my stead, siphoning some of my grief into himself, sharing in my heartache. For the first time in my life, I had someone there to go through it with me. Not through it for me, but to somehow understand enough, to care enough, to feel the pain alongside me, even for a little while.
Thick fingers comb through my matted hair, peeling it off my face. “What happened tae ye?” Lachlan whispers tenderly.
Arching my sore back, I groan. I want to tell him about his wife. I want to ask him if that’s her perfume on his shirt. I want to say so much, but can’t.
His thumbs massage my cheeks with care, and slide up to roll over my brows. “My leannan, who did this tae ye? Did ye fall? Look at me.” He is being so sweet and gentle; it tugs at my heartstrings and I swallow hard. Taking a deep breath, I twist my eyes to look at him. His face is softly immersed with concern, his broad chest bare, and he’s still wearing his red and green kilt. He wets his bottom lip with the sweep of his tongue. “Aye, there’s my lassie.” His finger runs along my jaw to my chin and back up to trace around my ear, and stops when he meets Pirate’s lazy head. “Time for ye tae leave her be, lad. I’ve got her now. Ye’ve done a fine job.” He pats Pirates head; I feel it through my neck.
Pirate lifts himself and licks my hair before backing away. Lachlan stretches out beside me. Turning onto his side, facing me with his massive arm tucked under his head, his face slides closer so I can smell the faint scent of beer on his breath. It’s magnificent.
“I dinnae wanna lift ye until I know if ye broke anythin’. Can ye blink twice for Ay—yes, and blink once for na?” He scoots a bit closer. Close enough that I can feel the heat emanating from his body. Still shivering from cold, I welcome it.
Rubbing his rough palm along my arm to my hip, he awaits my reply.
I blink twice.
“Aye. Thank ye, Mags,” he says before continuing, “Did ye fall?”
Twice, I blink again.
<
br /> “Was it an accident?”
I blink twice. Of course it wasn’t. Meredith wanted to hurt me on purpose. At the same time, I’m the one who did this to myself by putting my feet down, which was an accident. Could be either.
“Do ye think ye broke anythin’?”
I blink once.
Why is he being so patient with me? He’s worried, I can see that, but it’s like he knows I need him to be calm and strong for me. I don’t want to break down and lose more of myself to circumstance.
His soothing hand running along my body warms me, ceasing the shivering.
“Do ye want me tae call the ambulance?”
I blink once. I don’t want to go anywhere.
He frowns. “Do ye want me tae take ye tae the hospital myself?”
I blink once.
Lachlan grumbles under his breath. “Mags, ye got me worried. Ye need tae be seen. I’m takin’ ye one way or another. Aye?”
I just want to forget this happened. I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to go to bed and sleep away the pain and embarrassment. Is that too much to ask?
I blink once.
His grumble turns into a rumbling growl, and he moves so close that his body is molded to mine, my side to his front. He lifts my arm and lays my palm on his prickly cheek. My heart palpitates, and my throat runs dry. What’s he doing? Lachlan doesn’t stop there. He dips his head, his cheek coming to lie on the bare floor, eyes level with mine, noses almost meeting. “Ye dinnae have tae tell me what happened right now. But. . .” His hot hand lays over mine that’s resting on his cheek. I think I’m dreaming. This can’t actually be happening. I can almost taste him from here. His scent is intoxicating.
“But,” he repeats, “I need tae have ye checked out. I dinnae care if ye want it or not. I need it for myself. Can ye do that for me?”
Beyond Her Words (Corrupt Chaos MC) Page 13
