by Aden Lowe
Over an hour later, Crank came out scowling. "Kellen says get your ass in there."
Fuck. The vote must have gone against me. My heart pounded in my ears as I stood and headed for the big conference room where the Raiders held church. They were going to make me turn in my Prospect patch and get the hell out. An empty future and a barren highway loomed ahead, ready to swallow me alive.
Kellen and all the other Hell Raiders sat around the big table, all just as solemn as Crank. Kellen lifted a hand. "Give me your cut, man."
I clenched my jaw hard to keep from arguing, and shrugged out of it, tossing it over. He caught the leather easily and slid the tip of his knife blade under the edge of the patch. Fuck this shit. I was not going to stand there and watch him strip it and hand it back empty. I turned on my heel and started to stalk from the room.
Badger stepped in front of me as I rounded the table and made for the door. "Not so fast, son. Ain't nobody walkin' out 'til it's done."
I swallowed hard, despite my dry mouth, and turned back to face the room. Every man at the table wore a huge grin. What the fuck?
"Here, Brother. You better hurry up and get one of the girls to sew this shit on for you, before you go stompin' off pissed." Kellen handed my cut to Crank, along with a set of new patches.
The room erupted in a round of cheers and laughter, even though I felt like puking with the relief and excitement. Every man in the room congratulated me, happy to have had a good laugh at my expense. Hell, I didn't mind, either. I was just fucking happy they'd voted to accept me.
The celebration spilled out of the meeting room to the bar, where every single Brother seemed to feel the need to buy me a drink. Getting shit-faced in my first hour as a full member seemed like a dumbass move, so I got the Prospect behind the bar to hold most for later.
"Congrats, Fabio. I'm glad you listened to me." The laughing voice behind me belonged to Cherry, the ol' lady who filled me in on being a biker that first morning at the clubhouse.
I turned and let her hug me. "Yeah, I am, too. This feels right."
Cherry acted as sort of a mother to the whole club. Her ol' man had been killed on a run several years back, and the Raiders took care of her. Rather than find a new man, or leave the life, she moved into a camper parked not far from the clubhouse, and took care of the Raiders. "I know it does, honey. Now you just keep your head on straight, and you'll be good." She patted my cheek and raised hand to the Prospect to bring her a beer. "I'll send Marissa over. She's good at putting patches on." With a wink, she moved on, probably to check on the rest of 'her boys'.
Marissa, one of the club girls, caught up with me a few minutes later. "Cherry said you might need some help with a patch?" She smiled up at me, making no secret of the fact she'd like to help with more.
"Yeah, I could use some help, I guess." I held up my cut and new patches. "Think you can do anything with this?"
"Course I can, baby. You give me an hour, and I'll have it all fixed up for you." She gave me her best seductive smile and walked away with an exaggerated sway to her hips.
I ignored the invitation. All these months later, and I still couldn't bring myself to fuck another woman. Sure, I'd tried. But when it came down to it, all I could think of was how hurt Justine would have been before. Of all the stupid shit to care about, that had to be the fucking worst. Bitch dropped me for another man, so why the fuck was I still worried about her?
I should just get the fuck over it, and take Crank's advice about the fastest way to get over one bitch was to get another bitch under me. The rest of my beer went down fast, as I looked around the bar and living room area, trying to decide which of the club girls might catch my interest long enough. Or maybe I should take a serious look at the other talent that showed up for our next open party.
Fuck it. Marissa all but asked, and she was sexy as hell. She would do. I stalked off after her. Better do it before I could talk myself out of it. Otherwise, I'd end up right where I always did, listening to Justine's favorite songs and drinking myself into a stupor while I remembered every single fucking detail.
Marissa made herself easy to find by leaving the door open. She sat on the bed in one of the rooms the club girls often crashed in, when they weren't warming a Brother's bed. She had my cut spread out, and the new patches laid on it while she readied her needles and thread.
"Hey, Marissa, thought I meet keep you company while you're doing that." I couldn't think of a damn thing to say that didn't sound weird as fuck.
She looked up with a sweet smile. "Hey, Fabio, I'm glad you came. It's a little quiet back here, with the party going on." She made the first jab with her needle, then quickly inserted a second needle through the same holes. "You going to get some new ink to celebrate? Or maybe get something else pierced?"
"I don't know. Probably, though. You think I should?" I had several tattoos already, and a couple piercings. The pain of the tattooing process had become kind of therapeutic for me, so when shit got bad, I usually talked Skates into giving me another one.
"I do." Her needles flashed with her quick movements. "Most of the guys have the Skulls n Gears somewhere on their skin. Maybe it's time you got one for something good."
My hackles rose. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged and kept sewing. "Just the girls have all noticed you usually only get a new one after you get all broody and listen to sad old music."
That came as a shock. I hadn't figured anyone really noticed my moods that closely. No one ever made any comments, at least. Of course, if they did, I would probably take their head off. I just nodded in reply.
Her fingers paused and she gave me a cautious under her lashes. "Some girl do that to you, or you manage it all by yourself."
Anger shot through me. No one, other than Crank, had ever asked for a single detail of my past, especially not that part.
She must have seen how much it pissed me off, because she stopped working again, and fully looked at me. "Just so you know, I'm not prying. You just seem so sad sometimes, and talking can really help when the time's right. So if you ever decide you're ready, I'm around, and I don't spread nobody's shit around."
The anger drained out of me. She just wanted to help. "Thanks, I'll remember that."
The sweet smile, not the seductive one she normally gave, came again. "Good." She went back to sewing.
The dam suddenly broke. "Yeah, it was a girl. We were together all through high school, and planned to get married. When I graduated, I enlisted, because it was family tradition. Right before my enlistment was up, she wrote to tell me she'd found someone else." Fucking tears made my vision all blurry.
"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry! You never had any hint?"
I shook my head. "Nothing. The letter before that, she counted down how long until I came home, and talked about wedding plans. Then that bombshell came. I knew my being gone was hard for her, but I never imagined she might leave me over it."
Marissa scowled a little and kept working. "How long between her writing about wedding plans and that letter?"
I shrugged. "What difference does it make? It came four days after I got one about fucking bridesmaids and flowers."
"Honey, that don't make sense." She shook her head, but continued sewing. "A woman who's looking at another man don't get all excited about that kind of thing."
"Well, she fucking lied then. Every letter she sent was probably a lie. No doubt, she started fucking around the minute I left." My bitterness came out in anger. Restless, I stood to pace the small room.
Marissa said nothing more, probably worried I would fucking explode on her. Thoughts similar to those she expressed had tormented me since I opened that fucking letter. Two years, three months, and sixteen days. My muscles vibrated with the need for violence.
"Here you go, baby, all done." She rose and showed me the cut with its full set of patches. I had to admit, it looked really good. When I went to take it from her, she shook her head and moved behind me. "Here, let me help."
It felt awkward as hell, having someone help me put my cut on, but I didn't argue. She settled the leather over my shoulders and smoothed it, then her fingers brushed against my neck. Her gentle touch soothed the knotted tension there, and when she pressed my shoulders for me to turn, I obeyed.
"Sit with me a little while? You don't have to do anything. I could just really use some company right now." Her soft voice sounded nothing like the flirtatious club girl I was accustomed to, and her eyes glittered with unshed tears.
She'd listened to me, without judging. The least I could do was return the favor. I nodded. "Okay."
She took my hand and tugged me over to the bed, so I kicked my boots off and joined her, stretching out on my back. Marissa pressed close to my side, and I wrapped my arm around her, giving her a little comfort from whatever demons chased her.
"You want to talk about it?"
She nodded, and tears spilled over. "Today is my son's third birthday."
"I didn't know you had a kid." I guess I shouldn't be shocked. Several of the girls had kids, and some even brought them around the clubhouse from time to time. But no one had ever mentioned Marissa having one.
"I don't have him. I had a hard time after he was born. I had just left my boyfriend at the time, and I guess that didn't help things. My mother was always a controlling bitch, and when she didn't think I was taking good enough care of him, she took him away from me." Her shoulders shook with some emotion.
"You get to see him?"
"No. I haven't seen him since he was four weeks old."
"Oh, shit, baby, I'm sorry." I turned and pulled her close, and let her cry.
12
Justine
Life became one long series of terror-filled obstacles. If I thought I was scared after that night, I leaned what real fear was after the first phone call. They kept coming, on a regular basis, and he always called from a different number. I knew better than to answer a call from any number I didn't recognize, but somehow, not picking up made it even worse. At least if I heard his voice, I knew.
Finally, the strain took such a toll, I changed my number. Those first few weeks after the new number almost felt okay, but subconsciously, I must have known it was only a matter of time. It felt like holding my breath and waiting for the next blow to come. Which, of course, it did. The call came.
"Hey there, Teach, I'm disappointed. You got a new number. I had to fucking break into your school to get your new one."
The familiar surge of terror came, and I threw the phone. Unable to take it any longer, I moved, but he found me the same way he got my phone number. I never knew when I would hear from him, but every time he called, a rash of assaults similar to mine were reported. Sometimes they came before, sometimes after, and sometimes both.
It haunted me. He had formed some sick attachment to me, and somehow the calls were connected to his new crimes. Every time it happened, I knew I should report it. But, truly, it would serve no purpose to humiliate myself any further. I didn't know anything that could help them catch him. So, like always, I stayed silent and retreated further into my shell.
Eventually, I felt like I had nowhere else to run to, so I went back to my original safety zone. I moved back home for the sake of what was left of my sanity. My obsessions with security had only worsened, until they took up most of my free time. I couldn't keep doing it alone.
The move back to my parents' house might have made me feel a bit safer, at least initially. But it came with a different set of pitfalls and torments that might have been even more hazardous for me. Everywhere I looked were reminders of my life with Caleb—pictures of us together as kids, prom pictures, keepsakes my mom hung onto.
I redecorated my own room, removed every trace of him, but the rest of the house still held onto his memory. And my mother refused to even consider packing some things away to make it a little easier for me, even when my dad intervened and asked. Instead, she seemed to take perverse pleasure in finding a billion little ways to remind me what I'd given up.
Every morning, I started off with a little prayer just to get through the day without too much pain. I understood, in a way, why she did it. She'd loved Caleb, and been terribly upset when I told her I broke it off with him. She couldn’t understand, and I couldn't tell her the truth. So not only did I lose the man I loved, I lost my mom in every way that counted, too.
After work, I usually spent some time in the backyard with Sam and Hudson before I did anything else. They needed as much attention as I could give them. Mom pitched a fit about my bringing them when I moved back, but she mellowed a little toward them, at least. I wished I could say the same for myself.
While my dad welcomed me back with open arms, my mother firmly kept me at a distance. All of her resentment at what she saw as merely rebellion from me welled up with a vengeance.
One Friday evening, I sat on the back porch reading while the dogs lay contented at my feet. Out there, and in my room, were the only places in the house I could pretty well count on mom not following me, haranguing me with constant criticisms. So I took advantage and spent as much time with the dogs as I could, even if was just sitting by them and reading.
The sounds of things banging around in the kitchen came through the window, reminding me of the time, and the torture session coming up. Mom insisted on re-instituting the same rules from before I moved out on my own. She and I prepared dinner together every day, and we always ate dinner as a family. As a teenager, I'd thought it was stupid and controlling. Now, as an adult, I knew exactly what it was—the perfect excuse to criticize and belittle me.
And now I had to face it yet again. I sighed and stood, silently wishing I was the sort of person who could use curse words every other breath. With a final pat on the dogs' heads, I went inside to wash up and help with dinner.
Mom glanced up from where she peeled potatoes at the sink. "You decided to come in and help, finally?"
I swallowed my resentment. "Sorry, I didn't realize you had already started." It went the same way every evening, yet I wasn't allowed to start without her. I gritted my teeth and tried to get ready for it.
"Right, the sounds of things being moved in the kitchen told you nothing." She rolled her eyes. "If you can bring yourself to finish these, I'll get the chicken breaded and going."
The request needed no reply, so I gave none. The less I had to say to her, the better. Instead, I just took the knife, and her place at the sink, and went to work on the potatoes. If I was lucky, dinner would be simple and quick, but I seriously doubted it.
Mom went about getting the chicken started, talking to herself, but making sure I heard it all. "I don't know how some people can just sit and read all day. Never get anything done. Well, they probably have serious regrets about things they've done." She clattered around a little more, clearly waiting for some response from me. "Hm, you know what? I don't feel like standing over it and frying the chicken today. I think I'll just roast it with garlic. Caleb always used to love that."
My knife slipped and the blade bit into my thumb, right at the joint. Blood started flowing and I dropped the knife and potato to grab a paper towel. I stood there, blood seeping through the paper towel from my throbbing thumb, and anger swept over me in a terrifying wave.
"Oh, are you okay? What happened?" Mom half smirked over her shoulder. She knew exactly what happened. She liked having solid evidence of how much her words had shaken me.
Rather than get into it with her again, I just turned and left the room. Upstairs, I stopped in the bathroom long enough to clean and dress my cut, even though it still bled. In my room, I sat on the bed, and tried to stay numb. Other than fear, I allowed myself no emotions. I couldn't afford it.
A tear rolled over my lashes, and I brushed it away angrily. My mom and I had been so close before, but I ruined that, just like I did everything else in my life. I stood and paced around the small room until something on my dresser caught my attention.
No.
She did not.
But there it sat. The picture Caleb's mother took of him and me hugging right before he left.
I thought all the copies of that were destroyed, but apparently my mother found one. That shouldn't surprise me. Lately, if there was a way to hurt me, she would move heaven and earth to find it. My fingers trembled as I picked it up, looking closely.
God, we were so young there. We actually believed things would work in our favor, and our lives would be some happily ever after fairy tale that never happens. Such fools. I stared at us, at the grief in our faces, mixed with hope.
Why did he have to leave? Just to follow some stupid family tradition that really meant nothing to him. He went off chasing adventure and action, leaving me alone and defenseless for the twisted monsters this life spawned.
Fury like I never felt before pounded through my blood. I swept everything off the top of my dresser with one hand, not caring how much noise I made, or what broke. None of that mattered.
How could my Caleb do that to me? I'd loved him, given him everything, and he still left. All of this was his fault. All of it.
I turned, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Tears I hadn't even noticed wet my cheeks, and I looked all disheveled and broken. That was me. Broken. Caleb broke me when he left and let those men rape me.
I crossed the room to the mirror and stared at myself for a moment. The creature looking back at me was nothing more than a shell, an automaton going through the motions because she had to.
Screams of rage tore from my throat and I hit the creature in the mirror until the glass shattered, and still I didn't stop.
Someone pounded on my door, but I didn't answer. I fell to the floor, shaking and sobbing and screaming and breaking even further apart.
Nothing could fix me now, not even Caleb.
13
Fabio
The Hell Raiders became as close to family as I could get. We all looked out for each other, accepted each other. Hell, that was more than some families did for each other. While I stayed loosely in contact with Alexis, I had no intentions of ever going home. Stags Leap was my home now.
