by M. Robinson
“Luke,” I cried, cradling his frame against my chest. He was unresponsive.
“FUCK! We’re losing him!”
I held my dying brother in my arms while I watched my mother slowly dying on the floor in front of me.
“SOMEONE call 9-1-1!” she urged, desperately looking around the room.
“SOMEBODY HELP! WHY IS NO ONE HELPING?! Why are you all standin’ there, DO SOMETHIN’!” I screamed over and over again until my throat was burning and raw.
No one budged.
They all knew what calling 9-1-1 meant. Cops being called to the clubhouse was never allowed. It was a code of conduct no one would fucking break. Even if it meant innocent lives were lost.
“FUCKING CALL 9-1-1, YOU FUCKIN’ PUSSIES!” I locked eyes with the brothers, silently pleading for them to break. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” I bawled, rocking Luke in my tight grasp.
Mom trembled, wrapping her arms around him, still putting pressure on the wound with a shaking hand. “Please God! Please help my baby! Please! I'll do anythin’! Don’t take my baby! Please, not my baby! JAMESON!” She took him out of my arms, cradling his limp body, holding onto him for dear life. “Momma’s here. Stay with me, I can't lose you. You hear me? Stay with me!” she whispered, still trying to get the blood to stop. “FUUUUCK. JAMESON! HELP! Where are you?!” she pleaded, pulling him closer, rocking him back and forth, blubbering incoherent words while trying to comfort him. Holding onto hope that this was all a horrible nightmare she'd wake up from soon. “Creed, they aren’t doin’ anything’! Call 9-1-1! NOW!”
I sprang into action. Running to the phone that was on the far wall. My hands shaking as I started to dial. Bloody fingerprints covered the numbers.
“Give me that!” I heard my father grit out, coming in out of nowhere. Yanking the receiver out of my grasp and hitting end. Quickly dialing another number. “Yeah, Joseph,” he said calmly to the on-call doctor he had on payroll. “I need you here, stat.” He hung up like this was normal, like he didn’t fucking care that his son was lying in a pool of his own blood.
“Joseph?! Why aren’t you callin—”
He peered back at my mother, rendering her speechless. “Jesus Christ! What the fuck happened?!” he snapped, running his hands through his hair. Taking in all the gore that lined the room. The rusty smell of blood assaulted his senses, potent in the air.
I peered around the room for the first time since the ricocheted bullet hit Luke’s chest. Phoenix, Stone, and Diesel were the only ones left in the room, hanging their heads in remorse. Then my eyes landed on Martinez. His cold, dark, soulless eyes staring back at me, fueling my hatred for him.
“Your son here decided to fuck with the devil,” Martinez stated, peering down at my mother, holding Luke’s lifeless body. “He was trying to have a pissing contest with me tonight and clearly he lost. Teach him how to have better aim next time.” The motherfucker turned and walked to the exit, turning at the last second, peering down at my mother. “My condolences, Diane,” he added in a tone filled with sympathy. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. My mother was brutally murdered right in front of me. She died in my arms.” He bowed his head, turned and left.
I wanted to run after him and finish what I had started. I wanted him to pay for this, but I couldn’t. An invisible force held me back. I was the one who pulled the trigger. I was the one who killed my baby brother.
This was no one’s fault but mine.
I reached for the phone again but Pops shoved me back. “What the fuck did you do, boy?”
I couldn’t help it. The fucking shame was eating me alive. “It was an accident! I swear to fuckin’ God it was an accident!” I repeated, barely being able to get the words out.
“Momma? What’s going on?” A sleepy-eyed Noah came walking in. “Where did Luke go?”
Diesel acted quick, scooping him up before he saw anything. Ma looked up, torn, as Noah was rushed out of the room.
“Let him call 9-1-1, Jameson! It was an accident! Where the fuck were you?!” Mom questioned, bringing our attention back to her. Her eyes still focused on the hall where Noah was escorted out.
“Accident or not, we can’t call the cops! You want your son to go to prison?” he replied, ignoring her question. Not giving a fuck what Noah was about to walk into.
She shook her head violently, finally understanding. “No! Not Creed! I can’t—”
“It was an accident!” I shouted back, reaching for the phone again.
He jerked it away, shoving me harder. Causing me to stumble from weakness, ready to pull a gun on me. “We will all go to prison over this!” he said, his eyes dancing from me over to the brothers.
She shook her head again, closing her eyes, trying to compose herself or possibly praying to God. “You fuckin’ bastard,” she wailed.
“I’m tryin’ to save all our asses! Do you want to lose another son?”
I stepped away from him until my back hit the wall. The truth of his words was too much for me to bare. I slid down the wood paneling, slowly sinking further into the corner of my own mind. Into my own personal Hell, tuning them out. Pulling my knees close to my chest, letting tears fall down the sides of my face. I thought about all the happy memories I’d shared with Luke.
I remembered the first time he crawled.
His first words, the first time he said my name.
I opened my eyes, locking them with his. I willed myself to look away, but I couldn't. I forced myself to face what I had done.
Remembering the love those eyes once held. Every time I told him I loved him and the first time he said “I love you” back and every time since. Telling him how I would always be there for him no matter what. Promising to always protect him. How earlier that day, we were shooting the shit about girls and life. I reached into my pocket, pulling Luke’s necklace out. Holding it up to my lips, clenching his protector in my hands, and bawling harder.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
All those memories were gone in a blink of an eye, now replaced with blood. So much fucking blood.
Blink.
Joseph hurried in with MC brothers behind him.
Blink.
Pulling my baby brother from my momma’s arms.
Blink.
Performing CPR.
Blink.
Momma praying, sobbing, falling apart.
Blink.
Luke's lifeless eyes staring at me.
Blink.
Joseph filling syringes.
Blink.
An MC brother picking Momma up off the floor and taking her out the door as she kicked and screamed.
Blink.
The black bag being zipped. Swallowing Luke's bloody body.
Blink.
Chaos…
Blink.
More chaos…
Blink.
Nothing but chaos…
Blink.
An MC brother trying to stand me up.
Blink… Blink… Blink…
Blackness.
Luke was buried on Thursday, September twenty-sixth in the middle of the night. Four A.M. to be exact. Phoenix, Stone, and Diesel carried him in a black body bag to the furthest field beyond the woods, located behind the clubhouse. A few other MC brothers babysat my mother, who was sedated on the couch inside. Pops slipped a Xanax in her water a few hours before. It was the only way he could get away with burying Luke the way he did. He was going to let her come to the makeshift grave once the dirty work was over and there was no evidence left of my brother.
Only memories.
Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Luke’s lifeless eyes staring back at me. I remember every step I took, following behind my father. I remember the thick suffocating fog in the night air that came after the rain we had gotten the day before. The way the wind blew a cool breeze through the trees, skimming the surface of my overly heated skin. I remember the sounds of twigs cracking beneath our boots
, the noises from the birds and owls along with whatever else lurked in the woods.
Most of all, I remember feeling so much fucking hatred for my father for not giving Luke, his son, a proper burial. Just wanting to throw him in a field along with countless other bodies the club had taken.
Luke deserved better.
He didn’t fucking deserve that.
I watched Phoenix, Diesel, and Stone start digging his grave and I swear to God all I wanted to do was dig my own fucking grave beside him. I would take being buried alive over having to live with what I had done.
My father ordered them to stop digging, took the shovel right out of Stone’s grasp. “You did this. He’s dead because of you, boy. Now, I’m not going to make my brothers pay for your sins. You dig that grave and lay your brother to rest in it. I want you to remember that he’s six feet under because of you. Next time you better keep your goddamn mouth shut. Mouthin’ off to Martinez, you piece of shit. Coulda’ cost a huge alliance.” He threw the shovel at my face, daring me to defy him.
I didn’t argue.
I didn’t say a word.
He was right.
I gripped the shovel tight, welcoming the pain from the blisters forming on my palms, and dug Luke’s grave while everyone watched. I could sense that the brothers didn’t agree with what my old man was making me do, but they knew better than to open their fucking mouths. Not wanting to end up like Striker. I knew this was the real reason he drugged my mother. There was no way in hell she would allow him to punish me this way.
I kept my emotions in check, forcefully driving the blade into the hard ground over and over again. I didn’t deserve to mourn the life I had taken. I deserved far fucking worse than what was happening to me.
The closer I got to finishing digging my brother’s grave, the more pissed off I got. The thought of Luke’s body rotting away in this black insect-infested hole without any barriers to protect him where he would just rot away.
A day.
A month.
A year from now…
All that would be left of him were his bones. I prayed to God he already took Luke’s soul and he wasn’t left to wander the world as a spirit. Unable to rest in peace. I tried to tell myself that the Lord couldn’t be that cruel, but in the end what fuck had he done for me?
Not a goddamn thing.
“That’s enough,” Dad ordered, pulling me away from my thoughts. “Get your ass out of that hole and come get your brother. You’re goin’ to carry him into the ground by your damn self, and then you’re goin’ to bury him by your fuckin’ self too.”
“Prez, we can—”
“You can shut your fuckin’ mouth! That’s what you can do!” he cut Phoenix off, looking from me to him and back to me. “I’m not going to tell you again, Creed! Get your brother and lay his fuckin’ ass to rest!” His large hands grabbed me by the front of my shirt and lifted me out, shoving me over by Luke’s body.
I regained my footing before landing on him. Taking a deep breath, I did as I was told. It took everything inside me not to fall apart when I picked up Luke’s body into my arms. Carrying him over to the hole, stalling, wanting to remember every last second before I gently placed him in his purgatory. I wanted to unzip the black bag, I wanted to see his face one last time, to properly say goodbye. There was so much I wanted to say, but no words would make things right. No amount of time would bring him back. So all I did was cradle his cold body as close as I could to my broken heart.
Wanting to at least remember the feel of him in my arms.
“I’m so fucking sorry, little brother,” I whispered. My voice cracking with each word that left my lips.
“Let go of him, Creed! And get your ass out of that hole!” Pops gritted his teeth.
“Please… let me say goodbye. Just fuckin’ allow me that…”
“I don’t give a fuck what you’re pleadin’ for! The only thing you deserve is to be lyin’ in the ground instead of him. Now get your ass up here so you can bury him!”
“Jesus Christ! Just let me—”
“Fuckin’ Hell!” He jumped into the hole to pry Luke out of my arms. Ramming me back as hard as he could, making my back connect with the uneven earth. I winced in pain, welcoming the sting from my wounded shoulder, needing to feel anything other than the remorse and ache in my fucking heart.
He wrestled Luke’s body from my grasp, and just threw him to the ground as if he were nothing. As if Luke meant nothing. He fell with a loud thump, landing in a contorted position that could be seen clear as day even though he was in a black fucking body bag.
I immediately stepped toward him, wanting to lay my brother in a more peaceful position. I didn’t take a second step before my father punched me in the damn face. My head whooshed back as I stumbled. He gripped the front of my shirt, jerking me forward. Getting right up in my face.
“Prez, come on, that’s enough,” Stone coaxed.
“Yeah, Prez, leave him alone. He’s been through enough,” Diesel added.
“You listen and you listen good, boy,” Dad clenched, ignoring the brother’s pleas. “I don’t give two shits about you, or what you’re feeling. You’re lucky I’m savin’ your sorry ass from servin’ a life sentence in prison for murder, you ungrateful dick. When I tell you to do somethin’, you fuckin’ do it. Do you understand me? I won’t hesitate to remind you of your fuckin’ place in my clubhouse.”
He took one last look and pushed me back, stepping over Luke’s body to climb out of the hole. He instantly turned to yank me up by my arm, throwing me to the dirt. I tried crawling to my feet, but he didn’t falter, chucking the shovel right at my face. The rusty metal caught my mouth, causing me to spit out blood. I shook it off, getting up on unsteady legs, trying my hardest to stand up straight.
My shame.
My remorse.
My guilt.
Couldn’t hold me up any longer.
I could have taken him, I could have fought back, defended myself, but I deserved everything he was dealing out and more.
I deserved it all.
I picked up the shovel once again, letting the dirt fall over Luke. I buried my brother that night with only the light of the moon shining above me. The next day, I watched my mother fall apart on the ground that her son lay beneath. I watched her once again being torn from the makeshift grave, kicking and screaming for God to give back her baby. I watched my father not give a fuck about the scene playing out in front of him, and the MC brothers shake their heads at the lack of sympathy he had for both his sons and his wife.
From that day forward, I carried the pain that I murdered my brother.
I carried the agony of not being able to say goodbye to him in the depths of my core.
Every day I found myself at the train tracks by the clubhouse, wanting nothing more than to just disappear. Finding myself in the middle of nowhere, relishing the freedom.
Waiting…
Thinking…
Contemplating…
The past. The present. The future.
Then. Now. Forever.
My fucking life.
Wishing I could get on the next train and never look back. But it was just that. A wish. A glimmer of hope outside of the bullshit that was my life. Except, I still had Noah to think about, more than ever before. Every time I looked in his eyes, I was reminded of Luke. Reminded of what I had done to him. Maybe that was my punishment. Being responsible for my brother in ways I had never been before. With each passing day, I felt the same guilt I did the day I took my brother’s life.
Mistakes and regrets.
Choices and decisions.
Life and death.
It all blended together in an array of colors that painted a scary picture. There was no looking back…
I couldn’t even bring myself to go where Luke was buried.
Knowing, that I was the only one to blame.
For putting him to ground.
FIVE
CREED
I ti
lted my head and watched the storm clouds above, waiting for the heavens to unleash their fury upon me. Witnessing flashes of lightning strike in the distance, the smell of rain potent in the air as the wind brushed over my inked skin. Cooling me from the heat. Three loaded blasts filled my surroundings as a train rolled into town. Sounding its horn to make its presence known, tearing me away from my thoughts.
I watched as each massive steel car blurred by with hints of daylight shining through the gaps. I sat there contemplating jumping on until it was too late. The very last train car made its way out of my hellhole and onto the next. Taking the future I wanted so fucking badly with it. Leaving me behind to deal with everyone else's bullshit.
When all I wanted to do was drown in the storm.
While I was off pondering, leaving town on a daily basis since Luke’s death sixth months ago, my mother regularly drowned herself in a pint of vodka. Letting death become her. Adding another life to my tally.
Hers.
My father’s verbal abuse became worse toward her each day that passed, becoming more of a monster than he already was. She had paid the price of losing a child. She didn’t deserve his goddamn hateful words too. He never even mourned his own flesh and blood.
As promised, a few days after I turned eighteen two months ago, I was patched in as a brother. The members went to Church that day, taking a vote on which prospects had earned the right to be patched in. The decision was unanimous. I signed my life away with my fucking blood, how my father always wanted it. Signifying my right into the Devil’s Rejects. It was announced at the National Run that I was a fully patched in member. My father ripped off my Prospect patch and handed me my colors, which consisted of the club logo, the crescent-shaped red patch with “Devil’s Rejects” on it, and the other crescent patch that read Southport.
Patching me in, a look of pride spread across his face. Eagerly awaiting my reaction.
I met his eyes, shook his hand, and just fucking nodded, showing him exactly what it meant to me.
Not one fucking thing.
The brothers all pulled me in for hugs, patting my back. Dousing me in beer, welcoming me with open arms, committing my life and loyalty to the club. Beginning a new chapter in my life when all I wanted was to end the last one. The moment I put Luke to ground was the last time any of the brothers, including Pops, spoke about what happened. About what I had done, as if Luke never even existed. The only reminder I ever had were my mother’s tears and ramblings when she was shit-faced. Everyone who witnessed that night go down was sworn to silence. Threatened to keep their fucking mouths shut.
