by M. Robinson
I spent almost the next hour trying the radio, looking through the masses of people for some sight of her. Refusing medical treatment for my arm. I would endure the pain the rest of my life, just to see my girls face again. To know she was alright and not lying somewhere hurt, scared, and alone. Praying she’d found Carl and they were safe.
Praying the Reaper, that I always wanted to take me, didn't fucking take her instead.
I was about to give up all hope. I could physically feel her slipping away from my existence, exactly like I felt Luke so many years before. Firefighters, cops, ambulances, health professionals, all stepped up that day, trying to help. Giving their lives for others. Complete strangers. Nothing could even come close to describing what I saw.
What would forever be engrained in my mind till my fucking time was up.
The radio clicked over. “Creed,” Autumn whimpered through the receiver.
“Babe… babe, where are you?” I urged, running toward the building, ignoring every fucking person who got in my way.
“I’m hurt, I hurt everywhere… please… please… help me…”
“Baby,” I wept, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “Just tell me where ya are, Autumn.”
“I can’t… I can’t move… I’m sorry, Creed…” Her voice was barely audible.
“Autumn, listen to me. I'm comin’, babe. Need you to fight... please, I love you so fuckin’ much. So damn much. I’m sorry… I’m so fuckin’ sorry for everythin’,” I confessed.
“I... love... you... always. I’m so—”
BOOM!
The loudest sound spread over Manhattan, breaking the sound barrier. Traveling from the Towers to the streets in waves, like a bomb went off. Jerking me back with an unexplainable force. The buildings started to explode, as the rescue team was pulling me away. Panic and pandemonium surrounded me, engulfing me in nothing, but sorrow and desperation of what just happened. Debris falling everywhere.
A dark plume of smoke billowed out of the buildings as if Hell had officially taken over.
Swallowing the eleventh day of September and everything thing down into the black abyss.
It was an endless stream of havoc and destruction.
The tower started collapsing like a fucking game of dominos, floor after floor to the ground in flames.
The tragedy.
The devastation.
The loss of faith in humanity.
And my fucking world…
As I knew it.
FOURTEEN
CREED
“The day that changed America,” President Bush declared during his speech from Ellis Island, commencing the one-year anniversary of the terrorist’s attacks on the World Trade Center. “For those who lost loved ones, it has been a year of sorrow, of empty places, of newborn children who will never know their father’s here on earth. For members of our military, it’s been a year of sacrifice and service far from their homes. For all Americans, it has been a year of adjustment, of coming to terms with the difficult knowledge that our nation has determined enemies, and that we are not invulnerable to their attacks.”
I had been walking the streets, surrounding Ground Zero all day, since I landed early that morning, reflecting on my life. Remembering those who had fallen under the hands of terrorists, including my best fucking friend. The sight of the once thriving towers was nothing but a pit in the ground. Across the street, there was a wall lined with victims’ pictures, some who were found in the rubble, others who weren't so fortunate. A makeshift memorial of letters to loved ones, flowers, stuffed animals, candles all filled the space, acting as a place to grieve for those who lost a huge part of their lives in seconds. Watching families break down even after a year of loss on that tragic day of September eleventh was like reliving it all over again.
Both towers came down that day, collapsing into a heap of marred steel. Later finding out the temperature of the fires melted the steel, causing floor after floor to fall upon the next till the towers were no longer upright. There was zero visibility for the longest time. Everything for miles covered in white ash, emergency vehicles, cars, and buses crushed beneath, barely sticking up through the mayhem.
I spent the three days following the attacks searching for Autumn and Carl. Praying I’d find them among the ashes and debris, dead or alive. I remembered it as if it were yesterday, reliving it every goddamn day since. Diesel and some of the other brothers rode in the next morning, riding out all fucking night. Just so they could help me search for the woman I knew was gone. Mayor Giuliani, along with thousands of other citizens of New York City, rummaged through the two-thousand tons of steel for days, forgoing sleep to try to save lives that were hanging on by a fucking thread.
Death was all around me.
It had been around me all my fucking life.
Now here I was a year later standing by the pit of the worst nightmare America had ever lived through, trying to get my feet to move. To take the steps across the street, to add pictures of Autumn and Carl to the Memorial. To feel as if they weren’t just figments of my imagination, to know that they were truly real. It took me all fucking day to walk across the street to do just that. I lit a candle for their souls, praying they were resting in peace.
I never found their bodies under all the mangled metal. I never found any sign that they actually existed. Just dust and ashes. All I had left was my tarnished memory of them. Like a broken mirror that was nothing but shards of glass.
I never slept anymore. Hearing Autumn’s voice play over and over in my head like a broken record I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t pause, I couldn’t fucking forget.
“I... love... you... always. I’m so—”
The BOOM jolting me awake every fucking time.
Sometimes I felt like I had died right along with them.
Sometimes I wish I had.
“September 11th, 2001 will always be a fixed point in the life of America. The loss of so many lives left us to examine our own. Each of us were reminded that we were only here for a time. These counted days should be filled with things that matter. Love for our families. Love for our neighbors. And for our Country.”
I spent the last year aimlessly wandering around through daily life. Fighting for a cause I felt like I was always fucking losing. Didn’t matter how many lives I took, for whatever reason, good or bad. I protected my brothers, I fought and killed for the club, I did everything that was expected of me, all in the name of the colors on my cut. Making me realize I was no better than those goddamn terrorists.
Autumn was right. She was the last bit of good left in my life. The last piece of the man she wished I could be, died right along with her. She was gone, and I felt like there was only so much I could do to try to make it right. If there was one thing I learned about living and breathing the MC, it was vengeance wasn’t a way of life, it was life.
An eye for an eye.
Was all I’d ever fucking known.
My mind had been struggling with the decision, going back forth an endless amount of times, contemplating what was right or what was wrong. The thoughts consumed me until there was no doubt left inside of me. Knowing the only good that could come of it.
Was my own peace of mind.
I checked in on Laura often, hoping it would drown out the remorse, alleviate some of my guilty conscience. Making sure she was alright. Helping her any way I could, being responsible for her only daughter’s death stemmed from me. Autumn would have never been in New York if I hadn’t pushed her away. Her mother was coping as best as she could, but each day seemed like a struggle, some better than others. I swear there were times she looked at me the same way my mother did.
Blaming me for another innocent life I had taken.
I walked around aimlessly, needing the distraction. The sidewalks filled with endless amounts of people. Civilians, police, first responders, and military. Men and women dressed in fatigues, there to honor the fallen. Including their own who lost their lives fighting for our c
ountry.
All gathered together to remember another day that will forever fucking haunt me.
My flight landed back in North Carolina just after nine o'clock at night. I walked up to the front door of my house, placing my hand on the door knob. Pausing before walking into my broken fucking household. Considering when to break the news to my mother, to Noah, to the goddamn Prez.
I flipped on the light as I walked in, throwing my keys on the entry shelf, before making my way to the kitchen, not surprised to find her passed out at the dining room table. I stood there taking in her appearance for what seemed like an eternity.
Her bony right hand wrapped around an empty bottle of vodka, while the other one clutched onto a framed picture of Luke. Pulling out the chair adjacent to her, I sat down, leaning back and placing my boots on the table. Giving her arm a little shove.
“Wake up, Ma. Need to talk to you.”
She stirred, groaning, “Not now, baby. I'm so tired,” she yawned. “It's been a really long day. We can talk tomorrow.” She placed her head back down on the table, completely dismissing me.
I abruptly stood, my chair hitting the wall behind me with a thud. “Tired my ass,” I gritted out, hovering above her, working my hands in fists at my sides.
My patience was wearing very fucking thin, there was only so much more I could take. My temper looming, I could feel myself at the tipping point of surrendering to my anger.
Losing all fucking control.
She groggily looked up at me, squinting from the bright light. “What do you want from me?” she mumbled, her head swayed and her eyes flickered shut. Before I knew what I was doing, my hands connected with the table, slamming down onto the wood.
Causing her to jerk back. “What the he—” I grabbed a hold of her chair, roughly spinning her to look me in the eyes.
“This is how it’s gonna go down,” I snapped through a clenched jaw, close to her face. The smell of booze immediately assaulted my senses. Fueling the rage I felt deep in my core. “You’re gonna listen to everythin’ I gotta say, whether you like it or not. I’ve had enough of your fuckin’ bullshit!”
Her head rolled back, then upright again. “I said not tonight, Creed, and don’t you dare talk to me like that! I’m still your momma!”
Without warning, I lifted her out of her chair, throwing her over my shoulder like she weighed nothing. Barreling down the hallway, past Noah's room to the bathroom, as she pounded her fists weakly into my back.
“Put me down, Creed! What are you doing?! Put me down!” she belligerently screamed.
I didn't falter, tearing back the shower curtain. I turned on the faucet, cranking the lever to cold water.
“Don't you dare! You put me down right now!”
“Not a fuckin’ problem!” I slammed her ass down into the tub with her clothes on. Grabbing the showerhead from the cradle, dousing her body with the spray.
“Ahhh! That’s freezing! STOP!”
I didn’t let up, making sure I drenched every last inch of her. She needed to be fucking sober to try to have a normal conversation with her.
“Stop! Now! Who do you think you are?”
I shut off the water, throwing the sprayer into the tub next to her.
“What is so important that it couldn't wait till tomorrow?” she spat, looking down at her soaking wet body with her arms out to her sides.
I crouched down, leaning close to her face. Gazing deep into her drunken, vacant eyes for the first time in years. Looking past her demons, needing to see the real woman staring back at me. The mother I still had and wanted in my mind. The same one I still knew lived inside of her, buried under all the hurt and pain. Hidden behind all the happy memories that had become her worst nightmares.
The realization hit me right then and there. I needed to calm the fuck down, there was no use screaming at a drunk. It wouldn’t get me anywhere except more pissed off than I already was. At the end of the day, she would always be my mother, the woman who gave me life. The one I loved more than anything in my fucked-up life. I needed to rationalize with her. Make her see the big picture. Make her understand what I saw. What Noah saw.
How there was nothing fucking left of her, but the memories in our minds.
“Do you even care anymore, Ma? Do you have any idea how hard it’s been seein’ you like this? How bad it fuckin’ hurts that I’m lookin’ at you right now, and I have no idea who this woman is starin’ back at me. She ain’t my mother,” I confessed, leaning back on the heels of my boots, shaking my head.
Her eyes quickly glazed over. My words hitting her hard, breaking through the alcohol-induced blur.
“Luke died, Ma. I know it fuckin’ hurts. I know that more than anyone, yeah?” I breathed out, cocking my head to the side. Taking her in. “I’m the one that pulled the trigger, remember? I’m the one that put him to ground. Me.” Hitting my chest, needing to get through to her. “I know there are some days it hurts so fuckin’ bad that you can’t breathe. Suffocatin’ cuz the pain won’t let you go. I get it… I understand cuz I feel it too, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t.”
She winced, biting her bottom lip to control the trembling, allowing her emotions to seep through. Finally permitting herself to mourn the death of her son.
“Autumn died, Ma. She fuckin’ died…”
Her eyes watered with tears, nodding, “I know.”
“Coulda’ fooled me. Haven’t said a word about it. You were barely coherent through her funeral,” I reminded, remembering how I put her belligerent ass in a cab after the service. Ordering a prospect to follow and put her to bed, since she could barely stand on her own.
I rubbed the back of my head, peering down at the ground, lost in my own thoughts. “I’m tryin’… I’m tryin’ so fuckin’ hard to keep it together. Pushin’ through all the bullshit, all the hurt and pain. Keepin’ my emotions in check by throwin’ myself into the club, into bein’ VP. This is my life, Ma, violence and death. There is no turnin’ back for me,” I spoke sincerely, taking a deep breath before continuing.
“I keep makin’ excuses for you, enablin’ you, and I can’t fuckin’ do it anymore, Ma. It ain’t right,” I scoffed out, pausing to let my words sink in. Looking up at her tear-soaked face, we locked eyes. “You’re nothin’ but a drunk and a sorry-ass excuse for a mother. Noah deserves better.” With that, I stood, grabbing the towel off the rack, throwing it at her. Immediately feeling like shit that I just said that to her, knowing it was my fault to begin with.
She caught it mid-air. Her chest rising and falling, contemplating what to say. I could see her mind spinning out of control. Opening her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I couldn’t look at her any longer without saying something I would fucking regret. So I just turned around, leaving her to battle her own demons.
I couldn’t protect her anymore.
I walked onto the back porch, leaving the door open. Needing to get some fresh air, to clear my head. Listening to her sobs wreak havoc on her frail body through the bathroom window. I sat on the steps, resting my elbows on my knees as I pulled out a cigarette. Bringing it to the corner of my mouth, I flicked back the lighter, inhaling long and hard, searing the filter. Allowing the nicotine to burn its way through my lungs before blowing out a wad of smoke.
“Creed, I…” Ma whispered, crying from behind me.
I didn’t bother to turn around, her fucking shame was already burning a hole in my back.
“I just… I don’t know how to stop…” she bellowed, sucking in air, trying to find her breath. “I was his momma for God’s sake. My only job was to protect him. I failed. You may have pulled the trigger, baby… but he was only there because of me. He should have been home, in bed. What kind of momma, am I? I don’t deserve you or Noah… I don’t deserve anything.”
I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the porch railing. Needing a minute. I always knew she felt responsible for Luke’s death, but hearing her actually say
the goddamn words was almost too much for me to take.
Heavy footsteps filled the silence, coming up the driveway, echoing through my thoughts. I didn’t have to wonder who it was. Neither one of us did. I took one last drag of my cigarette, waiting until the footsteps stopped out in front of me. Already fucking dreading the outcome of what I was about to say.
I took a deep breath, speaking with conviction, “Gonna enlist in the Army,” I divulged, opening my eyes and looking up, meeting my father’s stare.
“The fuck you are, Creed!” he instantly drawled out.
I immediately stood, flicking out my cigarette not backing down. Coming face to face with him.
“Jameson…” Ma coaxed, slowly stepping up beside me. Fixing her wet dress and wiping away her tears.
“Don’t wanna hear your shit tonight, woman! Do you hear your son? Where the fuck did this come from? What bullshit are you tellin’ him?”
“Nothing. I haven’t told him anything. Leave him alone! He wants to do some good in his life. He’s your son! Start treating him like one!”
“I give my boys everything. The fuck you talkin’ about?”
“And Luke—”
“Jesus Christ… back to this shit again,” he viciously spewed, eyeing her up and down. “It’s been one less mouth to fuckin’ feed. I ain’t even sure that little shit was mine.”
My mother never reacted to my father’s abuse, but there was something about the look in her eyes in that moment that showed me this wasn’t going to fucking end well.
“You son of a bitch! You piece of shit!” she screamed, lunging at him off the porch, using all her strength to scratch, punch, and kick him. Doing anything and everything she could in her power to physically hurt him.
Her fist connected with his temple, stunning him for a second. I sprang into action, stepping in before he regained his composure, and was able to really hurt her. Grabbing ahold of her waist, I roughly jerked her flailing body off of him. Holding her in my arms.
“It’s your fault! It’s your fault he’s fucking dead! Your godforsaken club is just violence and death! You did this, and I hope you burn in Hell for it!” she seethed, trying to fight me off.
