Chapter 17

“You ready?” Dragon stands next to me. Shrugging my shoulders, I don’t know if I am or not.

“Does it ever get better?” I ask. Dragon looks confused. Like my question doesn’t make sense.

“Does what get better?” He says.  Glancing over at him, he has to understand.

“Any of this. The killin’, the urge. I feel like a goddamn addict, brother. I want this shit more than I want air.” Dragon takes a breath, knowing what I mean. He can see the look on my face.

“It’s a tough road, Devil. It’s all you’ve known. I believe we can all change for the better. You can do it for her. That need to finish what you started won’t leave, though. Not until it’s over.” Makes sense.

“And after that? How the fuck do I ward off this shit in the future?” Dragon shrugs, grabbing his helmet.

“You let her help you. You let her become the obsession. You let her know that you can’t fight this shit on your own.” Letting Angel inside of my head isn’t the best place for her. I don’t want her in there. It would rip her innocence apart if she knew what went on inside of me. I grab my helmet, sliding it over my head. The urge to run hasn’t been this strong in a long time. I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I want to take shelter in a past that I never had. I want to run to the ends of the earth to hide from what I’ve become.

“You good?” Ghost calls over to me. I give him a nod but I can’t go back just yet.

“Meet you later,” I yell, Ghost nods before taking off behind the other guys. I go the opposite direction. I need to think. I need to make things ok, in my mind. I ride without a care in the world. The death that surrounds me is calming in a way. It soothes everything inside of me. Why though? Why is death calming? To a normal person, death is scary. To me? Death is beautiful. It’s the end game. It’s the last resort. It’s the way of life. I like being the deciding factor on whether someone lives or dies. I like being the one to take that life in my hands and roll it around. I like watching it fade from someone’s eyes like when the light of day, turns to night. 

***

I sit with my legs bent, arms resting on my knees as I look at the place that made me. It almost makes me sad that it’s gone. It was all I knew. It’s what made me. He, made me.

He took what little bit of light I had and stripped it away. I was never a normal child.  I was a liar. I lied my way through school with broken bones, cuts, scrapes. I was forced to tell lies to everyone around me. That part never stuck with me, though. I lost the lies over the years and became aware of what I was. I was the freak; I was the abnormal one. He did this to me. He made me this way. Could I have had a normal life like Angel had? Could I have grown up, and become something more than this? In reality I like to think I could have, but then there is this lust. The lust for blood. The lust for the kill.

Did he really instill all of that in me? Was I born with it? I look at the old broken door that hangs by its hinges. I remember so many times going through that door with a fear of what was behind it.  What kind of mood would he be in, today? What would piss him off? Should I sneak in through the window? Some days, I’d walk in and go straight to my room, hoping to God that he didn’t follow me. It was all for nothing, though. He always came in there. Did you do your homework? Did you tell your teacher you fell? Did you leave your jacket on all day so they couldn’t see your arm? The same questions played on repeat every single day of my youth. I hid so much back then. I finally gave up.  The day he came at me, I saw it in his eyes. I saw the rage. I saw the hatred.  I knew the school called him. I knew he knew, that I had let on that he hit me.

His eyes flared with red fire. It was a new look for him. He’d always been evil but in that moment, he was like nothing I’d ever seen. He came at me with a small knife in his hand. He didn’t realize that, I too, was waiting with a knife of my own. He came at me full force. I knew it in that second that it was him, or me, and I would be damned if I died by that bastard’s hands. He came at me, I ducked. When he tripped forward, I slid in behind him. I wrapped my hand around the front of his throat.

The blade slid through his flesh, like it was nothing.  

I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I didn’t check the time. Everything has flooded me being back here, though. It’s made me look at my life a little differently. I don’t think I can change, regardless of how much I feel for Angel. However, I wonder if I can rein it in for her. Maybe Dragon was right. Maybe I need to let her become my obsession. Maybe she can curb the beast, when he wants to be set free. I glance down at the blood covering my clothes. This is what I’ve become. I shove myself off the ground, walking back toward my bike.

A perfect world would have me settling down, and having a wife and family right now. Nothing in my life has been perfect until Angel came into it. All I can think about is making her happy and seeing her smile. That seems to be so important.  It boggles me, as to how I feel that way since nothing in my life growing up was happy.

Seeing Angel sad or hurting though, that eats away some pieces of me. I never want to see that sad look on her face. I never want to know that I caused it. I throw my helmet on before sending Angel a quick text. I rev up the engine before pulling out. I need to get out of this neighborhood as fast as I can. With all the dread that surrounds this area, it pulls me down further. I don’t know why I let it affect me the way it does. My mind drifts as I ride. I used to be able to ride and let go, but that isn’t the case anymore. Everything seems to close-in on me. My drive is short. When I see, her standing at the end of that fence, I lose it. I pull to a stop, climbing off my bike. My eyes find hers like they always have. Her eyes drop to the front of my cut, the blood that’s now dried there.

Without another word, she runs, leaping into my arms.