Chapter Ten
Drew
If the men were protective before, since Sketch’s death they have been even more so and to be truthfully honest, I’m not even bothered. I haven’t been doing much this past week. Mostly lying in bed and hiding from life but I have been seeing my family and friends. After breaking down in the hospital with Lauren, I’ve realised that I need them around me and shutting them out isn’t good for me. Or them actually. I’ve seen how worried they are for me and I don’t want to cause them unnecessary stress. However today, I want to be alone and away from everyone else. It’s Sketch’s funeral and I’ve secretly been dreading this since the day he was taken from me for one simple reason. I can’t say goodbye to Sketch.
My mum picked out an outfit for me, because I haven’t even put that much thought into the day if I’m honest. Sketch’s parents both passed when he was young, so my dad and the rest of the club made all the arrangements. I’m so grateful, because it has let me digest what has happened and I don’t know how I would have managed if I had to plan a funeral at the same time.
The whole morning has been weirdly peaceful. I haven’t cried at all, but there’s time yet. I’ve showered and when I returned to my room, my mother had neatly placed my black dress and tights on the bed with my heels at the end. Memories I had shared with Sketch flash before me as I dress and applied my makeup, when I move onto my hair I nearly lose it. Sketch loved my hair down my back in loose curls, but I only ever did it when I was making an effort for a party or a date night, because my hair is so long it can take a while. I look over to my curling iron, knowing what I need to do and as I remember how Sketch used to thread his fingers through my hair, I curl it as a stray tear escapes my right eye.
I hear my dad’s deep voice whispering somewhere in the hall, outside my room. I’ve overheard many of his conversations, thinking that I can’t hear him but what my mother has failed to tell him, is that he doesn’t know how to whisper. I haven’t told my dad for the same reasons as my mother, I learn important information and the things I have eavesdropped in on are valuable to me. I know that they have someone locked up somewhere and that they’re quizzing him. I’m not stupid, I know that’s code for torture but I don’t feel a centimetre of guilt, as far as I’m aware, that’s the guy who dug the knife into Sketch. I want to pierce my blade into the fucker’s throat, slice his neck so I can watch the crimson blood decorate his throat. With that fantasy, I finish my hair and prepare myself for a day I don’t want to accept is my reality. Before I leave my room, I turn to see my Old Lady black leather vest, hanging on my wardrobe door. I hadn’t even noticed that before, and I couldn’t think of anything more perfect to wear. A thought snaps and I look down at my dress and tights, knowing I don’t want to wear this. I quickly hunt for my leathers, but after ten minutes digging in my drawers, I can’t find anything.
“Looking for these princess?” My dad’s deep voice appears at the doorway and I turn to see him holding the leather trousers Sketch had bought me. They’re a tight fit, but not too tight that they’re uncomfortable.
I run over to him, and eagerly take them, looking up to my dad as if he’s the hero of the day. “Thanks.”
He nods. “Ignore your mother.”
With a sad smile, I return his nod. I should expect her to not be happy because she had picked out the very dress that I’m wearing. My dad leaves me to it, and I close my door, kicking off the heels and removing the dress and tights. Once dressed in my fitted leather trousers, black blouse and my chucking boots, I look in the mirror as I slide my arms into the sleeves of my black leather jacket, feeling as if Sketch is helping me into it himself, and breathe in the smell of leather. Now I’m ready.
I walk down the stairs, smiling at my dad as he greets me at the bottom. My mother is talking with my Aunt June and another couple of Old Ladies. All of my family are here, along with the girls and basically most of the members from the club.
My dad leans over to me and whispers. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thanks dad.” I whisper back, just as my mother spots me and rushes over.
Her eyes widen when she notices what I’m wearing. “Drew! Where’s the dress I picked out for you?”
I look down at my leathers and wrap my jacket around me tighter. “This feels right.”
“And she looks perfect.” My dad adds. “Doesn’t she Laura?”
My mother stands tall, and I see she wants to fight me on this but she surprisingly lets it go. She places a hand on my shoulder, leaning closer to give me a kiss on the cheek. “The car will be here in a minute.” She informs me.
The girls then wander over, all greeting me and praising me on what I’m wearing. Elise and Lauren are wearing black dresses similar to the one I have laying on the bedroom floor upstairs, but Tasha is wearing leather trousers, similar to mine but with a black blazer jacket and heels and Maci is wearing a black skirt paired with knee high boots and a pretty, black jumper. All of them look perfect in their individual way and I love having them close by. I need them today.
I glance out my parents front window and see a shit ton of bikers standing beside their motorcycles.
“They’re all here for him.” Grim speaks behind me. I didn’t even notice him approaching.
I look behind at him, offering my big brother a smile. “I appreciate it.”
My mother then comes over to us, informing me that they’re all ready to start travelling to the funeral. I see the way she glances at my outfit, yet again but I choose to ignore her. I look back out the window and shake my head.
“I’m not going with you guys.” Lauren’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“What?” My mother gasps. “You need to come to the funeral.”
I sigh. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going, I said that I’m not coming with you.” I look to my dad. “I want Sketch’s bike.”
My dad smiles. “Already had it brought here for you baby.”
I run over to him and throw my arms around him. My dad squeezes me right back, planting a fatherly kiss on my head and when I look up at him, his eyes show his tears. I break away, not bothering to look at anyone else as I exit the house. I can feel people’s stares, but I ignore them as I search for Sketch’s motorcycle. Sketch loved his bike and I would always joke that he loved the damn thing more than me, but luckily for him I know what the machine meant to him because I’ve grown up around them. I watched my dad, uncle and club members riding around on their bikes, so when my brothers began to learn how to ride, I did too. As I got older, I wasn’t really bothered as much as my brothers, but when I met Sketch I reunited my love of bikes. We would often ride together and they were some of the happiest times of my life.
I spot Sketch’s motorcycle around the side of the house, and take a moment to adjust. I’m alone here. Out of sight from everyone, so I’m comfortable enough to let go of my emotions. I haven’t seen the bike since Sketch’s death and it feels as though it shouldn’t be here. As if it was a part of Sketch and should be with him, at his side. Looking at it here, at my parents’ house just feels wrong. I slowly approach the bike, running my fingers along the polished black and greys. Moments that Sketch and I shared flood back and I let the tears fall. I swing my leg over the wild machine, settling myself onto the seat. I’ve never been on this bike without Sketch and that’s what begins to make me cry. Thankfully my dad decided to hide the bike away at the side of the property because I don’t hold my tears back. All morning I’ve been holding them in and I was almost feeling numb because of it, but now that I’m sat on Sketch’s bike, without him, it’s too much to fucking cope with. I take a deep breath, trying to collect myself as I lean forward and take hold of the handles, almost feeling Sketch behind me. How we used to sit here together and I try to remember how it would feel when Sketch would hold me from behind. It’s probably only been a couple of weeks since the last time we sat on his bike together but now as I try to remember how he felt behind me, I begin to cry again when I can’t fucking remember.
“Hey.” Devlin’s voice makes me jump and I quickly try to wipe at my eyes. “No, don’t bother pretending Dee.” He scolds.
I let my arms drop, and look down at the bike between my thighs. “Is mum mad?”
Devlin walks over. “She’ll understand that you have to do this.”
“I hope so.” I sigh. “Because I’m not listening to her shit all day.”
“I’ll give her a warning.” Devlin offers. I love my mother to bits, but she can get into my business too much. She did calm down, because I was settled with Sketch and my mum adored him, but now that he’s gone, she’s quickly showing signs of the overbearing parent again. She wants to believe that I’m her well behaved, perfect little girl, which we all know I’m not. It’s why I had to hide my tattoos from her. My brothers and my dad get me, but my mum struggles because she can’t let go of her vision of me in a pretty dress and hanging onto her every word. If I was more like Elise, she would be happy.
“Thanks.” I smile. My big brother pats me on the back and I know he wants to say something caring, but he probably knows that I’m hanging on by a thread. Instead, he steps back as I pull on my helmet and turn on the bike, revving the mean sounding engine. I hear the rumble of more bikes and Devlin looks to the direction of where all the other men are waiting, I feel their rumbling support.
Devlin gives me a head nod, before leaving and I follow slowly behind him. I see my family at the front of the house. The women getting into the cars as the men all sit on their bikes. My dad signals to me as he spots me, indicating he wants a word. Devlin approaches his own motorcycle, so I’m able to get by him.
“You ride beside me baby girl.” My dad demands and I’m so glad he can’t see my tears under the helmet. “Nod once if you’re gonna agree with me.”
I nod once, letting him know I’m on board. I would never pass this up, riding alongside my dad, the president of the Kings of Rebellion MC is a huge honour. I don’t even think my brothers have had the privilege. I wait for my dad to ready himself, and follow his bike as he takes the lead. Ahead of all the motorcycles and the cars, me and my father ride side by side towards my man’s funeral.
As the wind hits me and lifts the ends of my hair that escape the helmet, I breathe vengeance. I send a promise to Sketch, a plan of how I will torture the man who took him from me. I want to hunt the bastard down and end his worthless life. I want to stand above him and watch the life drain from his very bones as his disgusting blood trickles down his throat. The very image calms me slightly, so I’m able to face this shit day and cope with the loss of the man I love.
***
My eyes are raw, red and puffy but I feel better for letting it all out. I had the comfort of my whole family whilst I watched Sketch lower to the ground. The words everyone spoke were beautiful but when it was my turn to stand in front of everyone, beside Sketch’s coffin, I was so overwhelmed I couldn’t say a single word. Lauren came to stand beside me and helped me say what I needed. I didn’t have it written down because I wanted to speak from the heart, but after hearing what Lauren had to say about Sketch, I held onto her hand and was able to get through it.
I’m still driving around on Sketch’s bike. My parents are most likely worried but I needed some space before I went to the clubhouse. I rode beside my dad again, but as soon as we got near the building I rode off, away from them all. My dad could have followed me, but he left me to it, which I’m sure my mother will be screwing at by now.
After noticing that I’ve been riding around for an hour, I decide to head back to my family and as soon as I’m in the gates, my mother runs out to me. I prepare myself for her disappointed words but as I remove my helmet and stand from the bike, her arms wrap around me.
“Where have you been?” She sighs. “I’ve been so worried.”
I manage to place the helmet on top of the bike seat whilst my mother’s arms are securing me, but that’s only because I’m right next to the motorcycle. “I just needed some space.”
She pulls back, holding me at arm’s length as her eyes scan me. “Are you ok now?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I ever will be.”
“Oh baby.” She smooths down my hair and kisses my forehead. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” My mum takes hold of my hand and leads me inside.
Within minutes of stepping inside, I’m surrounded by family, club members and their old ladies. They tell me they love me, and that they’re so sorry and even though I’m grateful for their kind words, I’d rather be alone. After Duke passes on his own condolences, he turns and I make my escape. I spy Lauren and the rest of the girls sitting at a table so I head on over to them.
“Please save me.” I beg them, taking a seat between Maci and Tasha.
“They all love you.” Elise points out.
“I know that, but there’s only so much I can take.” I bury my face in my hands. “I just wanna be alone right now.”
“Seeing you on Sketch’s bike was lovely.” Maci adds, and I lift my head from my hands to look at her.
“It felt right.” I smile at her. “Was my mum still mad in the car?”
“Not really.” Tasha answers. “She was really quiet.”
“I think she just wanted to watch over you.” Lauren reaches out and places her hand over mine on the table.
Maci and Tasha leave the table to fetch us all some food, they ask if I want anything in particular but I’m not really feeling hungry.
“Get a bit of everything.” Lauren instructs them and I’m glad she did because when the girls come back carrying two plates each, piled high with a bit of everything from the buffet I’m suddenly feeling very hungry. Lauren flashes me a knowing smile as I reach for an egg sandwich but I dive in anyway. It’s pretty obvious to the girls that I am, in fact very hungry so Tasha goes to fetch another couple of plates between us all. Once I’ve eaten most of it just to myself, I’m ready to go.
“So you were hungry?” Laughs Lauren.
I manage a smile in return. “I guess, I haven’t really eaten this past week.”
“Not surprising.” Maci adds.
We talk a little bit between us, and we get onto the funeral. The girls begin to make comments about how pretty the church looked today and we’re lucky to have had dry weather, but I don’t make any comments. I stand from my seat, gathering the motorcycle keys from my pocket. “I’m going to get going girls.”
They all stand with me, shocked that I’m going now but they don’t question it. Another reason why I love my friends so fucking much.
“Call me if you need me.” Lauren whispers when she cuddles me goodbye and I nod in answer.
I promise them all that I will call them if I need them and I manage to get outside the clubhouse without being stopped. I’m just about to put on my helmet, when the sound of my mother’s voice stops me.
“You’re going already?”
I turn around to face her. “I’m going home, I can’t be around anyone right now mum.”
Her mouth opens to say something, but then she changes her mind and decides to not say whatever she was planning to. My mother closes her mouth, taking a deep breath as she nods. “Ok baby, you do what you need to do.” She envelopes me in a motherly hold. “If you need me, please call me.”
“I will.” I lean down to kiss her when she lets me go. “I promise.”
I put on the helmet and my mother doesn’t move at all while I get on the bike and begin to leave the clubhouse. I do plan on going back to my parents, but without thinking I drive towards my apartment. When I park up, there is a second where I panic because I haven’t got the keys, but I then look at Sketch’s bike keys and there’s a spare.
I begin to feel nervous as I get closer to the front door, so much so that I begin to feel sick. I unlock the door and carefully step inside. It’s so quiet. I look around as I enter, I haven’t been back here since Sketch died. I take in the kitchen as I pass, smiling at the dining table and remembering the last time Sketch and I were sat there together. Laughing and eating. I step towards my bedroom, staying in the doorway and not entering, I just want to observe first. Everything is where either Sketch or I left it on that very morning. Maci has been here by herself since I’ve been staying at my parents and told me she hasn’t been in my bedroom. She wanted to leave it as it was for me and because of that, some of Sketch’s shirts are on the bed where he last left them. I quickly approach, the amount of times I told him to throw them in the laundry hamper after wearing them instead of throwing them on the bedroom floor or our bed, but right now I’m grateful he never did. I pick one up and clutch it tightly, breathing in his scent and the tears explode from my throat.
“I will kill the bastard who killed you.” I declare, sobbing as I fall to the bed. “I fucking promise you Sketch.”
I don’t know if it’s because I’m wishing to feel close to Sketch here at the apartment or not, but I do. As soon as I stepped through the front door I felt as if he were here, comforting me. I curl up on the bed, gripping the shirt close to me. This is where I slept beside Sketch every night, had amazing sex and made love, many times over. I look at the spot where Sketch would usually sleep and clutch the shirt closer. I would do anything to have him with me, right here and now but this is my awful reality. When I begin to calm down a bit, I undress and pull one of Sketch’s shirt over my head. This is the closest I’m going to feel to him ever again and the thought makes my heart hurt. I clutch at my chest, wanting to rip my heart out so I don’t have to live through this pain, because I will never love again.