Chapter 8
Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much,
he died every night to let her breathe.
-Unknown
I’m jeered awake by Twist screaming again, only this time he’s thrashing around violently, covered in a sheen of sweat and you’d swear someone had died in his dreams or something by the way he sounds. He’s always upset when he sleeps, but this is a heartbreaking wail, like a man being ripped in half. I can only hold off for so long before I have to touch him, and attempt to bring him out of it.
Normally I can shake him for a good ten minutes or so before he comes out of it and sometimes he won’t wake at all, just quiet down. I end up having to sit there waiting and watching him being tormented. Tonight he takes me by surprise though, the moment I touch him, Twist’s hardened muscles easily shove me like a little rag doll, causing me to land on the hard ground in a heap.
“Ummph!” I gasp and put my hand to my back where the pain hits me first. “Shit!” I croak in a strangled voice and the next thing I know, Twist is hovering over me, gripping my neck so tightly I can barely choke a word out.
I claw at his hands, gasping for breath, kicking, squirming, anything I can possibly do to get out of his forceful clutch, but it’s even more difficult with my big belly and added weight. I squirm so much that eventually I’m flat on the ground on my back, my tummy on full display, making me freak even more, when survivor mode kicks in. My body gets flooded with adrenaline, gearing up for flight or fight.
There’s no way to really fight him with my size and condition, but I won’t give up, so I start kicking and kneeing him in the nuts over and over until his hands drop away and I can crawl farther from him, panting and weeping, wanting the air to fill my lungs as quickly as possible. Once the reality of what just happened sinks in, the tears flow freely in time with my deep breathing.
He could have killed me. He could have killed my baby.
The room’s deathly silent and when I get enough nerve to pick myself off the floor and approach Twist, he’s peacefully sleeping on the ground as if nothing ever happened. My temper flairs, and without thinking, I pull my foot back and kick him harshly in his stomach. Before I get a peep in, he’s on his feet, wide awake and in my face. I stumble backwards to the wall and he follows me, staying in my face until I’m trapped all over again.
“The fuck you doin?” he barks angrily.
“I-I, I-I.” Stuttering, my eyes fill with tears so much that my vision blurs.
“I, what? Why you bein’ a fuckin’ bitch, kickin’ me an’ shit while I’m sleepin’? You was anyone else, I’d fuck you up right now,” he hisses, his fingers tapping to a beat at his side. I notice he always does this when he’s upset about something.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
The door to the bedroom’s hit so hard it shakes, wanting to blast open.
“Open the fuck up, Twist! You lost your fuckin’ mind, talkin’ to my sister like that!”
I don’t give Twist a chance to respond, shouting at my brother, “It was my fault, Silas! I got irritated and kicked him in the stomach. I’m okay, go to bed.”
“All this is fuckin’ bullshit, Sadie! “he yells through the door and then a moment later I hear his own door slam closed again.
The teardrops fall and the sobs come at me like a train. Twist pulls me into his arms, his chin resting on my head and quietly asks, “You wanna tell me how I fucked up? ‘Cause I’m guessin’ I said or did something wrong,” he rasps, calmer as he kisses my hair.
I shake my head, my tears soaking his shirt. Keeping the truth from him, because if I do, then it doesn’t have to be real. I can pretend it was just my own bad dream.
“Please tell me why you’re cryin’, baby and why my stomach and nuts hurt so fuckin’ bad. I hate seeing you upset like this. You’re too precious to cry.”
I break at his words and inhale a few deep breaths; I let it all spill out about how he was dreaming and then basically attacked me. Once I’m finished, he crowds me into the bathroom, turning on the lights and inspects my throat.
Gazing in the mirror above the sink, the marks are clear. The skin around my neck is an angry red color and already changing to a deeper shade where his hands were.
“I have no words right now,” he mutters, then he says something else, but I swear he isn’t talking to me, so that’s even stranger. He wets a towel with cold water and gently places it in my hands, bringing them to rest on my neck where the marks are.
“Twist, are you okay?” I ask softly, and he blinks, meeting my gaze.
“Am I okay? Sunshine, I just had my hands on you? How can you stand to fuckin’ look at me right now? I’m a fuckin’ piece of shit who deserves to die. I should have died years ago; I don’t get why I was left in this world to harm more people.”
“No, you don’t deserve to die. My God, you weren’t even you when it happened. I swear it was like you were possessed and I couldn’t wake you. I kicked you in your groin over and over to get you to let go until I was about to pass out. I kicked you in your stomach, because you were sleeping perfectly afterwards and I was just so angry inside that it wasn’t affecting you at all. I shouldn’t have kicked you,” I finish and grab some toilet paper for my nose.
“Yeah, you sure the fuck shouldn’t have, you shoulda’ grabbed my Glock and fuckin’ shot my ass. I’ll never forgive myself for touchin’ you like this. I can’t believe I’d hurt somethin’ so precious to me.” He shakes his head, and then rushes past me out of the bathroom, storming out his bedroom door, slamming it on his way out.
A few minutes later I hear his bike fire up, taking off loudly in a rush.
I take a shower to get myself to calm down some, then lie back in our bed and weep for hours until I’m able to cry myself to sleep.
Twist
I’m fuckin’ scum. What a goddamn piece of shit to put my hands like that on a woman—and one I care so much for, at that. I don’t get why I wasn’t allowed to just die years ago; clearly I’m not doing good for anyone here. Why do I have to dream these fucked up things? I just hurt someone very dear to me, and I had absolutely no clue about it until she told me. How can I poison her life like that? I thought I couldn’t stay away, but she doesn’t deserve to live like that—in fear—scared I could choke her to death in the middle of the night.
My ribs burn badly from her kicks, but I deserve every ounce of pain that comes my way after that shit. It seems to be my life’s legacy to fuck shit up with the people I care the most about. I ride until I come to a little piece-of-shit bar on the side of the road, and pull in. Drowning my thoughts in liquor is exactly what I need right now. Maybe I’ll get lucky and someone will kill me tonight, ending my misery altogether.
A few of our Nomads’ bikes are here, so I know it’s a friendly bar to our club. Not that it would matter; I could really go for getting shot right now. I’m so fuckin’ sick of dealin’ with shit. Sadie’s the one thing that’s brought me any kind of joy in such a long time; yet, I’m ruining her. I’ve been sucking all the light out of her. I park the bike and head inside, ready to drink an entire bottle if they’ll allow it.
I can’t stop replaying her words over in my mind, I choked her. I took that sweet, innocent woman’s breath from her and caused her pain. The real kicker is I could have killed her unborn son. Wouldn’t that be my luck, not only my own little girl, but steal away someone else’s as well.
Jesus Christ, I think as I make my way up to the bar and sit on the wood stool.
An older woman with long dark hair and wearing a red tank top comes up to me. “What can I get you?”
“Double rum and coke, with a shot of tequila.”
“Wow, you’re on a mission, huh, sweetie?”
“To drink, not to fuckin’ talk,” I grumble and she scowls at me. I could give a shit less; it gets her to shut up and get my drinks. I’m ready to drown out my entire life in this alcohol.
I throw back five shots, sucking down two drinks in between, ready to make everything fade away when one of the Nomads, Scot, approaches me.
His bushy eyebrows rise. “Aye, laddy, you on a death wish?”
“Yep, somethin’ like that.”
“Is it so bad ye can’t hash it out at the club?”
“They don’t understand me; there’s tension and I ain’t tryin’ to deal with that shit right now.”
He plops his hefty self on the stool next to me. “Whiskey ma’am.” He brushes his red beard through his fingers sending her a small smile.
The bartender nods, quickly filling his order.
“Have ye thought of goin’ solo?”
“Away from my brothers?”
“Aye, son,” the older man nods, peering at me.
Shaking my head, I sip my rum and coke. It’s a good idea though.
“Never let a rift come between you an’ ye brothers, give it some thought, maybe yer best as a Nomad. There’s been talk and ye may fit better with our pack.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Aye, laddy, you do that.” He knocks back the rest of his whiskey, tapping the glass lightly on the bar before setting it close to the edge to be cleaned, and then heads back over to the pool table with his brothers. A few glance my way sending chin lifts, which I return with a minute nod.
NOMAD.
I’ve never paid it any mind before, but maybe that’s exactly what I need, to be away from the club- away and Sadie. I’d hung out with them a little in the past and was hoping to head on a run with them anyhow. I’m guessin’ by ol’ Scot’s words, they would vote me in? I know they’re a fucked up group of misfits, and I probably wouldn’t stand out so much around them.
When they’ve been around the club, they’ve pretty well kept to themselves, but help out when called upon. They’re much more aggressive and violent, which fits me fairly well, as I clearly have anger issues. It would keep me from hurtin’ Sadie or her baby boy again. I need to bring this up to the Prez and see what he thinks, if he would even approve the transfer.
At that, I chuck back another shot, wanting nothing more than to make my thoughts from earlier disappear. Each time a whore peers in my direction or approaches me, I tell her she’s a bitch and to get lost. They think I’m being hateful, but they don’t realize I’m probably saving their lives.
Just like I need to leave and save Sadie’s life, no matter how much it will kill me to stay away. She deserves more; Sadie deserves the best. And, unfortunately, that isn’t me.
***
I wake to the hot sun beating down on my back and my mind throbbing, aching from all the alcohol I consumed the night prior. Picking my head up, a few pebbles fall from my face and I crack my eyes open to discover I’m laid out on the side of the bar in the parking lot next to my bike. I have gravel indentions all over my hands and I can feel them digging into my thighs as well.
I have no idea how in the fuck I ended up out here. I got so piss-ass drunk last night; I remember sitting at the bar drinking, then it all goes black afterwards.
I reach to my back pocket, patting around. Yep, still have my wallet. Not that I ever carry much on me anyhow, but at least it’s still there.
Attempting to stand, my foot gets stabbed about twenty times so I plop back down, dumping the rocks out of my boot. How in the fuck they ended up there, is no tellin’, unless I was dragged over here. That would explain it.
Stumbling the few paces over to my bike, I dig through my saddlebags, looking for my cocaine, only to come up empty. Some fuck took my coke outta here. Why are people always taking my shit?
Wish I knew who it was so I could teach them a little lesson about stealing, especially from a biker. They’d be lucky if I didn’t pull some medieval shit and chop their hand off, like I threatened that prospect not too long ago. Stupid fuckers.
I’m sure there’s some sort of shit storm waitin’ for me back at the club. It wouldn’t faze me if 2 Piece is on a warpath to slit my throat after the shit I pulled with Sadie baby last night. I can’t blame him, I kinda wanna take a knife to my jugular myself.
I load up on my loaner bike, the loud rev making my head pound even more.
Come on Daddy, pwease.
My daughter’s voice coaxes and it make me lean over the side retching up about a liter’s worth of alcohol and mixed drinks, knowing I would never be like this if she were here. I hate having her see me like this; she should be resting peacefully, not hanging on to me.
“I-I’m so sorry about this,” I utter pathetically, expelling more from my stomach, trying not to get it on my jeans.
Don’t be sad, Daddy.
“Please just move on with your momma; I don’t deserve you,” I choke out, spitting a few times.
I wipe my mouth and rev the engine multiple times, trying to drive her away from witnessing me lose myself. I could never be the father she needed. I didn’t deserve them, just like I don’t with Sadie and her son.
On that thought, I let off the brake slowly, making my way out of the gravel lot and take off for the clubhouse.
***
Surprisingly, the brothers and Sadie give me the space I need, so for a week I have the same routine, I sleep next to the bar, go to subway to eat a sandwich and then I’m back at the bar again. Midway through the week, I give in, buying a new pair of jeans, T-shirt, toothpaste and get a hotel to shower. It’s rough, but I make it.
After the week’s over with, along with my help on a late night excursion, I’m called back to the club for church.