CHAPTER SEVEN
Tank
I hated every moment I was in that cabin but at the same time, it gave me the space I needed. I hated that everywhere I turned I not only thought of my brothers, but I thought of my son as well. All the times that I’d brought him up here. The first time I took him to the lake and taught him how to fish. The damn smile that spread on his face at the first one he actually caught by himself. The nights we’d spent outside long after the sun went down catching fireflies.
Somehow, deep down, I knew coming here would only torture me more. I was trying to run from everything but in the end, the only thing I did was put myself right in the middle of all the memories.
I was trapped in some strange in between. I wasn’t living, yet, I wasn’t dead. I would go into town and bypass everything a normal vacationer would do. But I wasn’t on fucking vacation. I even hated to stop at the local grocery store because food was the furthest thing from my mind, but a couple of times, I found myself running in and grabbing the first thing I could think of. I pretty much just ended up at the rundown liquor store. And every time I went in there, I gathered up as much whiskey as my massive hands could carry, and let me tell you, it was a lot.
I should have been shocked when not four days later I was back at the same store doing the exact same thing, but the vicious cycle of actions kept me from giving two shits. Not even the concerned look plastered on the old man’s face behind the counter made me falter in my mission.
The alcohol only seemed to dull the pain. I could never truly escape it, not even when I was so far gone that all I could do was close my eyes and pass out. Somehow in my sleep my demons still chased me.
My mind was all over the place. My heart was numb and my body felt heavy. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t eat or even bother to bathe. Yeah, I was one stinky, dirty motherfucker. Good thing I didn’t give a fuck and it wasn’t like there was anyone around, anyway.
Hope toyed with me. The doubt that Logan was even in the house had my head spinning. Even though I wasn’t stupid enough to believe it. But there is something about not seeing a body that at the end of the day always made me question things. Things that had no right to be entertained. I knew in my mind that he was gone, that there was simply no way he could have made it out of the house any other way.
With every swallow, every bottle, I tried my best to wash away all the things that haunted me. Though, I felt I didn’t deserve to forget. When I would start to sober, the guilt caught up with me and I blamed myself for the whole thing. It kept coming back to the fact that I didn’t stand up to my brothers when I had the chance.
The what-ifs were always the worst, they were the things that had me tipping the bottle back faster and swallowing harder.
The burn of the whiskey wasn’t enough to make me feel anything. Part of me was desperate to feel alive in some way, but then the other part of me wanted nothing more than to be done and gone. It was those moments that had me questioning what came next. Not next in life, no, next in death. Like, where was my son now? Was he happy? Was he free? Did the sins of the father carry on and he was now living in some circle of Hell paying for all my shit? Was there even a Hell?
And the further I fell into the spiral, I never once tried to catch myself. Because I deserved everything that came my way.
The cabin became my sanctuary and nightmare at the same time. I should have picked someplace else. Headed north or hell, even out west. Somewhere new and clean. But I didn’t make it that far and the current state I was keeping myself in wouldn’t allow me to leave.
It was no surprise that when two weeks or so later two of my brothers showed up knocking on the damn door. As much as I didn’t want to see any of them, I knew I wasn’t exactly hiding. I contemplated on not even answering, but by the time the third round of banging hit the door, I knew there was no getting out of it.
“You look like shit,” Axe said, tone passive like he had made the most obvious statement, as he pushed his way into the cabin.
“Tank,” Loch said taking in my disheveled state with a tiny amount of sadness in his eyes.
I didn’t even try to cover up or make excuses. I lumbered over to the couch and plopped myself in the same spot that now had my ass imprint permanently etched on it. They could say whatever they wanted, it didn’t mean I was going to listen. I knew it was just better to not fight it and let them get it off their chests. Then it would be done and they could go back home feeling like they’d done something about the situation.
“Your mom’s worried. I told her I’d come check on you,” Loch said, his arms crossed over his chest and his look attempted to penetrate through my drunken state.
“Yeah, I know. She’s called me every day.” And she had.
At first, she’d called every hour, sent me too many text messages to count, and left so many voicemails I was sure my inbox was full. Not that I had responded or even checked any of them. I had become the shittiest son ever. I knew she was worried and yet, I did nothing to ease that.
“Look, she’s not doin’ good, kid,” Loch said and I almost snorted at being called a kid. I hadn’t been a kid for a long time but then again, he was older than me by a good ten years. “With your sister still gone and now you won’t even talk to her, she’s fallin’ apart. She hasn’t heard from Darcy. She called your mom and told her she was takin’ off and that was the last time anyone has spoken to her.”
That should have sobered me up. It wasn’t like Darcy to do something like that. But then again, I understood it completely. Only she had been smart enough to leave her shit behind and go someplace where no one could find her. If she’d just taken off and not told anyone I might have been a bit more worried. I might have even pushed all my shit aside to search for her. But the fact that she called Mom to let her know, led me to believe she just wanted to be alone. Much like I did.
“Tell her I’m fine,” I said knowing I was the exact opposite of that.
“No, you’re not. You’re a fuckin’ mess, man. I get it, you need time. I know. But listen to me when I say this, you don’t have to go down this road alone. We are fuckin’ here for you.” If I wasn’t mistaken there was a hint of disgust in Loch’s tone. I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that I was a mess or the that I had turned my back on all those that cared about me. “Clean yourself up. And for fuck’s sakes, take a damn shower.”
“Does Mom know I’m here?” I asked wanting to know if I should brace myself for a hysterical visit soon.
“No,” Loch said. A long minute passed like he was thinking really hard about something. “And I won’t tell her you’re here if you do one thing for me.”
Fuck that.
I wanted to tell him to take a hike, that I wasn’t doing shit, but the thought of having to deal with my mom had me nodding my head.
“Fine. What?” I barked. My voice was gravelly, a combination of too much booze intake and not talking for so long. And not to mention the lingering effects of smoke inhalation. The air burned my throat as I spoke and I wished I had something to swallow down, but I knew reaching for a bottle of whiskey at that moment wouldn’t be a smart thing to do.
“Once a week I want you to take your ass out of this house and do somethin’. And, no, drivin’ to the liquor store to get more booze don’t count. Go to the fuckin’ grocery store, buy some food. Hell, go shoppin’ at one of those places that sell that damn cheesy tourist shit. I don’t care. But get out of this house and around people. Breathe some damn fresh air. Just one day is all I ask.”
That was the stupidest shit I’d ever heard. What the hell good was that going to do me? But I gave in, knowing that I didn’t actually have to interact with anyone while I was out. He didn’t say I had to. My lips pressed into a thin line as I gave a firm nod.
I looked over to Axe, who’d been quiet the entire time.
“Fine, one day a week.” How hard could it be? I could go to the store, pick up some frozen pizzas and call it a damn day.
Loch headed for the door, passing an unmoved Axe on the way. I was maybe the smallest bit curious as to what he had to add. He’d had his own struggles to deal with in life. I knew all about them and while he wasn’t even close to being normal, he had his ways to work through his darkness. He seemed to have come out pretty level headed considering all the crap he went through as a kid before Cal found him.
“Find a way to get through this.” His jaw clenched tight and I knew that was all he had to say.
I couldn’t ignore the slight plea in his tone. It was unusual for him and I knew that he was telling me that I meant more to him than most. Hell, we were more than just MC brothers. I knew it but I’d never seen just how much my friendship meant to him until those words passed his lips.
“I’m tryin’.” But I really wasn’t and I hated lying to him, but I just couldn’t take anything else at the moment. I didn’t need the burden of his sadness weighing on mine.
“See ya soon, brother,” he said, back to his normal, flat tone. I nodded and he was out the door and I was left alone surrounded in a heavy silence.
I flopped back on the couch and let sleep take me under. Their visit had been exhausting even though they hadn’t been there that long.
Days passed, in a blur. The air in the cabin got stale and the stench of trash and alcohol mixed with whatever funk coated my body. I wasn’t going to try and glorify it, I was downright disgusting.
My phone rang and my mom’s picture filled the screen. I stared down at it as a tear made its way out of my eye. As miserable as I was, I wanted to hear her voice but I knew I wasn’t ready. So when the picture dimmed letting me know the call had gone to voicemail, I set my phone down on the coffee table.
I had no idea why I even kept charging the damn thing. I should have just let it die and then I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. I wouldn’t have to feel like I was being stabbed in the heart with tiny knives every time she called. The only thing I could come up with was that I needed to torture myself a little more.
I stumbled into the bathroom with all intentions of taking a piss and going back out to the couch but I caught my reflection in the mirror above the sink and paused. I’d lost weight, not eating would do that to you. My fingers rubbed over the odd patches in my beard. The places that had been burned, the hair had grown in white and I had no idea how bad the skin looked under the hair growth. I knew how my arms and side looked, so I could only imagine how bad my face was. I should have considered myself lucky that it only burned my jaw, a place that I could keep covered by a beard. And it wasn’t like I ever shaved anyway. I had been a big guy with a big beard pretty much since I’d been able to grow facial hair. However, I usually kept it clean and trimmed just right. Now it was just a mess. It hadn’t been tended to in over three months.
My hair wasn’t much better. Now past my shoulders, the strands looked stringy and the color looked dull. Fuck, I did look like shit.
I had no idea what made me climb into the shower, but once I was in there I figured I might as well make use of the damn thing. Stripping out of my clothes, I turned on the water. The spray of the shower’s lukewarm spray felt good on my filmy skin. I reached for the stray body wash that had been left there by god knows who. Then again, it could have been me. Out of everyone else I was the one who used this place the most. Somehow I found myself energized by the mix of citrus and cedar scent that permeated the steam around me. As I ran the suds over my left arm I felt the dry, rigid skin with my fingertips. It was odd how I didn’t really feel the touch of my fingers as it grazed over the scarred flesh. The urge to give in and just scratch the shit out of it hit me, but I knew better. It wasn’t going to do me any good. The doctor’s warning rang out in my head and for just a moment, I gave a damn. I didn’t want to make it worse and I wondered if it would always feel this way.
I rinsed off, using the same soap to clean my hair. I was hoping that I would step out and feel like a new man, but I didn’t. The same heaviness that plagued me when I got in still weighted me down. Nothing had changed. While I was a cleaner and better smelling version of my self, it hadn’t transformed anything on the inside. I wondered if I would ever find a way out of this Hell. Not that I deserved to.
Why couldn’t it have been me instead? Why couldn’t I have been the one in that house? In my mind, I made up scenarios where I was there and Logan was at my mom’s house or staying the night with one of my sisters. He spent the night away from home often enough that I wondered why it had to happen on that one night. The one night when he was there, sleeping in his bed, peacefully.
Then I got angry. Angry that Diesel had saved me, that he had risked his life to pull me out of the rubble that I was trapped under. Not that I remembered any of it, but I heard all about it after I woke up because my mom wouldn’t let me forget that he was the one that had saved my life. While she saw it as a blessing, I saw it as a curse and I wanted to hate him. Only I couldn’t. In the end, it was myself that I hated and I no longer wanted to keep going.