Preppy, The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part TWO (King)(9)

“Before you guys say anything else, I’m going to suggest an edit,” I said.

“A what?” King asked.

I held up a finger. “Just follow me for a second. Instead of tip-toeing around the subject by saying when I ‘was gone’ and instead of stating the obvious, like referring to it as ‘that time I was held against my will and tortured to the verge of death over and over again at the hands of a psychopath’, I’m recommending we switch it up a tad bit.”

“Okaaay...”

“As much as I’d never like to think or speak of it again it’s just not f*cking realistic. And since it’s f*cking impossible to just NOT talk about it when so much of what is going on in my life right has to do with shit that happened while I was...in Narnia.”

“You’ve got to be f*cking kidding me. You want us to refer to your time in a hole under the MC as Narnia?”

“Yep, that’s what I said.”

King started to mumble which made me realize that someone was missing, a very big very shirtless someone.

“Where the f*ck is Bear?” I made a move to sit up but my wrists were unable to support my weight to successfully make the transition. King bent over and lifted me up under my armpits, adjusting me into a much more comfortable slightly reclined position.

Neither King nor Doe answered my question. Instead, they looked at each other like they were having some sort of telepathic unspoken conversation that I wasn’t to have any part of.

“What?” I asked, “I mean, where the f*ck could Bear be that’s more important? Unless of course he’s out getting the hookers and blow, in which case, I might make a small exception.”

“I’m right here, motherf*cker,” Bear grumbled as he came into view, standing on the other side of Doe. I didn’t know if he’d been there the entire time or if he’s just arrived. Either way one thing was clear to me right off the bat.

“All this time...” I said. “And you still couldn't find a motherf*cking shirt?”

Bear snickered and placed his hand over my forearm in the same way he always shook hands with the bikers in his club. “Welcome back, brother.”

Doe and King shifted over to grant Bear more access to me. He knelt down and leaned over the bed. I missed the easy launch of insults between us. I missed everything about the stupid f*cker, even that stupid quirky smile the chicks always seemed to dig. Even the way he looked as if he was always pissed even if he wasn’t.

Although a LOT of the times he was.

I opened my eyes as wide as I could and took in my old friend’s appearance for the first time in god knows how long. He looked exactly how I remembered physically, blond hair, matching blond beard, tattoos, bright blue eyes, freckles, leather cut.

But in another way he looked different.

VERY different.

Happier, maybe?

No f*cking way...

Seeing Bear happy was as likely as spotting a yeti in the backyard. Something I had to see to believe.

I couldn’t dwell on the notion for too long because in a fraction of a second it all started to change. Bear’s face morphed like a Dali painting. My smile faded from my lips as the image of my friend melted away and became something else.

SOMEONE else.

It was no longer Bear smiling down at me, happy to see his long lost friend. No, it was someone with deeper lines on his forehead and a permanent scowl on his lips. Someone who’s blond hair had changed to gray and whose freckles had faded with time. His blue eyes were no longer bright and held no signs of loyalty or brotherhood behind him.

No sign of life at all.

Bear was gone and pure f*cking evil was in his place.

Blood curdling screams filled the small room, echoing off the walls and through my ears, the familiar and f*cking terrifying sounds of someone being brutally tortured.

My vision blurred and I faded back into the purgatory, grateful for the escape.

It wasn’t until I was fully back into oblivion when I realized that those screams were mine.





CHAPTER FOUR


PREPPY

The dark clouds around my thoughts started to clear. Each time I woke up the horror of what happened and the reality of where I was, separated more and more from one another until I finally realized what my friends were telling me was the truth.

I was free.

I was safe.

I was f*cking ALIVE.

And best of all?

Chop was f*cking dead.

The only thing that pissed me off was that I wasn’t the one to end the cocksucker myself.

The good news was that I was starting to regain some of my strength. The pains in my muscle and bones turned from sharp stabs to dull aches.

The gunshot wound Chop never allowed to fully heal was finally closed, although very f*cking angry looking. The skin around it was all twisted up into a kaleidoscope of distorted tattoos around a huge red hurricane shaped scar.

I called it the hurricane of hurt.

I hated what it did to my tattoos, but that massive ugly thing was gonna earn me a shit ton of street cred.

While my body was getting it’s shit together, Doe and King took turns filling me in on the headlines of their lives. All the shit I’d missed like King finally getting custody of Max. I felt as if I was in an episode of Days of our Lives when Doe told me that she had a son who King had adopted, then they had a new baby, AND she finally had her memory back. I was positive they skimmed down on the details of the story, but I was happy with the cliff notes for the time being. And if I really needed to catch up on more details I could just turn on the TV around 2pm because I’m sure their story line was being played out on one of the daytime channels.