Saving Dancer (Savage Brothers MC #2)(18)

You don’t go through shit and get stronger. That is a lie. You go through shit and lose parts of yourself. Whole f*cking pieces, which leave holes so big, so mind-blowingly huge that for people to even say you’ll be stronger? It is complete and utter bullshit.

So that’s where I find myself tonight. Sitting in my car, perched on the edge of a dam. Letting the darkness surround me, letting it cover me and the only friend I have in the world. I look at the empty bottle in my hand. Well scratch that, just me. Seems I’ve drank the last of my friend.

If I were stronger, I would have driven off the edge of this concrete monster and sunk to the bottom of Laurel Lake. This is not the first time I’ve been here. It’s not the first time I’ve thought of ending it all, it’s more like the millionth time. This is something that I have faced every day since I stepped out of the doors of the Federal Prison in West Liberty.

It’s not something that ever leaves my brain. It’s always here. I’ll be driving down the road on my bike enjoying the feel of the cool air on my body when bam, a memory hits. A memory so dark it chokes me. Another vehicle, or even better a coal truck will go by and my hand shakes with the need to cut in front of it.

It would be deemed an accident. Everyone would write it off as if there was a vehicle malfunction or if I had fallen asleep…no one would know I was just another coward too tired to keep moving, too worn out to keep fighting against the current.

What has stopped me up to this point is fear. I am scared. Scared that I’d somehow f*ck this up too. Somehow it wouldn’t kill me, I’d be stuck a vegetable and trapped with nothing but my memories for the rest of my life.

I lean back against the seat of the SUV I’m driving. How long have I been here now? An hour? Two? Time doesn’t really register when you’re this far down into hell and the Devil is calling your name. I keep seeing Carrie and her face when I pushed her away, when I hurt her. The fear, the pain and even worse than both of those, was the love. I could always see the love in her eyes. Even before she told me how she felt. It was f*cked up that I wanted it, needed it. It was even more f*cked up that I kept running away from it and every time I did, bad things happened.

It would be better for her if I wasn’t here. She’d be able to forget me and with the way my brother seems to care about her, they’d be happy. Bull would give her everything I wanted to, but couldn’t. She’d be happy. I want her happy. If I do this it’d give her peace.

I’ve tried blaming her for what happened to me. Truthfully there is no one to blame but myself. I did this. I did it all. Dragon is right. I should have kept my head. I knew better. Fuck, I should have never turned Carrie down to begin with. If I had held her, given her the kiss she wanted, kept her in my arms, then none of this would have happened. It’s all on me. I’m the maker of my own demons. I’m the sole party responsible. I can’t keep lashing out at her, at any one. At the same time, I can’t be the man I once was. That man is dead. He died that night in prison when he was held down and violated against his will. He is not me. Me? I’m just left over residue—the scum that’s left in the strainer when you let the water out of the sink.

I start the vehicle and stare over the water. Laurel Lake brings back so many good memories. Memories of when life was simpler, quieter and happier. Memories of when Jazz was alive and my days were spent watching over her and Carrie, memories of parties with my brothers and just being free.

It seems a good place to let it all go, to let it all just fade away. That’s the last thought I have before I release the park break, jam it into drive and lay on the gas.





Chapter 9




Carrie


Again I ask myself why I can’t be attracted to Bull. Jacob is an ass. Bull played doctor with my leg, and then he demanded I watch television with him. After popping popcorn, we sit down and watch a Rock Hudson and Doris Day movie. Now I’m sure Bull hates every minute of the movie, but old movies make me giggle and it makes me happy.

“You doing okay, Red?”

I look over to find him staring at me. Bull may not talk much, but I get the feeling he sees a lot more than most do.

“It’s just been a rough day.”

“I should teach him a lesson. You should have let me.”

I sighed. I didn’t want to get started on that again.

“Just let it go. I told you it was an accident.”

“And I told you I didn’t believe it.”

“Tough noodles.”

“Noodles?” Bull asks with a grin.

I shrug, “They can be pretty tough if you don’t cook them, or you know don’t cook them enough.”

He shakes his head and turns back to the television.

“I think I was born in the wrong decade,” I say without meaning to really. It’s just that the silence is a little strained.

“How so?”

“The fifties look so much better. Man wanted woman. Man got woman. Happy ever after.”

“Life isn’t like the movies, Red.”

“Maybe it was in the fifties,” I insist, knowing I am being silly.

“In that case we’re all screwed.”

“Why’s that?”

“Have you watched The Thing? Invasion of the Body Snatchers? War of the Worlds? The Blob?”