Vicious Cycle (Vicious Cycle #1)(72)
Something scratched my legs, momentarily bringing me out of my trance. When I gazed down, Walter peered up at me, whining repeatedly. For a moment, I could only stare at him. It was like my arms ignored the message my brain was sending out. Finally, I managed to reach down and pick him up.
As I buried my face in his soft fur, my emotions finally thawed into a raw agony. Silent tears slipped from my eyes to dampen Walter’s back. My chest felt like a watch that had been wound too tight. I wanted desperately to let go of the consuming emotions, but no matter how hard I silently wept, I couldn’t find any relief. When my cries turned over to sobs, the pain raged through my chest so savagely, it felt like I was burning from the inside out.
When the last of the flames had finally been put out, there was little left that resembled the former duplex. Smoke still rose from the smoldering ashes. In a way it represented how the world around me now felt—blackened, devastated, in ruins. As I surveyed the expressions of those who had become my family, it seemed they were feeling the same way.
Two firemen brought me out of my thoughts as they walked past me. “When do you think they’ll clear us to go inside to look for the bodies?” the younger asked.
The older grunted. “Son, that wasn’t no hot water heater blowing up. It was an explosion caused by a bomb. That, coupled with the temperature of the fire it causes, and you ain’t gonna find shit. They’ll be lucky if they even have a pile of ashes to put in an urn.”
My hand flew to my mouth to muffle both my scream and the bile that rose in my throat. The older fireman cut his gaze over to me. His expression turned apologetic. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I shouldn’t have said that where you could hear.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t respond. After all, what does one say in this situation? My mind couldn’t even begin to wrap itself around the idea that Deacon was alive inside the clubhouse less than half an hour ago. Now he was gone, reduced to nothingness. In the end, my protector couldn’t save himself. The one place where he felt safe had somehow been breached. I didn’t have to wonder who had done this. Sigel had finally come for his revenge, and he’d struck a devastating blow to the Raiders by taking out its president and sergeant at arms.
After the fire chief spoke to the crowd in a low tone, I watched as Rev wrapped his arms around Beth’s shoulders, trying to console her. But I could hear her anguished wails from where I was. Bishop stood by, placing a hand on his mother’s back. Despite Mac and Boone’s efforts, Kim’s body went limp, and she collapsed onto the ground. Just when I thought she had passed out, she began to pound her fists into the ground. “NOOOOO!” she screamed.
As the other members of the Raiders consoled one another, I’d never felt more alone in my life. Even though I could have reached out to them for comfort, I knew all too well how isolating grief truly was. You could be in a room full of people yet still be all alone in your own private hell. Cradling Walter to my chest, I turned and walked into the empty roadhouse, which was silent as a tomb.
I momentarily paused in front of the chair where Deacon had been sitting. I ran my free hand over the top rung, imagining his strong back pressed against it. If I closed my eyes, I could almost see him there, almost smell his scent still lingering in the air. Craning my ear, I tried desperately to hear his voice in the void.
With nothing but emptiness surrounding me, I made my way back to his room. I closed the door and then trudged across the floor. Taking my cell phone off the nightstand, I actually had the presence of mind to text my principal that I wouldn’t be coming in tomorrow. The truth was I didn’t know when I would go back—if I even could. I’d picked up the pieces of a shattered life once before. Even though it had made me stronger, I wasn’t resilient. I didn’t know if I could come back from this.
Collapsing down on the bed, I wrapped myself in the blanket that smelled overwhelmingly of him. Walter burrowed to my side, and I welcomed the comfort of his presence. Closing my eyes, I willed myself to sleep—to escape from the nightmare of my reality. To slip into an unconsciousness devoid of grief and sorrow. Where you never had to have those you love snatched away from you.
And finally I slipped away.
I was out of breath. My muscles screamed in agony, but I continued running. Dark woods with sinister-looking trees enveloped me. Fear like I’d never known pushed me on. I was running from something, but what, I didn’t know. Images from my past flashed before me like lightning crashing across the sky. My mother handing me a bouquet of bloodred roses at one of my ballet recitals. My father grinning as he pressed the car keys into my eager sixteen-year-old hands. Deacon’s intense dark eyes, a sheen of sweat across his tattooed chest, and his hips flexing at he pumped in and out of me.
Each of the happy memories burst into shards of glass when I ran through them, cutting me with an emotional pain that didn’t seem to touch me physically. I reached the end of the woods only to find myself at the edge of a cliff. Whatever was coming for me grew closer and closer, and without a choice, I leaped off the cliff. As I began to free fall—
With a piercing scream, I bolted upright in bed. I brought a shaky hand to my forehead and swept back the sweat-soaked strands of hair. Clutching my shirt over my heart, I willed myself to breathe normally again. As I became aware of where I was and why I was there, I realized there was no respite. I had just exchanged one nightmare for another.