Revelations (Tattoos & Tears Book 2)

by Amiee Louise

  "Baby, please, you have to help me, Sam, please. Oh God, baby, please," she pleads.

  I clench my fists at my sides, and a tortured sob is ripped from my throat. The boys step away from their instruments, and all three of them are at my side in seconds.

  "Fuck," Brody mutters quietly, and they all place their hands reassuringly on my shoulders.

  "Sam, please, baby, I love you," she whispers, and the big blue eyes that I love so much look so wide with fear it tears me open inside. From the corner of my eye, I see Cole talking rapidly and frantically into his headset.

  "Sam, he is going to kill us, baby. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

  She sobs hysterically and a shadowy figure steps slowly behind her. I notice that the figure is hooded and is unrecognisable. The figure lifts up an arm, and the large glistening blade of the combat knife he is brandishing is pressed against her delicate throat.

  "No! No! No!" I shout. The camera focuses on her eyes now, wide and full of tears.

  "Sam, I love you," she sobs, and a blood-curdling scream is torn from her as the figure grabs her hair roughly, so she is staring straight at the camera lens. It feels like she is staring straight into my soul, as I hear myself whimper.

  “Dear God, please no.”

  In one swift movement, the figure reverses the blade and plunges it into her chest. Then the screen goes black, and the entire audience goes from silent to a loud audible gasp. That's when I break. I wail and sob hysterically, the love of my life killed on a large screen for everyone to see. A loud voice fills the P.A system.

  "If you could all remain calm and make your way to the exits in an orderly fashion, thank you."

  I am not aware of what is going on around me, just the image on the screen playing on a loop inside my head. The tears are flowing freely now, and I feel like my heart has been ripped clean from my chest. My whole world has crashed down around me. I can't breathe, my brain is foggy, tears blur my vision, and my lungs are refusing to cooperate.

  "Sam?" Cole's deep rumbling voice interrupts my inner turmoil. "Sam, come on, mate, let us get you backstage."

  The boys help me to my feet, and I am grateful for their support. Somehow, I manage to make my way backstage, and I am in total shock.

  “Sam? Sam? Sam?” Brody’s voice breaks through my foggy thoughts. “Sit down, man; I’ll get you a drink.”

  In those few seconds, I go from total shock and disbelief, to boiling rage. A white-hot rage surfaces and consumes every part of me.

  “You should have been watching her! All this is your fucking fault! My Peyton is dead because of you!” I bellow, and my fist connects with Cole’s jaw. He holds his hands up to stop me, but a look of guilt crosses his face. “This is all your fault! How fucking hard was it for you to keep your god damn eyes on her! I fucking trusted you to protect her!” I shout, not registering my actions, and I am trembling with rage.

  Cole is a couple of inches taller than I am, he did two tours of Iraq while he was in the military and he is an ex-cop. He also works out like a beast, so he knows a thing or two about fighting and how to handle himself. I cock my fist back to hit him again, but this time he restrains me by twisting my arms around my back and pinning me face forward to the wall.

  “Calm the fuck down, Sam,” Cole says in his deep baritone voice. I lean my head on the wall and take a few calming breaths, even though deep down I feel anything but calm.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, and Cole releases me from his grip.

  “For fuck’s sake, Sam, none of this is Cole’s fault! Now isn’t the time to start placing blame,” Jax says sharply. I sit down on the sofa, running my hands frantically through my hair and wondering what the fuck I am going to do now.

  18

  Sam

  The next few weeks pass by in a blur. Peyton’s body hasn’t been found, and there are no suspects, so the FBI investigation has ground to a halt. After the gig at the Mandalay Bay Events Centre, the FBI questioned me and the other band members for hours. Those hours seemed like fucking days. The days after her death I fell into a deep, dark, depression, and my mood swings were giving me whiplash. I experienced pain, sadness, anger, guilt, and denial. I suffered constant nightmares and flashbacks of the moment she died. J.D has been hovering around a lot more than usual, and his presence has been a huge comfort to me.

  In her memory, I got a memorial tattoo for Peyton, which was done by Seb. The words ‘My Angel’ in gothic script spanning from one collarbone to the other in a curved shape. It seemed fitting for her and my feelings for her. I feel empty and have a huge Peyton-shaped hole in my chest. It wasn’t just the love of my life that was taken away that night it was the life of our unborn child, and I’ll never be able to forget that.

  The press constantly hounded us in the days that followed our return from Las Vegas, and I took refuge in vodka and my apartment. I refused to leave and locked myself away, throwing myself a huge pity party. Everywhere in the apartment was a constant reminder of her, everywhere I looked I saw her. She was like a ghost haunting every room I stepped into. I cried a lot and would pass out in a vodka-induced sleep. Everyone around me was worried for my health and my sanity, including the boys, J.D, our entourage, Peyton’s family, Seb, Cole, Amy, and Ruby.

  Peyton’s family and I decide that she deserves some kind of farewell. Seb has insisted that we have the memorial for Peyton at Saint Sinner Ink, the place where she was truly happy. The place where we met, the place where she loved life and created art. Seb has closed down the shop for the day and has placed rows of chairs for the expected guests. He has framed some of her best work and displayed it artistically around the shop with a large black and white photograph of her looking as beautiful as I remember her.

  “Sam, sugar? Amy’s soft voice interrupts my thoughts, and I look up. “Do you need help with your tie, honey?”

  She smiles warmly, and I nod. Peyton loved to see me in suit, so today I am wearing black skinny jeans, a white shirt, a skinny purple tie, biker boots, and a black blazer with the sleeves rolled up. Amy steps closer to me wearing a deep-purple dress and she lifts the collar of my shirt up, putting the tie around my neck. She knots the tie perfectly and brushes her hands over my shoulders.

  “There you go, sugar” She winks.

  “Thanks, babe,” I say softly, and I hear tiny footsteps run through the apartment.

  “Uncle Sammy!” Addison squeals and runs towards me. This beautiful little girl never fails to cheer me up and put a smile on my face. She holds her arms out to me, and I lift her up in my arms. She plants a wet sloppy kiss on my cheek.

  “What was that for, princess?”

  She looks at me as if I am stupid.

  “Because you’re sad, Uncle Sammy, I don’t want you to be sad anymore, it makes me sad.”

  My heart melts at her words, and even though she is only four years old, she is wise beyond her years.

  “I’ll be fine. I promise, princess. Uncle Sammy is big and strong like Superman.”

  She grins and then her bottom lip sticks out.

  “Uncle Sammy, where’s Aunty Peyton?”

  This was the question I have been dreading, and Amy brushes my arm.

  “Come on, Addison, Uncle Sammy needs to finish getting dressed.”

  She holds onto my neck tighter.

  “No, Mummy, I want Aunty Peyton, she had pretty hair and pretty drawings on her body like Uncle Sammy’s.”

  My heart clenches.

  “Aunty Peyton … She is … she is with the angels now, princess, the angels are looking after her.”

  My voice shakes, my eyes glaze over, and I try to swallow the lump that is forming in my throat.

  “Come on, Addison, let’s leave Uncle Sammy to it, baby.”

  Addison kisses my cheek, and Amy takes her from me.

  “I’m sorry,” Amy mouths and I shake my head.

  “It’s fine, babe, honestly,” I mouth back and smile as she strides across the apartment with
Addison in her arms.

  The boys are all here along with J.D and Cole; I know my parents have told them to keep a close eye on me. I walk into the kitchen and Brody pushes a glass of amber liquid towards me.

  “Drink this, dude; you look like you need it.”

  I smile, and even though it is still barely ten in the morning, I down it in one, relishing the warm burn as it slides smoothly down my throat. As I lower the glass from my mouth, my mum walks in.

  “Jesus Christ, Sam, it’s not even lunchtime yet,” my mum snaps and I slam my glass down on the worktop signalling for Brody to refill my glass. He refills my glass, and a look passes between my mum and the rest of the boys.

  “Spare me the lecture, Mum, please.”

  She narrows her eyes on me. “Is it really a good idea to be drinking at ten AM in the morning?”

  “It’s five o’ clock somewhere in the world, Mum.”

  I roll my eyes as I knock back my second glass. I turn and stride out of the kitchen, practically colliding with Ruby.

  “Whoa, careful, babe.”

  That’s when the tears I have been holding back finally come, and I break down in Ruby’s arms.

  “I can’t fucking do this, Ruby, I can’t,” I sob, and she cups my face in her hands.

  “Look at me, babe, yes you can, and you know why? Because every single one of the people at this memorial all feel your pain. We have all lost her too, I know it’s hard because it’s hard for me too, she was my best friend, and she was like a sister to me, I loved her. We dragged each other through the good times and the bad times, I know that she would have fought for you right up until the end.” She moves her hands from my face and takes my hands in hers. “Now, chin up, tits out, that’s what me and Peyton used to say. Head up, shoulders back and go make her proud.”

  She winks and kisses me on the cheek. I know deep down she is right, but all I want to do is drown in my sadness and obliterate every negative thought. I need to be so numb I can’t feel anything at all.

  An hour passes, and I know I have spoken to everyone present at the memorial. I have nodded, put on a smile, and said thank you in all the right places, channelling my inner showman to show everyone I’m OK. When the truth is, deep down I feel like I am dying inside. I’m sitting in the front row with Sophia, Max, Dexter, Grace, Eden, Jonah, Ruby, and Seb. I know that even though they haven’t said it, her family blame me for her death. They blame me for not keeping her safe, for not protecting her and allowing her to be taken. I can see it every time they look at me; the words that usually hurt the most are the unspoken ones.

  Seb gets up and steps to the front. He is wearing a light-purple t-shirt, black jeans, a blazer, and black Converse trainers. The theme for today is not black, it’s purple, Peyton’s favourite colour.

  “The day Peyton Leigh Harper walked into my shop, I knew she was special. She showed up to Saint Sinner every single day without fail, begging me to look at her portfolio. She was like a little firecracker, a force of nature with the cutest smile and the personality to match. For weeks, she would show up every day, until I relented and looked at her work; that was the day that changed my life. I taught her everything I knew, and she turned into one of the best female tattooists in the business. She became like a little sister to me, she was my best friend, and I looked forward to coming into work just to watch her breeze into the shop without a care in the world. She was kind, funny, and she lit up a room when she entered it.”

  Seb pours himself a shot of Jack Daniels and downs it, holding the glass up in the air.

  “The shop won’t be the same without you, honey, I love ya.”

  He places the glass down and takes a seat back in his chair. He wipes a stray tear from his eye, and Ruby brushes his arm in reassurance. She gets up and steps to the front, her heels clicking across the floor as she walks. She flips her dark hair over her shoulder and starts to speak.

  “Peyton was my best friend, the sister I never had, over twenty years of friendship and every day was an adventure. We first met when we were five years old and became inseparable, we brought each other through the good times and the bad times. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss you, babe.”

  A tear slips down her cheek, and she pours herself a shot. She knocks it back and places the glass down.

  “Give em’ hell up there. Love you, babe.”

  She wipes her eyes and goes back to her seat. Sophia puts her arm around Ruby, and she quietly comforts her as she sobs softly. Max loosens his tie and stands up from his seat. He steps to the front and clears his throat.

  “When Peyton was born, she was such a daddy’s girl. Every time I looked into her big blue eyes, she melted my heart. She turned into a beautiful young woman who was full of life and continued to make my wife and I proud until the end. Our lives will never be the same again, sweetheart.”

  Max pours himself a shot and knocks it back, placing the glass down on the table.

  “We love you, my darling.” His voice shakes, and he takes his seat next to me. He nudges me, and I look at him. “You’re up, Sam.”

  He winks, and I nod—this is the part I have been dreading. What do I say to do her justice? I get to my feet and shakily take my place at the front. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, and my heart is thundering in my chest. Come on, Newbolt, man the fuck up. I take a breath and place my hand on the table for support.

  “I’m no good at this, so I’ll keep it brief. It was in this very shop where I first laid eyes on Peyton. Her feistiness, her big blue eyes, and her sparkling personality was what attracted me to her. When we first met, she hated the fact that I was a rock star, she had read about my man whoring ways, but as soon as I saw her, I knew that part of my life was over. Her razor-sharp wit and her amazing ability to bring me to my knees with just one look, I think I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. She didn’t take my crap, and it was refreshing. She was the first woman to ever say no to me.”

  Everyone in the room laughs.

  “She quickly became my addiction, my reason to get up on stage and perform. She was my good luck charm, my angel, and the love of my life. There’s not a day that goes by where she doesn’t consume my every thought.”

  A tear slips down my cheek, and I look up to the ceiling.

  “Christ, I’m struggling, angel, I need you.”

  The tears are flowing freely, and Ruby gets up from her seat. She comes to the front and takes my hand. I am comforted by her presence, and I take a deep breath. Suddenly, I am so overwhelmed and crippled by grief, and I just can’t do this anymore. I want it to stop. I want the pain to stop; I just want it all to stop.

  “Sorry … erm … shit…I really can’t do this.”

  I snatch my hand away from Ruby, and I bolt. I head for the door, and I run, not looking back.

  19

  Sam

  I am not sure how, but I end up back at my apartment and I am not aware of how much time has passed, I’m a fucking mess. I loosen my tie and make my way into the kitchen. I grab a large bottle of vodka and the grief that threatens to consume me takes hold and firmly grips my very being, until I can’t take it anymore. I rush to the bathroom and root around in the cabinet until I find a pill bottle filled with Seroxat. I take the bottle and make my way over to the floor to ceiling windows, looking out across the city, Peyton’s favourite view in the world. The apartment is bathed in soft moonlight as the lights across the city twinkle and flicker. I slide down the window and sit down, emptying the pills onto the floor in front of me. I am sobbing hard now, and I unscrew the lid of my vodka bottle, taking a long pull. I drink until the bottle is half-empty. The liquid burns as it slides down my throat and my head feels fuzzy. The thoughts that spin around in my head take over. I can’t go on anymore, I can’t go on living my life without her in it, and I can’t see my future anymore. My life is pointless and totally fucking meaningless. I hear the door pounding frantically and muffled voices shouting outside.

  “Sam,
open the fucking door!” Jax’s voice pleads, but I ignore it.

  “I know you’re in there, you fucking dick! Open the door, or I’m going to break it the fuck down!” he roars, but I continue to ignore him. I scramble to my feet; my head feels like it is about to explode, and I just want it all to fucking stop. I can’t see a way out of this hell I find myself in. I stumble to the kitchen and grab a bread knife from the chopping block. I stagger back into the living room unable to focus on my surroundings, and I collapse onto the floor, hitting my head as I fall.

  “Shit! Fuck!” I curse. The knife I am holding clatters to the floor and echoes around the room. I reach for the knife, and I crawl towards where I left the vodka and pills. My vision is blurry, but I still manage to cut my left wrist deep. The pain bites into my consciousness, but I am relieved to feel something for the first time in weeks.