The Rage

by Jaci J.

  These tears are for me. For my Lala. I buried my head in my hands and I roared out my pain and cried like a goddamn baby. Take away my fucking man card and remove my balls. Call me a bitch. I don’t give a shit. I have never felt any pain like this in my entire life.

  My baby didn’t deserve this shit, to be beaten nearly to death. This should have never happened. In my sick and twisted mind, I replay what she went through. I imagine how she got every mark, every break, every bruise in great detail, agonizing over every possible scenario. I imagine her taking this beating and not giving up, fighting for her life. I didn’t protect her. She was alone, and I was getting high and fucking anything in sight while she was just trying to stay alive.

  I want to just crawl in that bed with her and hold her, let her know she will never be alone again if she stays with me. I want to tell her I will do any fucking thing in this world if she just fights a little harder to stay with me, but all I can do is hold her hand and pray to God that she can feel me. I pray she’s not in pain. Fuck I don’t want her to feel alone or scared.

  “Lala, baby. I’m here.”

  I’m not sure how long I sit there. I know I sit there holding her cold hand until clipboard lady sticks her head in the door.

  “Rampage? Could we speak a moment?” For a second I debate on leaving Lala alone. I don’t want her to be alone. Fuck she shouldn’t have to be in this room alone.

  “Send someone in here to sit with her.” Clipboard nods her head and a few minutes later, a nurse in pink scrubs comes in and starts checking her machines. “Sit with her ‘til I get back.” I tell her. I want Lala comfortable and with someone… anyone.

  I find Clipboard sitting in the chairs at the end of the hall. Sitting down across from her, she looks at me with sad eyes.

  “I take it that you know the patient?” I just nod. I don’t have any goddamn words for her or anyone for that matter. I’ll giver what she wants, and then I’m back with Lala. “What can you tell me about her?”

  “Her names Lailah Ray, so stop callin’ her the goddamn patient for starters.”

  This time it’s her turn to nod. “Alright. What else can you tell me about Lailah?” I tell her everything I know about her.

  I answer every question, but before I go back to Lala, I need to know what happened to her.

  “What happened to Lala? You know who did this?” But I know. There is only one motherfucker that’d do this shit to her.

  “Yes. A neighbor found her. From the healing that had started before she was brought in, the doctor estimated that she’d been alone for twenty-four to thirty-six hours before she was found.” My stomach rolls. She was alone. She was fucking hurt and alone with no one to help her. She just laid there, suffering and dying all alone.

  “Her skull is fractured, along with her jaw and the bone in her eye socket. She has several broken ribs, a punctured lung, internal bleeding, which was stopped with surgery once she was brought in, and a broken arm. She has various cuts, bruises, swelling and scrapes to her face and other parts of her body.” Fuck. My poor fucking girl. “It looks like she was hit repeatedly with a blunt object. The markings match that of the butt of a rifle, along with a fist and boot imprints. I think that it’s also important for you to know that she was sexually assaulted.” He’s gonna die. It is gonna be so slow and painful. I am going to make him beg me for death, but keep it just out of reach for him. That motherfucker is gonna bleed out slowly.

  ****

  I sit with Lala for a long time. I don’t know how fucking long. Long enough for the sun to fall and rise again. I hold her hand, but I don’t look at her again. I can’t. I don’t want to see her that way, it’s just too fucking much.

  A light knock echoes in the deathly silent room. Clipboard sticks her head in the room again.

  “Rampage, I have one last thing for you before we finish up.” The last few days have been paperwork and interviews, then more paperwork and instructions. Paperwork and bullshit. I don’t know how much more I can take.

  Walking out into the hall, I see Lil and Tank. They’ve been here with me, silently watching me try not to lose my shit again. Tank’s been making moves, finding things that have been hidden and setting shit up. Ryan was hidden, but now he’s being found. Lil’s been doing everything she can to be helpful and not drive me fucking nuts with her mother hen shit. As much as she drives me fucking crazy, I’m happy as hell she’s here. I’m happy I have my whole club watching my back.

  “Rampage?” Lil’s broken voice makes my heart ache. Turning to look at her I can see she’s ready. She’s been working up to this for a few days. “Can I see Lala now?”

  “Don’t gotta ask me, Sis. I ain’t gonna lie, it’s gonna be hard to see her like that, but let her know that your are here, okay? I think she needs to know she’s not alone anymore.”

  “I’ll do that. Thank you for the heads up.” I give her a nod to go ahead. I know she loves her, too.

  The last thing I hear before she closes the door behind me is her strangled sob. Fuck. It breaks my heart all over again and I feel the tears start rolling down my face.

  20

  A Beautiful Surprise

  Rampage

  I don’t get the small blue chairs at the end of the hall this time. No. This time I get a big open room. A few hospital couches, chairs, and coffee tables with magazines and a couple of flat screen TV’s. Clipboard motions for me to sit down with her hand. I don’t bitch because she usually gets down to business and then leaves me the fuck alone. Aside from her always calling Lala the patient, she ain’t so bad.

  “I know these past few days have been rough. I know there is a lot of emotional and physical healing that will need to take place for you and your family.” Family. The word family makes my stomach clench. It’s a painful word, but it’s the fucking truth. Lala is my family. She’s been my fucking family since she crawled into my bed and made herself at home with me. “There is one last issue that needs to be cleared up.” She motions with her hands at the double swinging doors.

  A chubby, middle-aged woman waddles in, and in her arms is a baby. My heart drops to the floor. I look over her shoulder, hoping like fuck Clipboard was motioning for someone else, but she wasn’t. The woman walks straight for us and my eyes stay trained on the small baby. A head of dark hair is all I can see.

  “Did you know that Ms. Ray had a daughter?” Lala had a baby? A fucking baby? I’m at a loss for words. I stare at the little baby and back at clipboard, trying to make some goddamn sense of all this. She’s small, smaller than Ty. Fuck, she’s tiny, but I can’t see her face because she’s asleep over the woman’s shoulder, and I can’t look away.

  “I take it you didn’t know?” I sure the fuck didn’t. “Here,” Clipboard says, handing me a piece of paper, “This should clear some things up.”

  ****

  Georgia. That’s my fucking daughters name. I have a kid. I have a fucking daughter. My head swims and my heart aches.

  “Was she hurt too?” I ask clipboard, looking between the my small baby and the lady holding her. Shaking her head, she nods toward the woman holding my goddamn baby. “Ms. June here can explain some things for you.

  This June woman tells me everything. She starts at the beginning, when Lala showed up in her trailer park, pregnant. She tells me about how Ryan was able to keep her and why she never looked for help. He made her work at his strip club, even when she was ready to give birth at any moment, just to degrade her even more. June was there with her when she went into labor, helping her get to the hospital, and watched my fucking daughter while that sick fuck used Lala as his own personal play thing and punching bag.

  Georgia wasn’t with Lala when she almost died. June had her because she was working that night, but when they came home, she heard the fighting and kept the baby until Ryan left late the next night. When she went to check on Lala, that was how she found her. Assuming that Ryan had left for good, taking a large bag with him and a few of his goons in a rush,
she was able to talk one of the neighbors into driving her to the hospital.

  I couldn’t explain it to you if you asked me to, but that shit settles a little part of my broken heart. This tiny little human that I don’t even know, and had no idea existed, suddenly holds a piece of my heart I was sure only Lala would ever have.

  ****

  “Fuck. How the fuck did this happen?” Both Tank and I look at Sis, rocking that – my baby. “Was she pregnant when she left?” He asks me.

  “I guess so.” The dates work out that way. My baby is five months old, figured that’d put Lala at about three months pregnant when she left. Shit fucking hurts knowing she left with my baby.

  Looking at Georgia, I can’t believe this is now my reality. It’s hard to fucking swallow the idea that there’s this little baby now that I will have to take care of. She’s here and she’s mine… she’s ours.

  “What the fuck am I gonna do with a daughter?”

  “Don’t know about a daughter, but I assume the same shit I do with Ty, brother. You’re gonna love her ‘n fuckin’ deal.” That shit sounds so much easier said than done.

  “I can’t raise a girl by my goddamn self.”

  “Rampage, you’re not alone,” Sis says.

  I am though. It’s me and Georgia, and right now the one person we both fucking need is Lala.

  “I can’t do this shit without her.” I tell them seriously.

  “You won’t. Lala’s a goddamn fighter, Rampage. She will get better.”

  “How the fuck you know that shit? Her last fucking memory is probably of Georgia. She was alone and she knew that no one was going to save her. I wouldn’t doubt that being in this coma is the most peace that she’s had in over a year. Why would she want to come out of it?” I feel that fear gripping the fuck out of my chest. I want her to come back to me so bad, I can taste it. I know that she lost hope in us when I told her I didn’t love her. If she knew she was pregnant, I can’t honestly say that I would have been even remotely happy about it. FUCK! I wish I knew what she had been thinking then. Things have changed, and I have changed. The only things I want in this life are Lala and Georgia. She gave me a gift that I never knew I wanted, but I will damn sure fight for it all. I want my Lala back. I need her. We fucking need her. I don’t want to raise our girl without her.

  “You need to hold your shit together for this little girl. You have to take care of her for Lala while she gets better, okay? You’ve got this, Rampage. You got all of us to help you. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that Lala will get better.”

  Lil hands me this little mess of dark hair and big, blue eyes. She looks up at me and gives me this big, bright smile and I choke on a sob. She’s all fucking Lala.

  “We gotta handle him,” Tank says quietly, looking between my baby girl and me. He’s right, we fucking do. That motherfucker is gonna pay for what he did. He’s gonna pay for taking away my goddamn family.

  “Sis, you got my girls?”

  “Of course I do.”

  Walking out of the room, holding my little Georgia, I have new purpose. I have a fucking problem to solve and I’m gonna take pleasure in dealing with it. I want my girls in a world that’s safe for them. They will never live in a world where he’s still breathing. I am going to kill him for everything he’s done, slowly and painfully.

  ****

  It had to be this way. Fuck, there was no other way. This is life – my motherfucking life – and this is how I handle my shit. I spent money, time, and manpower on finding this piece of shit. I need it. God, do I fucking need it, but my girl, my fucking Lala, she needs this more than anyone. Every club member, old lady and friend of Lala’s, her fucking family, wants this for her, so I’m gonna make sure we all get what we want. I promised myself that I would always take care of mine, and I’m doing just that. I’m taking care of what’s mine.

  “Took me a while to get you, you slimy fuck, but I knew you’d slip the fuck up soon enough.” I tell him.

  He grunts around the tape in response. He shouldn’t have shit to say to me. There is no begging for forgiveness, no explanation that will keep me from causing him the pain he so richly deserves. He hurt the one fucking person I love, and there is no way in hell he’s getting away clean on this shit.

  “Hand it to me.” I tell Stitch pointing at the eight-inch blade Buck knife. It’s just how I like my tools, dull and rusty. Gutted a few deer with it, a couple of fish, and a handful of motherfuckers. It’s my go-to tool.

  He knows what coming to him so I get the party started. I don’t give him a second to think about it before I slice into his arm, pushing the blade in all the way to the handle. Skin gives, bone breaks, and muscle tears. He screams and I feel like I’m listening to my favorite song. I’ll bet he’s gonna scream more than Lala did. Motherfucker.

  I let that blade sit for a second, letting him feel that terrible burn. I want him to see how I plan to take my time with him, and that he’ll die when I’m good and ready. I give it an oh so, slow twist, wanting to hear more of my favorite song – Keep fucking screaming.

  This moron is crying, snotting, spitting, pissing, shitting…he’s a fucking mess, and it makes me smile. It’s a genuine fucking smile, teeth and all showing. I feel my heart filling up with pure joy knowing I’m giving back a little of what he gave Lala.

  I watch as that perfect hue of red runs down his arm and into a puddle on the grass. We’re in the back yard at the club, my brothers standing around and watching. Even Happy is standing here watching the show. Our family has been fucked with too much, and he’s here to see that justice is served. This is how we handle our shit.

  “What are you gonna do with him?” Gin asks, arms crossed, staring at Ryan. What am I going to do? I’m going to gut him like a fucking pig, that’s what.

  “We’re gonna play a little game.”

  Eight inches of rusty, serrated blade is thrust straight into his thigh. He’s fighting a useless fight. No amount of struggling is gonna help him. It only makes this shit all the more fun for me. I like to see the fight in a man who knows he’s got no chance of livin’. I want him to fucking suffer.

  Ripping the tape off his mouth, I ask him, “Lala fight this hard, motherfucker?”

  “I love her,” he pleads around a sob, spitting out blood as he talks. Yeah, I can see how much love he had for her while he was slamming the end of a rifle into her face, over and over again. I’ll bet he really fucking loved her when he left her for dead, bleeding and broken on the floor.

  “I have to tell ya, Ryan. You sure do have a funny way of showin’ it,” Tank spits at him.

  I step up in front of Ryan and bend down, looking him straight in his swollen, fucked up eyes and remind him, “I fuckin’ love her, motherfucker.”

  I go at him for a long while and I’m not even tired. Every brother here still stands in the same spot, showing me they are here as long as I need this. I never parted with my knife, using it to cut off every one of his fingers, sawing them off one by one. I’ve cut things off and sliced him from head to toe. His blood covers practically every inch of me and the ground below him, and my hands are still twitching for revenge. I promised him slow and painful, and he’s getting exactly what I promised him.

  “I wonder if Lala left our home thinking she was gonna die.” I don’t really want an answer. Not sure I could handle that truth. “Did she scream? Did she beg? Did she cry?” I slam my fist straight into his already broken as fuck nose. His blood loss is making him fade fast and I still don’t feel like I’ve done enough, so I take my knife and slam it into his eye socket.

  When I pull the knife out of his eye, I reach down shove it into his stomach and twist, watching more blood just spill out of him. Idly I wonder how the fucker has any blood left in him, but I remember Sis telling me once that the human body holds somewhere between 1 1/2 to 2 gallons of blood. I plan to make sure he doesn’t have a goddamn drop left.

  “How we gonna end this, man?” Stitch asks. It’s been a few h
ours and I need to get back to my girls. Walking behind Ryan’s limp, sad fucking body, I smile again. He’ll get what he deserves.

  Grabbing a handful of his hair, I rip his head back and look down at his mutilated face. This one’s for you, Lala. I smile from ear to ear as I let my blade run across his neck. Not deep enough to kill him, but deep enough for him to choke or bleed to death. I’ve made sure it was painful, and now I’m making sure it’s slow. I want it long and drawn out.

  “Let the motherfucker bleed out or choke to death.” I get nods all around the yard. “I gotta get goin’ and get back to my girls.”

  The last thing I hear from Ryan are gurgling, gagging, gasping breaths, and I’m as satisfied as I can be. If I could, I would bring his ass back and do it all over again, but fuck him. I pray to God that shit is painful. I hope he’s as scared as Lala was. I think she would be proud of me. I’m stepping up in my role as a family man, all for my family.

  21

  Letting Go

  To say Sis and Tank were shocked would be a goddamn understatement. Fuck, I’m still shocked even though I knew what the results would be. This is my little tiny human, and the damn DNA test proves it. Hell, the little snot looks just like Lala and me. Once the results were in, they handed her over to me. That was it. I have a fucking 5 month old daughter, and believe it or not, I am a proud fucking Daddy.

  “What are we gonna do?” Lil asks, holding Georgia. There are those fucking tears I hate streaming down her face.

  “I don’t know.” I tell her. I don’t fucking know. I wish I had a goddamn answer to give her. I wish I had something good to say, but I don’t have shit.

  Lala hasn’t gotten better. Nothing has changed. The bruises have faded, the cuts are scabbed over, bones have healed, but her brain is still stuck. There is no eating, no talking. Fuck. She doesn’t even blink. She doesn’t move. She’s stuck and I fucking hate that I can’t help her. I hate that I can’t save her.