But in another way he looked different.
VERY different.
Happier, maybe?
No fucking way…
Seeing Bear happy was as likely as spotting a yeti in the backyard. Something I had to see to believe, but 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 whose 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 fucking evil was in his place.
Blood curdling screams filled the small room, echoing off the walls and through my ears, the familiar and fucking 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.
4
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 fucking ALIVE.
And best of all?
Chop was fucking 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 fucking 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 its 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 two pm because I’m sure their story line was being played out on one of the daytime channels.
“So wait, I’ve been calling you, Doe…but what the fuck is your name?” I asked, pushing off the bed into a standing position.
“Ramie, but I go by Ray.”
“Wow,” I said. I knew her name wasn’t really Doe but for some reason the thought of her having a real name was still a shock.
“You can call me Doe if you want though,” she said, and I felt as if she genuinely meant it. “I feel like I have a thousand names now, Doe, Ramie, Pup. Although Mommy is kind of my current favorite.”
“Mine too,” King added.
And as if they could sense that she was speaking about them, two little blonde kids appeared in the doorway. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mom, Mammmmaaaaaa,” they both called, not waiting for her to answer, just continuously repeating her name just to make sure neither of their parents kept full control of their sanity.
“I take that back,” Doe amended with a smile.
King ran and scooped both kids up into his arms. They kicked their legs and squealed in delight. “Come on you two, let’s get you some lunch. And don’t wake up your little sister or your mom will…” his voice faded as he stomped down the hallway.
“Where the fuck is Bear?” I asked, sitting up. He’s the only one I hadn’t seen much of. “I vaguely remember him being here when I first woke up.” I bent my knees, testing the limits of my joints. Everything cracked and snapped and popped like a god damned cereal commercial, but it felt good to be standing on my own power.
Doe busied herself by fluffing the pillows. “Bear sat with you a lot, he’s just been really busy at the club I’m sure. There's been a lot going on over there since he took the reign.”
“You mean since Bear killed Chop,” I said. “It’s okay, you can say his name. You said the fucker’s dead now, right? Doesn’t matter anymore.”
If only that were true.
“Something like that,” she responded.
“I wish I could have been there to see that,” I said, shuffling my feet on the carpet and grabbing what furniture I could as I put more and more space between myself and the bed.
“Revenge isn’t everything, Preppy. All that matters is that you’re here.”
“No, I don’t wish that I was there to see Chop being killed as long as it happened. I wish I was there to see Bear getting a girl,” I said and Doe laughed. “She must be something else. What’s her name again?”
“Thia,” Doe admitted. “You’ll like her.”
“I’m sure I will,” I said, curious as to what the girl was like who made Bear want more than just a quick fuck.
Because if she’s anything like the girl who made you want more…
Doe snapped me out from my thought. “I’ve brought you some clothes,” she said, diverting her eyes from the back of my hospital style gown which I knew was open in the back because I felt the cool air from the A/C against my ass cheeks. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” she asked again.
“Nah. I just want to get dressed on my own. Feel human again. You know, one small step for mankind and shit.”
“Prep,” King warned suddenly appearing back in the doorway, this time minus the kids.
“Seriously, Boss-man? I’m back from the dead and you’re still gonna give me shit about Doe? I mean, in a situation like this, one pity fuck wouldn’t be completely unheard of,” I pointed out, fully prepared for King to sling my words right back at me.
“You can do and say whatever you want, Prep,” King responded, in a surprisingly calm tone. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one confused by his newfound Zen attitude because Doe looked just as confused as I did. Then King smiled and it was then I KNEW something wasn’t right.
Or maybe things have changed more than they’ve let on…
“Uh…I can?” I asked, my knees cracking as they began to work again. Slowly I shook the leg out and muscle memory took over I was able to take a few small steps. “What’s the catch?”
“You can talk as much shit as you want to me as long as you’re prepared to be dead again,” he said, pulling Doe tightly into his side. “For real this time.”
I scowled. “You’re not a friend. You’re a monster!” I cried dramatically, taking larger and larger steps as I crossed the room. Suddenly, while doing my Preppy shuffle across the pink carpet, I was hit with a flash of memory.
My hands around a throat. Feminine screaming. Flashes of dark hair.
I paused.
“Was anyone else here besides you guys? When I woke up or maybe even before?” I asked.
“Were you expecting someone?” King asked.
“No, but I’ve just got this weird feeling…” I trailed off, staring at the shade of bubblegum pink on the wall. Although it was now pink, it used to be blue. My old room. The room where I broke down and wrapped my hands around Doc’s throat. It must have just been a memory. A distorted one, but a memory at that. “Never mind. I think my brain is still misfiring.”
Doe set the clothes down on the bed.
“We’ll be in the living room when you’re done. You ne
ed help down the stairs?” King asked.
“Fuck off,” I said, giving him the middle finger, which he returned.
“Welcome home, motherfucker,” he grumbled, unable to hide his smile. It was like our version of hugging it out.
I love that big mean bastard.
I stared down at the clothes. A pressed white shirt, khakis, matching pink and yellow suspenders, and a bow tie. It was my usual pre Narnia attire. I ran my hand down the soft clean fabric but when I picked up the shirt from the pile I dropped it back onto the bed as if it stung my hand. I pushed the suspenders and bow tie off the pile and rummaged underneath, opting for a pair of grey sweatpants and plain white t-shirt on the bottom of the stack.
I made my way out into the living room, holding onto the railing as I slowly descended the steps, each one becoming easier and easier as my muscles adjusted to the feeling of walking and I remembered how to put one foot in front of the other again.
Voices speaking in hushed tones stopped me before I turned the corner.
“I don’t know why we lied to him, that was stupid,” Doe said.
I could hear the guilt in King’s voice when he responded. “What were we supposed to say? Yeah, Prep, you had a visitor while you were in a coma, and by the way, I don’t know who that girl is to you, but you woke up in a panic, almost strangled her to death, and you called her your wife. Also, you kind of freaked the fuck out on Bear and we’re guessing it’s because he looks so much like his psycho old man so he’s decided not to come around so you don’t flip your shit and try to kill him again?”
My entire body stiffened.
She WAS here.
King sighed heavily. I peeked around the corner and his head was in his hands. Doe was rubbing his back, sitting on the armrest of the couch. The two kids were sitting at the table off to the side, picking the crust off their sandwiches and throwing them at one another.
“I know it’s hard, but we have to tell him the truth. He deserves that much. We’re his family. We can’t lie to him.”
“As his family it’s our job to protect him, so we can’t just dump all this shit onto his shoulders all at once either,” King said. “He’s already been through too fucking much. I just wish I would have known where he was. He was so close the entire fucking time. So fucking close…” King’s voice trailed off.
I stepped out into the living room, ready to tell him that it wasn’t his fault and he shouldn’t blame himself for not knowing where I was when I realized something.
She WAS really here.
Neither King nor Doe saw me limping into the room. King continued. “I mean, this shits, fucked up. How the hell are we supposed to tell him that Grace died?”
It was the shock shooting through my system that made me walk right into the coffee table and make myself known.
“Shit,” King swore. He stood up and came toward me. I held up my hands and took a step back.
“We didn’t mean for you to find out…” he started, running a frustrated hand over his hair. “It’s my fucking fault.”
“No. No,” I said, waving them off and trying to keep down the bile rising in my throat. My legs again grew shaky but I stood straighter, not wanting to make them feel worse by breaking down in front of them. “You guys have nothing to feel guilty about. Grace was sick right? For a long time. I mean, I kind of already figured,” I lied. I was positive Grace would outlive the cockroaches of the apocalypse. She could have been run over by a Mack truck and I would’ve put money on the truck having more damage than her.
I turned back toward my room. Or what USED to be my room. “I’m just gonna go take a shower,” I said heading back up the stairs.
“Preppy, wait,” King called out but I kept going.
“He needs some time,” Doe said.
With each step back to my room the threat of losing my shit grew greater and greater. It wasn’t until I was behind the closed door when I let the tears fall.
And fall they did.
I cried for the loss of Grace, my mother in all ways except blood. The mother who never let me down. The woman who would let me have it when I’d done something she didn’t approve of, but who wasn’t judgmental. She loved me for me. She loved all my crazy.
She never tried to change me.
I never even got to say good-bye.
I eventually made my way into the shower, spending several minutes under the water long after it turned cold. When I finally dragged myself out I went to take a piss and caught a glimpse of my reflection out of the corner of my eye. I turned toward the mirror and faced someone I hadn’t seen in a very long fucking time. Someone I used to like looking at.
A lot.
I wasn’t fucking stupid. I knew that after the shit I’d been through that I wouldn’t exactly be GQ material.
But I also didn’t expect to be staring at a total fucking stranger either.
I leaned in close to the mirror. I felt around my long knotted beard with my fingertips and almost lost my shit when they dropped into my severely sunken cheeks. The bones around my dark and hollowed eye sockets protruded out like a fucking caveman. My once hazel eyes which now looked more like a muted shit-colored brown.
At least Grace won’t ever have to see me this way.
Even when my hair was at its longest, I’d always kept the top long and shaved the sides to show off the tattoos on both sides of my head. Post-torture, the parts that were normally short were grown out well past my shoulders, and for some reason looked much darker than the medium blond I remember it being.
I looked like a skinnier, demented version of Jesus Christ.
Walking death.
I could count my ribs, something I hadn’t been able to do since I was a kid and suddenly I was back on the playground again, getting the shit beat out of me by a sumo wrestler of a twelve-year-old who entered puberty well before his time.
Everything about the pathetic soul in that mirror told a story that didn’t bear repeating. My head spun. I grabbed onto the sink for support and lowered my head, staring at the thin ring of rust around the drain.
After every single motherfucking thing I’d been through in my life, I’d never considered myself a victim.
But a victim was all I saw in that mirror.
With one last scowl at my reflection I shuffled over to the toilet and leaned on the wall, pulling out my flaccid cock to take the piss I’d started to take earlier, but I couldn’t help but keep thinking about Grace.
You are a good person, my Samuel. You’re a good boy. Grace’s words rang in my head. You are loved.
Mid-piss I stepped away from the toilet, spraying urine on the seat and floor. I ripped open the cabinet under the sink. I knelt and my knees crunched loudly, like gravel being rubbed together. I groaned at the odd sensation and the even more awful sound.
“Are you okay in there, Preppy?” Doe asked from the other side of the door.
“Fine,” I barked back. Of all people she didn’t deserve my irritation. I instantly felt guilty. “Fine,” I repeated, softening my tone as much as I could although it wasn’t much when my teeth were still gritted and I was speaking through the splitting pain burning in my legs and torso.
“Okay, we’ll all be out in the living room. So…you know. That’s where we will all be when you’re done. Waiting for you.” Sadness filled her voice. “I’m so sorry, Prep,” she added. I heard the slide of her hand as she ran it down the outside of the door followed by the light padding of her feet on the carpet and finally, the sound of the outer door of the bedroom clicking shut.
I reminded myself to apologize to her for being such a dick. She didn’t deserve me throwing a tantrum just because of what I’d been through.
I was just so fucking tired. Tired of laying there in that bed for so long. Tired of wasting fucking time. Tired of not living.
Tired of being fucking dead.
And maybe I was just tired of being fucking tired.
Once I found what I was looking for I held onto the
sink and righted myself to stand back up. I plugged in what I thought was the solution to my problem, waving it in the air tauntingly. “Bye-bye, motherfucker,” I said to my reflection. I flipped the switch and swear I saw panic flash in his eyes as the buzzing sound echoed off the walls of the small bathroom.
I clicked over to the shave setting and ran the clippers over the top of my head from front to back in one long stroke.
A sense of immediate satisfaction coursed through me as I ran my fingertips over the newly sheared section of my head.
I needed to do more.
Much more.
ALL OF IT HAD TO GO.
I didn’t bother to cut the hair with scissors first so every strip I shaved off burned like I was slowly being scalped, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t give a shit about the pain.
Not anymore.
Pain wasn’t exactly a new thing for me.
However, freedom was.
Feeling free from the anger. From the regret. Free from not caring if I could ever be the person I was before all the shit went down.
That person was almost as much of a stranger as the fucked up Jesus in the mirror who was in the process doing some long overdue and much needed man-scaping.
My head was bloodied and scraped as I worked the clippers over my head again and again.
I didn’t fucking care.
More and more hair dropped down and piled on top of my feet. First from my head and then from my face when I started on my beard, until I was completely clean and skin that hadn’t seen the light of day in years was now bared to the world.
To me.
The satisfaction I felt while cutting it all off quickly turned to disappointment and a sudden sinking feeling. I gripped the sides of the sink and let my head fall with a growl.
I’d expected to be staring at someone new.
Someone clean.
The reality was that I was anything but.
Rage burned in my chest, bubbling over to a boil when I realized it was still the tortured looking man from moments before.
Preppy, The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater: A King Series Trilogy Page 25