The sound of Leo’s boots thundering up the back porch yank me from my daydream. I quickly push the spatula around the breakfast potatoes one last time and flip off the burner. My mind races with all of the things I want to say and is fueled by my anxious nature. The door bangs open, and I jump, burning my hand on the pan.
“Fuck,” I hiss. Steel runs up to nudge my hip, checking on me. “I’m okay,” I coo and pet his head.
“Damn dog likes you better than me,” Leo grumbles as he slips out of his work boots.
“Seems like a common occurrence whenever you are involved.”
“Wow, kitten still has the claws out.” He pushes up his sleeves, assessing me.
“Nope, breakfast is on the stove.” I grab my plate and take up my seat, leaving him to tend to his own damn plate instead of serving him like I normally do. He throws me a sidelong glance before walking over to wash up in the kitchen sink. I happily munch on my bacon, and play with a lock of my hair, trying hard to pretend that I am not tracking his every move.
He plates up his food before coming over to lean up against the island across from me. Digging in, he occasionally lifts his eyes to mine before diving back in. “You gonna just say it?” he asks between bites.
“Say what?”
He shakes his head, and leisurely takes another bite. “Don’t play dumb, darlin’ it doesn’t suit you.”
“Fine, I think I need to look at how to move and get back to school. I’d like to jump right back for Spring semester and get out of your hair, but that isn’t gonna happen considering everything it’s going to take.” I had already made a call to my old University inquiring about registration dates and what not. I hadn’t had the balls to give them my real name or talk to my old program director but hey, progress, not perfection.
“Seriously? You can’t even make it up the road,” Leo grits while trying to reel in his building irritation. His nervous hand runs up the back of his neck and into his short, well-kept hair.
“I gotta figure that shit out sometime, I will keep practicing. You got a life you need to live and you don’t need me up in your way.” I also need to keep busy, I refuse to sit around and wallow in my fucked-up-ness.
“You’re not in my way,” he clips.
“I can’t live my life like a scared coward.” I bite my toast in frustration.
“You want to go get treatment or something first before you jump off into this?” Obviously he’s been thinking about how to interject that piece.
“Treatment for what? All they are going to want to do is drug me out of my mind. Make me forget what happened. I have no desire for that.” The simple fact is that most psychologists ram drugs down patient’s throats like candy, praying for the band aid effect to work long term rather than treating the whole person and solving the fucking root problem. It would take a miracle to find one that actually embraced multiple different therapies or specialized in variable, customized treatment.
“What the hell is wrong with that?” His defensiveness tells me all that I need, and what I’ve suspected about the meds they must have him on.
“Look, the drugs work well for some. But I can’t forget what I went through, it’s a dishonor to the girls I saw die down there. I can’t do that to all those forgotten girls who never made it out. I am a master of my reality, I will master my own fucking head.” Sweat breaks out over my brow as my head begins to feel clouded with a dark weight. I don’t even know where it came from but the colorful truth in the unnamed resistance that I have been fighting disturbed even me. I’ve heard of trauma victims saying similar things, especially soldiers back from war, but I didn’t fully understand their strife until this very moment.
“So what you are sayin’ is, you don’t want professional help to get better because by doin’ so, you’d be leavin’ the others behind?” The compassion in Leo’s softening tone tells me he really could relate.
“Guess so.”
“But how does continuing to suffer do any of y’all any good?”
“Do I look like I am suffering?” I sweep a hand down my well healed, disease free body.
Leo walks around and runs a calloused palm up the side of my neck, one possessive move that renders me speechless. He raises his other hand and gently brushes a fingertip across my forehead. “Yeah, I see it up here.” His lips lightly trace the lines forming above my brow, the tenderness making me want to weep. Which in turn, pisses me off.
“Back off, don’t even pretend like that with me.”
“Who said I was pretendin’?” He leans in closer, his musk dangerously messing up my already dysfunctional head.
“Take it back to the whore you were with when you decided I wasn’t important enough to even let me know where the hell you’d run off to.” I slap his hands away and grab up my empty plate. Storming around the kitchen, I unnecessarily begin to slam doors and throw things in the sink, not fully understanding the why of my outburst. The feeling of not being good enough, not believing I was special enough for anyone to want to genuinely be with me in a healthy way taunts my fragile mind. The anger is blinding, and, before I realize it, my hands have ahold of our water glasses, chucking them into the wall with a roar of anguish. Cries break free from my chest as I begin to fist my hair and pull, hard, trying to get my head to stop going down the rabbit hole of suffering. You are a piece of shit, that’s why. Nothing but a worthless pound of flesh. Hot, fat tears well as I fight with myself, scratching my scalp deep. I want to scream. That’s it you piece of swine, squeal, break, fall apart. You are nothing.
Warm hands latch onto mine, yank my hands away from my head, and pin me up against an all-encompassing body. Leo’s calm, rhythmic voice slowly tries to talk me down as I fight him. My forearms flex as I twist and pull.
“Leave me alone, asshole!” I scream, and try like hell to get free, but it is useless. I feel useless, I never seem to win any battles. Just when I think I have a handle, the demons prove to me just how wrong I am. Perhaps the voices are right.
“I told ya, I ain’t goin’ nowhere, darlin’. And neither are you. We do this together.” He kisses the top of my head and that pisses me off even further. Rearing up, I stomp on his foot with all that I have, and land an elbow into his ribs the second his grip loosens.
“Fuck!” he growls, frees his grip and I run off to my room and slam the door. He stomps down the hall right after me, fists banging loud on the wood paneling. “Open the damn door.”
“Go away, I’ll find a way to get the hell out of your hair as soon as I can, I don’t want to be anybody’s problem to deal with.” My mind starts racing with fear as I try to realistically think of logical places I could go. I sure as hell didn’t want to go home, not that I was convinced I still had one of those. Bet the bank probably took it by now, it’s not like the drunken mother dearest ever paid any of the bills. That responsibility had all been left up to me once upon a time.
“You’re not goin’ anywhere, it’s just a PTSD fit. You are spiralin’.”
“You don’t know shit.” Even though I know he is right.
“Seriously?”
“Fine, you know some shit, but you don’t know my shit.”
“So tell me about it.”
“I don’t want to, no one else needs my shit up in their head.” My feet pace the carpet as my hands rub up and down my arms.
“Doubt anything you tell me is worse than what I’ve already seen or even lived through, but try me.”
“No.”
“More stubborn than an old farm mule.” Exasperation seeps through the door.
“I already retell it all to myself like a damn hamster wheel. It’s exhausting, I want off the mental ride but it’s like I’m addicted to reliving it too.” My nightly prayers have been for internal peace, a freeing for my mind from the constant loop on replay.
“Darlin’, if anyone understands that, I do.” The tenderness in his words has me moving toward the door, my palm hovering over the knob, until he continues speaking
that is. “Let me help you take it away.”
I don’t even dignify that with an answer, I will never give him the control or gratification of taking anything away from me, not him, not anyone ever again. Not even the demons.
The sound of his heavy frame sliding down the wall and settling in resonates throughout my room as I move to lay on the bed in the fetal position, trying in all of my desperation to run far enough into the darkness to find peace and comfort in the old shit I knew too well. That’s the thing about trauma, as suffocating and downright terrifying as it can be. It eats away at your insides, rotting you from the inside out, the scent of decrepit flesh never far behind as it slowly destroys all the things you once loved… you crave it on some level. There’s something about being locked within the terror of your own mind that can make you feel alive again when, most of the time, you feel so fucking dead.
Chapter 10
Luna
“Luna, get your ass out here.” Bex knocks on the bathroom door.
“I look ridiculous,” I yell back, smoothing my hands down the fitted top, turning this way and that way in the mirror.
“No way, sweetie, you could never look ridiculous.” Sugar’s sweet voice comes through the panel.
My hands come up to fidget around the neckline of the low cut blouse I squeezed my tits into, trying to pull up the top enough to make it look a little less trashy.
“Come on, babe! I want to dance!” Wingz adds, probably shaking her hips in the hall.
“Y’all go on without me.” I didn’t want to go out looking like this, and risk attracting scumbags.”
“Fuck that. It’s New Year’s Eve. I’ll be damned if you spend another holiday boxed up in this hell hole,” Bex mutters. I hear some scraping and clinking of metal before the bathroom door pops open.
“What the hell!” I jump back as they crowd in the small bathroom around me, all three decked out in tight jeans, boots and cute tops.
“Hot damn, lady, you looking mighty fine.” Bex leans on the vanity, shamelessly checking me out.
“I look too sexy.” My eyes drop to the floor in shame.
Sugar coughs, and giggles. “You got on wranglers, boots, and a plaid button down blouse. It’s not like you are in that spandex mini dress we tried talking you into. Hell, ya look like a nun compared to what you will be seeing up in that bar.”
“My tits are all over the place!”
“Well, I got news for ya kitten, there’s no hiding those things.” Bex blows a bubble then pops her gum before standing up and fluffing her long, blonde hair. Her smart brown eyes looked like they were up to something despite her lax state.
“Maybe I should just wear a pullover or something.” I try again to adjust my breasts.
“Hell no, use what the good Lord gave ya, those beauties may mean free drinks. Now let’s get a move on!” Wingz grabs my arm and pulls me out of the bathroom, the other two hot on her heels.
“Maybe I should put my hair up?” That’s a reasonable request that should buy me a little time to get it together.
“Quit stalling.”
“How the hell do we know I can even do this? What if I freak out around all those people?” They’ve managed to get me out into public once for some midafternoon shopping, and I lasted an hour.
“Here, eat this.” Bex hands me a piece of a cookie.
“What the hell is the corner of a cookie gonna do?” My brow arches.
“Just trust me. Doctor’s orders.” Wingz and Sugar chuckle behind her.
“What’s in said cookie?” I knew damn well that it wasn’t an ordinary treat, Bex was up to something.
“Just some good ole natural medicine.”
“Pot?” I ask as I take it, and examine it.
“Only the best. Now, eat up and it should be in full effect before we get there. Take the edge off.” She slings on her leather jacket.
“Shouldn’t I eat a whole one?” At this point, I’ve been so stir crazy up in this damn place, I was desperate to go anywhere no matter who was there. I’m willing to try anything. This fear has got to stop.
“Girl, please. Shit is powerful, just trust.” Wingz bumps her hip into mine as she slings her purse over her shoulder.
“Am I the only one eating this?” I pick it up and hold it up to the light, furthering a useless inspection.
“Hell no, we split one into fourths, you’re the last to go.” Sugar surprises me. Never pegged her the type to eat some Mary Jane but then again, what the hell do I know.
“Bottoms up.” I open up, and down it in one bite, sending up a prayer that this works. If I don’t blow some steam off soon, I might become a liability.
Arriving at the bar, we get a parking spot right in front. Trucks and cars span out in every direction, all crowding in on the hot place in town. My brain feels a bit floaty, and giggly. Or, is it than I’m giggling and the rest of the world is floaty? I snort laugh out loud to myself.
“Someone is feeling good.” Bex laughs as she takes the keys out of the ignition of her Jeep and we pile out.
“Hell yeah I am. Not a trigger in sight for the moment. It’s incredible.” I hold my arm out like I’m flying free and swirl around in a circle, my boots kicking up some snow.
“Oh yeah, this is gonna be a good night.” Wingz grabs my arm and spins me toward the door.
“Better get beers first to keep that little high of hers going, we don’t need any freak outs on her first real night out.” Bex opens the door and the cacophony of excited voices and music spills out into the wintery night.
A song from distant memories starts to register, and my hips begin to sway on their own as my eyes track the room, looking for the dance floor. Spotting it off to the left, I spin on my heel, heeding the call of a long lost lover. I have always loved dancing with every bit of my being. And thanks to the marijuana buzz, the surrounding bodies had no effect on me.
“Oh shit, she’s off. Wingz, stay with her while I start a tab,” Bex barks over the noise.
“Gladly!” Wingz bobs to my side as we weave through the crowd.
Completely lost in my own little world, Wingz, Sugar, and I sway to the beats, blind to the faces around us. Everything is a blur until Bex comes up out of nowhere, appearing like a goddess from the fuzzy crowd in all of her flowing blonde hair glory, holding a few mugs of frosty, cold beer. My mouth waters as I eagerly take one. The Christmas lights and other decorations are still strewn about, making me kind of sad that we didn’t celebrate it. It was almost as if the entire holiday got swallowed up without a trace. If it wasn’t for the TV, and the girls making an impromptu stop by on Christmas Eve, I’d have thought the world stopped celebrating it. When I tried asking Leo about it, he didn’t even respond. Not wanting to slip down that icy path and kill my buzz, I shake it off.
“Thanks, Bex!” As my lips meet the rim of the glass, my eyes happily bounce around, continuing to take in the surroundings of a place full of foreign things.
There had to be a couple hundred people in this old country bar, everyone dressed to the nines, happy to not be snowed in at the moment. The last few weeks of weather has been rough on everyone. Leo and I pretty much existed side by side in a series of grunts and single words, he spent most of his time either in the barn when I wasn’t out there or in his workshop, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife after our last stupid little fight. If it hadn’t been for the horses, TV, and the books Bex dropped off, I’d had taken a bath with the toaster long ago. I take a big swig as my view lands on a few handsome biker looking guys around a four top. One of them catches me ogling, gives me a sly grin, and I quickly look away in shame.
“Ah honey, look at you catchin’ eyes already. Them are bad news right there, rivals, don’t get too excited,” Bex shouts over the bass and jolly drunks.
“Nah, I’m good.” And I was. Feeling my social anxiety niggle around in the background, I take to slamming my beer back and letting the music capture my swaying hips in its grasp. Within minute
s, my mind calms back down as the rhythm has my body in perfect line with the beat.
“Damn girl, look at you.” Wingz lightly bumps me with an elbow as we all dance around one another.
“Shit, looks like we are all out of beer, let’s go.” Bex taps Sugar on the shoulder then motions to us to follow. Confused, I trot after them as they make their way into the bathroom with their empty beer glasses.
Bex looks around to see if anyone else was in here with us. Happy with the vacancy, she opens up the big purse that’s been slung around her all night, and pulls out beer cans for all of us. Taking the can, I look at her oddly as she pops one open and refills her glass.
“Oh don’t judge kitten, community doc don’t pay shit, we all are on a budget.” Everyone follows suit, and I can’t help but burst out laughing. Her audacity, the brilliance of it, the booze and weed all coupling for a riot. Wingz and Sugar start to add to the symphony and slowly, so does Bex.
“Girl, we all know you are wound tighter than a pissed off rattler when it comes to your money.” Wingz slaps Bex on the shoulder, and I wipe at the tears streaming from my eyes. “And honey, you done smeared your mascara. Here.” She hands me a tissue, and I get to dabbing the mess from under my eyes.
“Shit, let me get my makeup bag,” Sugar pipes up and dives into her bag. “All right, Luna, come here.” Her kind, dark eyes fixate on my messed up make-up.
“What are ya gonna do with that?” I look to the pencil in her hand like it’s a weapon of mass destruction.
“You need a little eyeliner.” She smiles, a little devilish side peeking through that we don’t see often. She was the quiet one in the trio, and stunningly beautiful with her dark, pixie cut hair, and unique feminine features.
Winter's Absolution (Obsidian Blades MC Book 1) Page 13