Kendall is magnificent. She always has been. Always will be. People can’t help falling in love with her. A small amount of time in her presence and you’re hooked. When we were young I wanted to pick her up and put her in my pocket. She’s such a tiny little thing. It made me want to protect her from everything, and everyone. For the most part I did. Well until it was time to protect her from me.
The day I knew I was in love with my best friend was the day she fell from the Oak tree in the club house courtyard and broke her arm. We were climbing up to escape the sun, and all the younger kids chasing after us. Kendall was always such a sweet gentle kid. She hated to upset the little ones by saying she didn’t want to play with them, and they, well they like everyone else were drawn to her. Just like I was. That day I climbed up to the first overhanging branch, and was reaching down to help hoist her up when she lost her footing and slipped.
You know the second when you see the panic, the fear in someone’s eyes before they fall? Kendall never had that look. She looked at me like she knew I’d save her. Catch her before she fell. The look of trust in me was overwhelming. I didn’t know what that look was back then, but I worked it out a few years later. She looked at me like she loved me. That was the first time I didn’t save her. That I let her get hurt. It wasn’t the last however. As she fell Kendall screamed my name. Over and Over she screamed for me after she hit the ground. I scurried down as fast as I could without falling, and landing on her. By the time I got down uncle Max was there cradling her in his arms stroking her hair. He didn’t look at me in a way that blamed me. He just looked sad.
That was the first day I ever felt ashamed of myself. For the first time ever I felt deep, soul affecting shame. I won’t lie. I pussied out after that. I was scared seeing Kendall hurting so much. I was scared she’d blame me for not catching her. Be angry with me for not saving her, so I ran. I ran and ran until dad came to find me. I was hiding behind the tool shed on the far corner of the club house compound where I did nothing, but cry. It was the last time I remember crying until the night I tore my Kendall to shreds. The night I broke Kendall many years later I went home. I made my way through the dark streets. Opened and closed the back door. Went down the hall straight into my bedroom where I curled up on my bed, and screamed into my pillow soaking it with tears until I couldn’t cry, or scream anymore.
The day Kendall fell my dad didn’t look angry with me, or ashamed of me for not saving her. He looked worried. Scared even. About me.
“Boy. Where you been?”
I couldn’t stop crying. I was close to throwing up I had been crying that long and hard.
“I, I, I di-didn’t sa-save Kenny dad.” The tears dripped from my chin landing in big wet splats on my shorts. Lifting me to stand me in front of him dad crouched tilting my chin so that I could look into his face.
Dads’ always been a big guy. Shit. A huge guy really. Six foot four, 240 pounds of muscle, and nothin but muscle. He’s got dark hair like mine, but so long it has to be tied in a permanent man-bun at the back of his head. He looks scary to some, but to me he’s always just been my dad.
“Now listen hear, Boy. Dry those tears, wipe your nose, and get it together. That little girl has done nothing, but ask for you, for the past three hours. She told me, and her mom she needs to see you to make sure you’re okay. She’s worried about you boy, so get it together and let’s go see our girl.”
Hearing that Kenny was worried about me. Not her broken arm. Not her falling, and me not saving her. But that she was only worried about me did something to me. My chest felt all warm and fuzzy. It felt like my belly was doing somersaults. I didn’t know how to explain, or define the feeling back then. It wasn’t till later I realised it was my first adventure into love. Brushing off my shorts, and rubbing my eyes with the back of my hands I told my dad,
“Okay. I’m ready to go see Kenny now dad.”
From the minute I saw my Kendall so tiny and tucked in that big hospital bed with her little arm in that big purple cast, purple was her favourite colour and still is, the way her pretty lips spread into the biggest smile when I walked in I knew that day I fell for Kendall for sure. I fell hard. It became a love that is deeper than that you have for your friends. More pure than the love you have for your family. Even more beautiful than the love you have for your child. I knew then this love will be one that lasts the ages. One that will never die. No matter what happens. I knew that day I would love Kendall forever. Pity I fucking destroyed her love for me. I crushed the beautiful, smart, sexy girl that was, and still is, my everything. It’s a shame I couldn’t see past my own nose to see that Kendall was meant to be in my world.
Ripping me from my sweet memories of Kendall the she bitch screams,
“Yes. Yes. Oh fuck yes. Do me Dec. Harder.”
Grabbing my ass the bitch digs her nails in making me snarl.
“Jesus Christ. Pull back on the claws.” Grunting I shove into her to try and make sure I ended this shit quickly. Roughly slamming my thumb down, I grind it on her clit.
“I’m, I’m coming. Blow now Dec. I wanna feel you come.” It isn’t gonna happen. I never does. Fuck knows why she bothers requesting it. We both know once I pull out, and made my way to the bathroom locking the door I’ll deflate, or jerk off ending it myself. I never come in her. Ever. Not only am I smart enough to double wrap my junk. I haven’t come in the bitch since the night I planted my baby in her. I’d never meant to come in her then either. The fucking condom broke, and here we fucking are.
I’d been blowing and goin for three years when I got together with Isabella Carmichael. Until half way through senior year of high school she’d been nothing, but a blip on my radar. Shit I hadn’t fucked her then, and even the girls I had were barely a blip. Which could only mean she was less than that. Barely a star in my orbit. I was hung the fuck up on my best friend. I knew that I had needs, and when I had just turned fifteen those needs overtook me, and my rationality. I was a horny fucking kid, and I seriously needed to fuck some of my frustration out. Lusting after and loving your best friend for six years will do that to a kid.
I would never touch Kendall like that though. She was too young. Too innocent. She was everything that was perfect and bright in this world. There was no way I would be willing to dirty that up because I needed to get laid. I wanted to wait for Kendall to be ready. Show me in some little way she wanted me like that too. I wanted to be a better man for her. I wanted to make it perfect. So at fifteen I found chicks that were fun. One’s that were easy, and knew how to keep their mouths shut. Unless they were takin my cock that is.
First chick I fucked was a girl named Liz. She was two years older than me, and loose as fuck. Her morals and her pussy. She fucked anything, and at the time I can remember thinking it was good. At least she’d know what she’s doing, and I was right. The bitch was hot and wet. She sucked cock like a hoover sucks carpet and I felt nothing. Well sure my dick did, but my head kept screaming at me to stop. That it wasn’t who it wanted, and my heart. Well that stupid fucker probably cried because it wasn’t Kendall he was getting.
Billy my friend since pretty much as long as Kendall and I had been friends told me it was just fucking, guys didn’t need to feel anything. Hump and dump he called it, and shit if that didn’t become my motto until I met the Demon Bitch, Isabella. I’ll admit where some chicks are star struck with celebrities I was pussy struck by Isabella in the beginning. Isabella Carmichael was one hot bitch. All legs, tanned, and tits that I knew would fill my big hands perfectly. The first time she went down on me, in the locker room no less should’ve known she was one classy bitch even back then, it was out of this world. The first time I fucked her it was nothing short of fan-fucking-tastic. Or so my horny teenage body told me.
She was wild, and I don’t mean just gave as good as she got. Isabella wanted me to bend her over and spank her, fuck her ass. Even going as far as to do a threesome one time with me and Billy. That was at her request too. Where most
dudes would be ‘Hell yeah’, Billy seemed a bit put off by the idea resisting for a good long while. At that time though, what my crazy sex-crazed girlfriend wanted she got. I called in a favour and Billy got down and dirty with us.
I have to say it wasn’t what I thought it would be. Where I was thinking it would be hot as shit. In actuality it was weird, messy, and involved a whole hell of a lot of fumbling and cursing. After that night I vowed to Isabella it was the last time we’d do something like that. She pouted and carried on about it sure, but it hasn’t happened since and it never will. Thinking on it now, if I had really loved her then, or ever I would never have shared my woman. I know I sure as fuck would never EVER share Kendall with any motherfucker. Just the thought of any man touching Kendall makes my blood boil. Then and now.
Thinking of Kendall my cock comes to life, and damn if the demon bitch doesn’t notice.
“Oh Dec. You want more of my pussy baby? You know I’m happy to give you more any time you want it.”
Shoving off her roughly I grimace. I look down at her and rip the condom off my quickly shrivelling dick I reply to her with undisguised disgust.
“Fuck off Isabella. You know the only reason I’m even fucking here is because I have to be. If it wasn’t for my kid you’d be fucking gone, and I’d have some fucking peace.”
Cackling at me she sits up baring her tits smirking,
“So dramatic Dec. You know the deal. You want to see your rug rat you stay married to me, and fuck me when I say. That, or you can take your chances in court. Let’s just see how much visitation they give a fucking uneducated biker that dabbles in illegal activities. Sure would be a shame if that pretty baby never did see her dad again wouldn’t it.” There you have it. This is exactly why my life is fucked.
I stay with the Demon Bitch because I have no doubt in my mind that she will take my kid and run if I divorced her ass. Shit. I’ve even considered killin her, making it look like an accident. I know my brothers in the club would be on board with that plan. We’ve even discussed ways to follow through with it when we’ve been drinking. They fucking hate her too.
To add insult to injury Isabella doesn’t even love her daughter. I question whether she cares about her at all some days. Since the day Lexi was born she has barely spent any time with her. Night feedings, me. Diaper changing, me. Toilet training, teaching her how to walk, rocking her to sleep while she’s teething, all me. I don’t mind. I’ll never begrudge my daughter a fucking thing. I love the times I get to spend with my baby. All of them without exception. They are the times I live for.
My dad loves Lexi. Max dotes on her as does Priest. Breanna adores her, and Kendall. Well Lexi is madly, deeply, irrevocably in love with Kendall just like her dad. You’d think after knocking some bitch up, and her havin my kid Kendall would have stayed far, far away from Lexi. No. Not my Kendall. She embraces Lexi like she does everything else. With her whole heart. Fuck but I love her. For that and every-fucking-thing else she does.
While Isabella was still in hospital after havin Lexi, no doubt playing the sympathy card like she does everything else because who needs to stay in hospital for a week after having a complication free delivery, Kendall came in with a fucking huge bouquet of flowers for Isabella. A cigar for me, and a teddy bear dressed as a princess with a little bonnet and booties for Lexi to go home in. Seeing Kendall in that room brought something home for me, and it did it hard. The horrific feeling I was in an unavoidable car crash when Isabella told me she was pregnant was not because I was going to be an eighteen-year-old dad. It wasn’t because I would still be a fucking prospect earning shit money when I was a parent to a small baby. No. It was because the baby that I was going to have would have the wrong mother. Her mother should have been the woman standing across the room from me. The one peering in the plastic hospital bassinet with wonder and joy in her eyes. The woman that would love my daughter unconditionally with every part of herself, and lay down her life for her.
Lexi’s mother should not be the dirty whore I’m married to. The one that doesn’t tuck her kid in. Doesn’t read to her, or kiss her goodnight. Shit. I’m lucky if the bitch even washes my daughters’ clothes. She’s complained often enough that she doesn’t want her own clothes getting ruined because Lexi’s clothes dirty hers up in the machine. No. Lexi’s mom should have been Kendall. Realising that was like a full force kick to the chest by a thousand pound bull.
Of course Kendall was respectful enough to ask my fiancée, yeah I’m a dumb motherfucker, (the bitch demanded I make an honest woman out of her if she was having my kid), if she could hold our little one. The affect her sweet voice had on me saying ‘your’ little one was huge. It killed. Literally breaking another piece of my heart off in the process. I didn’t think I had more of it to lose, but obviously I was wrong, and I did.
The Demon Bitch, or DB for short, that’s what all the brothers’ call her anyway, cottoned on to the fact she could turn the knife a little more for Kendall and played it up big time. I don’t know what her problem is with Kendall. In the beginning I thought it was cute that Isabella wanted to spend all her time with me. I didn’t recognise the manipulation, or the hateful way she pushed Kendall into the background. Later however, I recognised it for what it was. Isabella was a self-centred bitch that wanted all my attention on her, and only her. Kendall was a roadblock that she summarily drove over and crushed.
Isabella smiles a cruel smirk that promises all kinds of shit. She answers Kendall before I have the chance.
“Sure Kenna.”
Grunting at Isabella I correct her. I shouldn’t have bothered she was only riling Kendall up. Me as well to be honest.
“Kendall, Isabella. Her name is Kendall.”
“Silly me. I’m forgetting things all the time these days. Being pregnant and giving birth takes it out of you. Know what I mean?” Turning on the saccharine sweetness and batting her eye lids at Kendall Isabella leans into me wrapping her arm around my waist.
Playing happy families. I see her game for what it is, but what can I do? I’ve done this. I made my bed, and now I have to lay in it. I fucked up then further fucked up monumentally when I cast my best friend aside like she was no better than yesterdays’ trash. Kendall didn’t miss a beat though.
“It must have been really hard on you Isabella. She’s gorgeous. You must be so proud.” Tucking the tiny bundle wrapped in pink cotton into her arms, Kendall runs a finger down Lexi’s cheek smiling at her. “Does she have a name yet? She’s so pretty. I bet she has a gorgeous name to match.”
This is when I wrecked my Kendall.
“Her name is Alexis.” I told her. When they say in movies that a person has crumbled in on themselves dying a little inside I thought that was all bullshit. Until I saw Kendall do it with my very own eyes.
Since we were eleven Kendall had told me that she wanted three kids. Two boys she would name Kane Declan, and Jerimiah Max after her dad and me, and my dad and Uncle Max. She wanted one perfect little girl named Alexis Rose. Rose after her mom Brenna Rose. To Kendall it was set in stone. There was no persuading her otherwise. I knew that. I’d heard her every time she said it, and even though I was just a kid too I knew that those kids would be mine and hers. As far as I was concerned she could name them whatever she wanted as long as she had them with me. Yeah. I told you I was an asshole.
If this is all I can have of my Kendall I’ll take it regardless the pain it causes her. I know it has to burn. Hurt her deeply that I stole her baby girls’ name. A baby that should have been hers dammit. Not missing a beat Kendall sighs heavily looking down on my daughter.
“It’s perfect. She’s perfect. It fits her beautifully.” Placing my daughter back in her bassinet she turns to us and gives me another gift. “If any of you need anything, and I do mean anything please let me know. I’d be happy to help any way I can.”
That’s my girl. Willing to help even in the face of being crushed. Not one to miss making shit worse Isabella delivers anothe
r blow just because she can.
“Oh thank you Kennedy. I’m sure we’ll be just fine though. This little family has to get themselves sorted without people meddling. If we need a babysitter for date night though, I’ll keep you in mind.”
I can’t say anything. I’m frozen on the spot. I’m fucking weak, and pathetic. Jesus. I even want to smack my-fucking-self. I just watch Kendall linger over my daughter, and nod weakly in response.
“Okay Isabella.” It’s almost too soft to hear. Merely a whisper, and with that she’s gone.
Fuck. My. Life.
To say my dad was unhappy with the turn of events would have been a massive fucking understatement. Don’t get me wrong he loves Lexi. He loves being a Grandpa, and he loves me. He does NOT love, like, or tolerate Isabella however. If he can avoid her he does. At all costs. From the second I told him I knocked Isabella up until this very day my old man gives me shit about it. He never does it around his granddaughter, but when we’re away from little ears he lets me fucking have it. After yelling at me for not wrapping my junk, and being a ‘Stupid fucking kid’, his words, mine, dad resigned himself to the fact a little person was going to be born in six and a half months, and he would just have to get the fuck over it. He never has got over his hatred of the manipulative DB though.
I ended up telling my dad everything. Starting with the hysterical crying fits Isabella had over me being friends with Kendall. The threats of abortion if I didn’t marry her. To the callous way she said she would take my little girl from me if I divorced her. Granted I didn’t fess up until about two years ago when dad cornered me after one of Isabella’s more colourful tantrums at a family hog roast.
Burnt: A Devil's Spawn Novel Page 4