by Ana Jolene
I had suicidal thoughts before. Who didn’t? Life was stressful. Just when you thought that you had finally hit rock bottom, someone always threw you a shovel. I reached my rock bottom a year ago when I was at my worst.
I had taken a handful of pain pills one night to ease my aching. Then I swallowed another handful of sleeping pills so I wouldn’t wake up. After that, I filled the tub just like now with warm water and slid in. They were a little bit harder to find, but you could find the right razors if you dug around enough at the drugstores. That was the thing about suicide. It was always premeditated so by the time I was carving into my wrists, I knew I wanted out already. I was done.
Wanting nothing more than to see the blood escape, I cut deeper. Another bead of blood bloomed on my pale skin. More. I needed more. Wetness trailed down my arms before I submerged them into the water. And then I felt nothing at all.
My eyes became unfocused, my mind a haze. I let my eyelids droop down until blackness consumed me. Later, I learned that I had fallen asleep, slid into the pinky bathwater and nearly drown to death.
Waking up in the hospital, I remembered blinking into awareness and feeling disappointment at this second chance. What the hell would I do with it?
Someone once said that that dying was easy. Living was the hard part. I had to agree. Having a mood disorder complicated my life greatly. It affected my daily activities, how I acted, how I thought. More than once I wished I could be different than how I was, but wishing only led to unfulfilled dreams and a broken soul.
One of the fallacies surrounding bipolar disorder and hypomania in particular was that it was all a great time. It wasn’t. Not when your thoughts raced through your mind so quickly you couldn’t even concentrate or have a normal conversation. Not when you yearned to do things that you knew were bad for you, but couldn’t pull yourself away from. Not when your friends and your family didn’t recognize you anymore and pulled away, deeming you “crazy.”
Before the flares, it had always bothered me when people called me bipolar, as if the disorder defined me wholly. I was a person with a disorder, yet no one ever saw beyond that once they learned the truth about me. It was the reason why I never told Hanna my last name on the day she hired me. If anyone knew, they’d see me as that crazy girl and not as Indy.
After the flares, no one knew who I was. For the time being, I could pretend I was normal, even if it was a lie.
I was tired with feeling broken. Every part of me was fragmented, a little cracked, but I didn’t believe I was on a destructive path any longer. I had made it this far on my own.
I only wondered what Hastie would think of me once he knew the truth. A part of me never wanted him to know, if only so that he could never look at me with pity in his eyes, seeing only my disorder and erasing all traces of what made me, me.
I was willing to lie to myself in order to feel loved by a man I barely knew.
I wanted to feel.
I wanted to live.
And if that meant hiding a part of myself for a little bit longer, I would do that. No one was going to take my life away from me again because I had finally decided I wanted to live it.
Hastie
There was a shitstorm happening outside. The rain banged against the windows as if trying to get inside. As the girls got cleaned up upstairs, I took in my surroundings. Beige walls. White furniture. Nice floors. Even without proper lighting, I noticed that there were a lot of loose papers scattered everywhere.
Seven came down the stairs, her hair tied up in a damp braid. She began lighting the candles that were placed strategically in the house before settling down on the floor next to the couch Lucky was sprawled on.
As each candle was lit, it gave off a soothing glow, adding to the overall illumination in the room. My eyes kept looking towards the stairs, hoping to see Indy coming down them. What was taking so long?
When Indy descended the stairs, she looked different. Wearing no makeup, her hair was still damp from her recent shower. Her eyes met mine and I smiled, but she didn’t immediately return the gesture. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing.” I didn’t buy it for one second. Her response was far too automatic. When she sighed, I could feel her fatigue. She walked over to the other couch where I sat down beside her, wrapping my arm over her shoulder. She didn’t fidget or back away and for that, I let out a sigh of relief. “I fucking hate these blackouts,” she gritted. “You never know when the power will come back.”
“How long do you think this one will last?” A grin curled Lucky’s lips. “We could take bets on it.”
Seven looked to the window as if the blacked out sky held the answer. “I’ll give it a week.”
“We haven’t had one that long since the first flares six years ago. What makes you think this one will be that long?”
Seven lifted a delicate shoulder. “I don’t know. I just feel it.”
“Fair enough.” Lucky’s eyes shot to us. “You two?”
Beside me, Indy smiled at Lucky’s eagerness, erasing the worry I felt for her just a few minutes ago. I much preferred that smile on her face. She brought her finger to her lips, pursing them together. “Three days,” she said after some deliberation.
“What about you?” Lucky asked me.
“Why are you always trying to weasel money out of me?”
His grin widened even further. “Afraid you’ll lose?”
Hell no. I took a wild guess. “Four days.”
“I say tomorrow night then,” Lucky decided.
“What does the winner get?” Seven asked. She suddenly seemed very interested in winning.
“What do you want if you win?”
“I want a full tour of the clubhouse.”
Lucky was already shaking his head. “Pick something else.”
“But that’s what I want!”
“Sorry. No one but Glory members are allowed in.”
“But Indy is there all the time!” Seven protested.
“She works there,” he countered. “That’s different. Why are you so interested in it anyway?”
“Seven has an obsession with Glory MC,” Indy shared. Her best friend shot her a deathly glare that had her pursing her lips together.
“Oh, do you?”
“Shut it,” Seven sneered when Lucky laughed at her. “I just want to know what being in a biker club is like.”
“Sorry, darling, but unless you start working at Neptune’s like your friend here or suddenly get inducted into the club, you’ll only be seeing the dining area.”
Seven stuck her tongue out. “Boo, you’re no fun.”
“Pick another prize.”
“Why don’t we just stick to prize money?” I suggested. Who could say no to a few extra credits?
“Fine.” Seven crossed her arms over her chest. “And here I thought I was going to be living out my dream.”
Laughter echoed in the room. Then the loud rumble of thunder shook the house. “Whoa,” Indy said, looking towards the window. “That’s some crazy storm.”
“That’s gonna be a bitch to ride in,” Seven remarked.
I glanced at the clock. It was nearly four a.m. About time Lucky and I left. Indy turned to face us. “You guys are free to stay the night if you want. There’s no way you’ll be able to ride home in that storm.”
“What?” Seven shouted. “No way.” Her eyes darted to Lucky before landing on her best friend. “No,” she repeated more firmly.
“Seven,” Indy said through gritted teeth. “They drove us home!”
“And nearly killed me in the process!”
Indy turned to me. “Can you give us a moment?”
“Ah, sure.”
As the girls whispered to themselves for a long minute, I shook my head at Lucky who once again answered with a smug grin.
“Fine!” Seven threw her arms in the air, stomping towards Lucky before pointing a finger in his chest. “You’re to stay in this room only. If you touch any of my stuff or leav
e this room, I will gut you, understand?”
“Got it, babe.”
She lifted two fingers up to her eyes and then pointed them to Lucky in the universal I’m watching you gesture before going upstairs.
Lucky chuckled, shaking his head when she was out of sight. “She’s fucking crazy.”
Indy turned to me, smiling. “I’ll grab some blankets for you guys.” She returned with her hands full, passing a pink fluffy blanket with yellow flowers on it to Lucky. His nose wrinkled in his disgust, but the guy would never dare throw her hospitality in her face.
When she approached me, her eyes were uncertain again like the first night I was with her. It made me wonder what thoughts were running through her mind. What had changed from the moment we entered her house to when she went upstairs and came back down?
“Thanks.” I took the blanket from her and kissed her softly, afraid she’d shatter if I pushed her for more.
“Good night.”
“’Night,” I returned before she disappeared upstairs.
The night went slowly. The couch was soft, but not even sleeping on a cloud would’ve got me to catch a wink of sleep. My mind was preoccupied with figuring Indy out. I was still awake an hour later when I heard my name spoken in a soft whisper.
Tensing, I shot a look at Lucky. The guy was lights out, snoring like a baby. Had it just been my imagination?
Then I heard it again.
Sitting up, I looked around before rising to investigate. With the storm still raging, it was difficult to tell if I’d conjured this up all by myself. The hallway was empty so I moved to the stairs, craning my neck up to see Indy standing there in her pajamas, holding onto the railing. “Are you okay?”
“Everything is fine,” she assured me in a soft whisper. “But I want you to come up.”
My body jerked at the idea. “Not sure that’s smart.”
“Come on,” she pleaded. “I can’t sleep.”
Glancing at the clock, I noted it was nearly dawn. Was she always up this late? Or was the storm keeping her up?
“Indy,” I warned.
I knew that if I went up there, my control would shatter. I couldn’t be in her bedroom and not want to run my hands over her curves that I had glimpsed yesterday.
But then the look in her eyes earlier came back to me. She looked fragile, like a porcelain doll that could shatter if I held her too hard. If something was bothering her, I had to know what it was, if only to wipe away that look of melancholy off her face for just one night.
“Come on,” she said one last time before she walked away. I craned my neck farther, watching her enter her bedroom, leaving the door open. It was a blatant invitation if I ever saw one.
Did I want to go? Of course I did. But was this something she’d regret come morning? An internal battle waged on. Go. Not go. “Shit,” I muttered.
I went.
My legs ate up the stairs quickly. Then I was closing the door to Indy’s bedroom. The first thing that hit me were all the scattered papers, way more than what was downstairs. Some papers were even tacked up on the wall. The second thing I noticed was Indy’s body curled up on the bed in the far corner.
I moved towards her and whispered her name.
As she turned, a small, sleepy smile curled her lips. Seeing that made me want to experience waking up next to her with that smile on her face. She patted the area beside her. “Lie down beside me.” Sliding in, I felt the warmth from her body first. Then her cold hands as she gripped my shirt. Wordlessly, she rested her head on my chest. “Let’s just sleep.”
Sleep was the very last thing on my mind right now. “What’s going on? You okay?”
“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Just want you here.”
Relief poured over me at hearing those words. Couldn’t argue with that. “Close your eyes then. Sleep.”
I forced my body to relax. But it wasn’t easy with her body pressed up against me. Having no idea what was going on in her head or what brought on these actions, I didn’t question her as she lay on top of me. She had invited me into her bed and that was more than I had expected her to do.
Curled up on top of me, Indy looked tiny. I watched her face in the darkness. Her eyes were closed, her lashes fanning across her cheeks. She looked peaceful, but a little too still. “What’s keeping you up?”
She shifted so that her eyes met mine when she spoke, “Just thinking.”
“’Bout what?”
“Nothing. Everything. My mind just keeps running. It doesn’t want to shut down.”
“Not the storm keeping you up?” She shook her head and I held her tighter. “Is it always like this?”
“Most nights. I’ve tried everything. Nothing helps.”
There was so much hopelessness in her voice. Why? “Try to sleep now. I’m here.” And would be for as long as she’d let me.
She didn’t argue with me and that was when I knew something was truly wrong. The caveman part of me wanted to pursue it until she relented and told me what was really bothering her, but I could see the dark circles beneath her eyes. Even if she didn’t feel the need to sleep, I knew she was tired.
Indy draped her hair over her slender shoulder and snuggled into my body, making a place for herself against my side.
Turning my head away from her, I forced myself to shut my own eyes. But all I saw was the memory of her vacant ones as she came down those steps earlier. She looked as if she was trying to wipe away all thoughts and emotions from her head. She did such a good job of it, even her eyes looked soulless.
It made me wonder, what had Indy experienced that put that vacant look there?
EIGHT
Falling
Indy
My insomnia used to bother me a lot. But having Hastie around to hold me through the night got me thinking that if more of my nights were like this, maybe I wouldn’t hate my insomnia so much. Maybe I would even look forward to the long nights with him.
Before Hastie had come up, all I did was toss and turn, thinking about him lying just a few feet away. The sheets on my bed felt cold to the touch, and I desperately needed someone else to warm them.
It took me a while to muster up the courage to ask him, but as I walked to the top of the stairs and called his name out, I knew he’d come. That was the thing about Hastie. He was always there when I needed him.
Just as I knew it, he appeared at the bottom of the stairs in his jeans and a T-shirt. He was barefoot and something about that made me smile.
In repose, Hastie looked less like a threatening animal and more like a resting tiger. Up close, I could see the shadow of a beard growing on his strong jaw. It was undeniably sexy. This big, dangerous man was in my bed because I asked him to be and not once through the night did he reach over to cop a feel. Having this man in my bed comforted me more than any drug could.
The sun was out, signaling a new day and I was determined to make it another good one. Moving carefully so I wouldn’t wake Hastie, I climbed out of bed and dressed quickly. I had a bra on and was pulling on my jeans when Hastie’s rumbling voice scared the shit out of me. “Morning.”
I yelped in surprise but seeing that grin from my bed doused any irritation I had away. “Morning,” I said, dipping in for a kiss.
Hastie pulled me down, flipping me over onto my back. He grinned as he pinned my wrists to the bed. “I’m starving.”
“I could make you breakfast.”
Hastie shook his head and dropped his mouth to mine. “Not for that.” His mouth claimed mine in a scorching kiss. I curled my arms around his neck, doing the same with my legs around his waist. If we weren’t careful, this could get out of hand really quickly. Laughing, I pushed at his chest. “Let me up. I’ll make breakfast while you shower.”
“Sayin’ I stink, babe?”
My eyebrow rose up at his teasing tone. I wouldn’t have pegged him as a morning person. “You saying badass bikers don’t shower?”
Hastie nipped my bottom lip. “We like bein
g dirty.” Hearing those words come from his mouth had my tummy doing a cartwheel.
“Dirty, huh? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
“You haven’t been dirty with a badass biker yet,” he informed me.
“Hmm, you seem to be right. Closest thing I’ve had is a cowboy.”
His brows flew to his hairline. “A cowboy?”
“Yeah, you know those men who ride on horseback and—”
“I know what a cowboy is! No worries, babe. I’ll have my fill of you. You can bet on that.” That promise left no uncertainly about the state of my panties now. Definitely wet. When he straightened to his full height, I shuffled to the edge of the bed and got up.
“Giddy up,” he said, right before he swatted my ass hard enough to sting.
I glared over my shoulder at him, rubbing at the sore spot as Hastie grinned.
* * *
Within ten minutes I had breakfast ready. Omelets were the dish of the day. I made enough so that when Lucky and Seven woke, they could have some too.
When Hastie entered the kitchen, he was dressed in a plain white wife beater. The tank showed off his arms in full display, the beautiful tattoos running along one sleeve catching my attention immediately. How did I not notice that he wore a pair of dog tags around his neck?
“Smells good,” he said as he settled into the nearest chair. I handed him a glass of juice, not knowing what he preferred in the mornings. Did bikers even drink juice? Hastie mumbled a “thanks” and drank half of it in one gulp. Guess that answered that question.
I served him an omelet before settling into the chair opposite him. His eyes lit up as he looked down at the food. “Wow, eggs. I can’t remember the last time I had some.”
“Seven has a real talent with finding them. She won’t tell me where though.” Hastie took a bite, groaning as he chewed.
I nodded towards his dog tags. “Mind if I ask what it says?”