Her shoulders hang down, she turns her head towards the window and starts drawing circles on her long legs with her fingernails. "Well, since I've never talked about this, I don't know where to start." I just want to touch her. To smell her again. She was like the air after a good rain. Fresh and new, but also like hot asphalt after the storm. Steamy and warm. She is a walking contradiction. Hard on the outside but torn apart and hurt on the inside.
I didn't mean to scare her. She was standing at Fletcher's SUV, and next thing I knew, she had grabbed my fingers off her shoulder and bent them until they popped. I was mad from the pain at first. Then I looked down and saw her wrapped around herself on the ground, and my heart was in my throat. I've been there. I recognized her glazed over vacant eyes. I’ve seen it before in myself reflected in the mirror. Man, I feel like shit for putting her in this position.
"Start from the beginning then. Everything has a beginning." Nodding her head and pushing her shoulders back, strengthening herself for memories she doesn't want.
"Well, everyone knows the start. Mom laid down for a nap and never woke up. I was there holding her when she started gasping for breath. I only saw her eyes open one more time, when the EMT pulled them open to check. That's how I'll always remember my mom. Laying in my arms, dying. We had the funeral, and the next thing I know, I was learning what life was really like. People I never knew showing up at our house. Things were happening. I just didn't understand,” she pauses and takes a few deep breaths.
“I didn't want the confusion and stress that was pushed on me. So, I did what I do best. I ran. I met a man named Robert. He was 17 years older than me and he promised me the world. I was so desperate for happiness that I believed everything he said. Never even questioned it. Pathetic, right?” She sighs heavily.
“It was okay for a little bit. He wasn't perfect, but we had a good time. Then one day, he snapped at me for leaving hair in the bathtub. I thought he was just having a bad day. Then there was the screaming for not having his breakfast ready when he woke up. I found his secret cell phone. Tons of messages from young girls like me. He promised them the same things that he did to me. Love and friendship. He went crazy when I confronted him. He pushed me into the dresser and screamed in my face. I still remember the knobs pushing into my back. When he let me go, I ran for the phone. He jerked the cord from the wall and threw it across the room. I didn't know what to do, so I just started crying and begging. It made him even angrier. He locked me in the closet for 4 hours. Only to be pulled out and kicked in the stomach and chest repeatedly. Never the face though. He didn't want any obvious visible evidence of his crimes.” She starts to shrink away again.
“It just got worse. Not every day, but every few days he would go off about something. I was scared to even talk or look him in the eye. It got to the point he would leave me for over forty-eight hours with no food or drinks. I wouldn't have my car or a phone. If I tried to tell anyone, he would make me look crazy and lie about everything. He had his friends believing I was the cheater and insane. The last time I tried to reach out for help, he beat me so bad I had broken ribs and fingers. He dragged me to the closet by my hair just to lock me away for 12 hours as punishment.”
I can see the ghosts of the memories playing behind her eyes now. “I soon found out he was doing hardcore drugs and drinking. Bribing women to sleep with him in trade for drugs. If he couldn't get a woman to sleep with him, he would come for me. I knew better than to fight back. I would just get the shit kicked out of me and it hurts to get fucked with a broken rib. Finally, one day he came home after being gone for days, strung out on meth. He wanted a blowjob or quick fuck. He fell on the bed, and his eyes rolled back in his head, and I lost it. I've never felt like that before. I just wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to feel just a portion of what he did to me. I needed him to suffer.”
She’s starting to shake a little as she continues, “I found a rod and beat him. I can still feel the wood in my hands. I know what it means to white knuckle something now. After he was bloody and covered in bruises, I grabbed the handful of clothes that I was allowed and took off in my car. That's how I ended up here a few months back. I've been dealing with stuff and getting my head together before meeting the Family. I didn't want to be known as Old Man's fucked up daughter. Little late now, though. I'm sure the guys will tell their parents."
Her head is down, her hands clasped. Little wispy breaths escape her throat, and I feel so much rage. I want to hunt the fucker down and skin him alive. No real man hits on a woman. Only cowards do fuck-boy shit like that. I want to reach for her, comfort her, but I don't want to scare her again. How could anyone look at this beautiful creature and want to snuff out the light coming from her? She is stronger than she gives herself credit for. She didn't just leave the fucktard. She left her mark on him as well. I would be willing to bet he has some scars to remind him of what he lost. More than that, she survived. It takes strength to make it out of a war alive, and that's precisely what she was in.
I clear my throat, hoping she will look at me. When those gold-flecked eyes reach mine, my throat goes dry. Moisture building up in the corners make them sparkle even more. I want nothing more than to protect and comfort her. "You are a fighter. Look how much you have overcome. Please don’t give up now.” I take a steadying breath, “Can I hug you? If you're not comfortable, I understand." She gives me the sweetest grin and lunges across the gear shifter to wrap her colorful arms around my waist. Her electric blue hair brushing my jaw. I feel the heavy breaths leaving her body in a shudder.
That smell of rain hits me, and I make the decision right then, I'm going to be getting awfully familiar with this little spitfire.
Chapter Eight: Holder
Fuck... That was intense. I mean, the girl annoys the shit out of me, but that was hard to watch. What happens to a person to bring them that much fear? I have seen it in grown men before. When I was standing over their bodies, but those are bad men. Killers and rapists. Even if she is a brat, she doesn't deserve that. I hope Clint is okay with her. He has gone through his own shit. Who knows maybe they will be right for each other? It's not like she would want my help. I thoroughly pissed her off with my smart-ass remarks. My face is still throbbing. That girl has bigger balls than most men I know. She might just make it in this kind of life.
The other guys are lost in thought also. I can already tell Cole and Fletcher have a thing for the Blue Demon. I hope this doesn't mess up our plans. We have been groomed to take over since we could walk. Having the new girl fuck us up now doesn't work for me. I'm tired of being under the fathers’ thumbs. I'm ready to rule.
"Do y'all think Clint can handle this? It hasn’t been long since he was the one on the ground crying." Cole looks like he could turn someone inside out, but he really is a good guy.
"He'll be fine. She was already calming down when they left. We have work to do anyway." Fletcher, still driving, fingers clench the steering wheel.
"We have work, but she is also our job. You already fucked it up. I just hope Clint can fix this. I don't want to be on Old Man's radar for hurting his little girl."