“You are?” 81 asks him, knowing all too well that he’s the cock Timberly mentioned to him and the one who he wanted to snap outside of the church.
“I am the ones whose cock was in that little hole before yours.” Carl’s words are causing bile to rise in my stomach. His words burn.
“Oh, so you’re the cunt who cut her.” 81 steps from the bike cracking his knuckles as Carl moves back slightly from the open window of his car.
“You like my handy work, do ya?” Carl questions and before anything else could be said 81 grabbed his head and slams it repeatedly into the steering wheel of the car knocking his ass out.
“Take me anywhere but here, 81. I can’t fight this shit anymore,” I said in a soft whisper that releases from my lips. He pushes back from the car, dropping Carl’s out cold head from his hands. He slumps down in a bloodied mess inside of his car. He steps into me; his hand is splattered in blood. He cups the side of my cheek, the heat in his touch burns my cold skin.
“I’m tired, 81. I’m so damn drained.” The pad of his thumb moves over my cheek.
I slowly sweep my eyes from his boots up to meet his deep green eyes that are usually ignited with fire only to find them somber and unreadable. “You win, he wins… I’m done. I can’t do this anymore,” I declare through a broken whisper. “I’m not doing anything, little bird. I just wanna make sure you’re safe like always. I just wanna make sure you have a place to be, well, the unique wee human that you are.”
Seconds pass by, the silent questions hanging in the balance between us. My eyes scan his. “Okay.” I clear my throat. “Take me to wherever it is that you think I need to be.”
His hands slide down to my hips, he lifts me up and places me on his bike. No words are shared. I allow him to take me wherever he needs to go. Closing my eyes as he straddles the bike and kicks up the stand, we pull out onto the street and away from the city’s lights.
The lull of the bike on open road is peaceful to my crazed thoughts. The angel and her naughty sidekick sit back and enjoy the ride. I slip in and out of sleep, holding onto 81 tight. I can feel his heart under my grip. His breathing is rapid as the wind billowing around us. It feels like hours have gone by before he pulls from the road and down a bumpy dirt track. The headlight from his Harley lighting the way through a massive maze of trees lining both sides. They are overgrown and concealing the dirt track from eyes that wouldn’t know what to look for if they hadn’t be here before. A shiver runs down my spine. If I wasn’t with 81 I would be for sure shitting my pants at the fact I'm about to be raped, murdered and cut into tiny pieces, then used as fertilizer for new trees to be planted on top of and to be fed.
Blinking away the cobwebs, the bike swings around a corner and down a slope. It opens up to a massive clearing. The full moon lights up a massive log cabin with a huge deck that met what looks like a lake lined with more tress. It’s wrapped in little lights that dance in the soft breeze like fireflies. My heart stops . This place is beautiful and I’m speechless.
Pulling the bike to a stop, he kicks the stand down and slips off the bike. He stretches out his back before his hands find my hips. He lifts me from the bike like I weigh nothing at all and cradles me tight into his chest. Taking large 81 sized steps, he goes up the steps onto the wooden deck that crack under his weight. He digs into his pocket for a key and opens the front door that's all glass, giving you auninterrupted view of the lake from the inside.
No words are spoken, as none are needed. He doesn't even flick a light on in the home as it's filled with huge windows that let enough light in to see. Wrapped in massive logs, it smells earthy and warm inside. He kicks his boots off and lowers me to the bed that sits along the back wall. The whole place is one huge room.
I watch as he removes my slippers and then my sweatpants moving up to my hoodie. I lift my arms to help him slip it up and over my head taking my t-shirt with it. A low growl left his body at the swell of my bare breasts with hardened nipples appeared. Looking back at him, I lay there in just mypanties, scars covering my body. I'm scared that he will flip his shit… ruin shit, including me, like a crazed beast, but he doesn't. He stands there shaking, his jaw clenching, as he studies each scar, each mark, each slice made by a man who hated me with a vengeance.
A tear slips from his eye as he undoes his jeans slipping them from his body. Next his cut. I watch as he shrugs it from his shoulders, then draws his t-shirt up over his head showing me his body swimming in ink and scars. Scars that are angry and red, raised and bubbled all over his body. I can't speak. I don't want to. I know just how much the memories hurt. That is the constant reminder each time you touch them, look at them, uncover them.
He slips down onto the bed next to me, pulling the covers up over us.
“I’d give everything up for you, little bird,” he whispers into my skin as he draws me into his body. Our skin touching, all of us laid bare inside the dark with just the moon and broken heartbeats between us. “You are the mostbeautiful thing I've ever seen, Jade." It hurts, the truth behind his words hurts.
He doesn’t see anything other than beauty.
“I want so bad to be inside you, little bird. To see into that unique soul.”
I swallow roughly around the desire that snatches hold of me with his naked flesh flush with mine. His words seep into the fibers of my DNA.
“Can you hold me, little bird? I know I’m meant to be the one taking away your monsters and keeping you safe, but I just really need you to wrap me in your arms. I don’t wanna be anywhere else. Can you keep the dark at bay for me tonight?” he mouths, his breath hot on my skin. He smells of liquor and weed. I have smelt that on him before when he’s turned up.
“I’m so fucking lonely, little bird. In a club full of people, I’m lonely.”
Tears threaten to fall from my eyes. I try with all I have to blink them away, to hold them back. He needs me to be more than I'm capable of. He needs me to be strong for him. For him tonight, I will bend and break silently if that means he can break in my arms. Then come morning light, I’ll piece him back together.
“I don’t know who I am without the blood, little bird, and talking to the dead.”
His words press deep into my skin, branding me with his pain. All I can do is hold him tighter, wrap him into me and allow him to break.
I struggle to form any type of logical answer or thought. To try and dispel the overwhelming drowning he is experiencing, but the desire to allow him to use me to break is too strong. It's pulsating through me taking away all space, time and thought.
I want to take his pain and make it my own. I don't want him to feel weak with me. I don't want him hide anything, yet I don't think I can handle the truths he has for me. All I want to do is heal him. But I can’t, not like this, not here, not tonight. I can give him my body to take his pain out on, to be reckless with, to break and mold it back the way he needs it to be. I can be the dark that he needs to drown in, but then we would be back to this again once the desire and adrenaline wore off.
“I constantly feel like I am at war with myself.”
He takes in a breath and pulls his body into mine deeper. His legs wrap around mine as I run my nails up his back. I don’t need to answer him - answers aren’t what he is seeking right now. And how do you form a response to what he is sharing?
“I wanted to be the man that she needed.
