“Good, now give me a kiss, angel,” he demanded, tapping his finger against his cheek as he winked at me.
I leaned into him, pressing my lips briefly against his cheek before moving them to his lips. His moan was all the encouragement I needed, and I continued to kiss him, to love him, hoping wherever he was going, he’d bring the memory of me with him and when he came back it wouldn’t all be a dream.
Blackie continued to kiss me, his hand traveling down my back to my ass where he grabbed one cheek as he pulled away.
“You better get going,” he instructed, untangling his fingers from my hair.
“Yeah,” I agreed, taking a retreating step back. “Be careful,” I whispered as I bit down on my lip trying to keep the question from spilling from my lips but failing miserably.
“What happens now?” I blurted, watching as he narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Where do we go from here? I want to believe you when you say you’ll be back and we’ll pick up right where we left off. I need to believe that,” I stressed, exhaling sharply as I shoved my hands in my back pockets and shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t need you to sit there and promise me a happily ever after but I need to know there’s hope for us. I know my father will be an issue, so will the club, but I also know that I’m willing to stand up for what we have between us. I’m just not sure you are,” I whispered the final sentence.
“Hey,” he started, lacing his fingers through the belt loops of my jeans and tugging me toward him. “Look at me… you trust me?”
I cocked my head to the side and looked at him incredulously.
“Answer me,” he demanded.
“Of course I trust you,” I replied.
“Then trust when I tell you I’m going to make things right for us. I told you your mine, Lace, and I fucking meant it. I’m a selfish bastard, I take what I want and I don’t apologize for it. You and me, we’re going to make heads turn baby, turn shit upside down but we’ll come out of it standing. Just you and me. I promise you that,” he ground out, his eyes darkening as he stared back at me with a conviction to match his words.
“I believe you,” I confirmed, softly.
And I did.
My heart believed every word.
I smiled at him.
“Get your ass back to me,” I winked at him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as he released his hold on me. I turned around, struggling with each step I took that brought me further away from him.
“Lace,” he called as I reached the driveway. “I’ll call if I can,” he offered as he started up his bike.
I glanced over my shoulder at him, our eyes locked and I tried to think of something to say.
I flashed him a smile and blew him a kiss, setting my mask in place, covering my features and the crazy that was already brewing inside of me.
Once I was inside, I turned around and looked at him one last time. He revved his engine, took one hand off the handlebars to give me a two-finger salute before he peeled away from the curb. I watched him drive off until he was out of sight—I stared at the spot in front of the house where he parked and wondered if he left a trail of skid marks on the asphalt. I wondered if they matched the ones he left inside of my head.
I stepped backwards into the house, closed the door and leaned my forehead against it. It was eerily quiet inside the house and my mind.
The calm before the storm.
I pushed off the door, turned around and started for the stairs, deciding that if I went to bed, maybe I could keep my maker silent for just a little while longer. My mind has allowed me peace for too long and was due to wreak havoc any moment, viciously tearing apart the best night of my life.
I have to remind myself I’m not the insecure type.
When I love, I love harder than anyone.
I whole heartedly believe I’m exactly what Blackie needs in his life.
I can make things better for him.
I can be the one who loves him unconditionally.
The one person who rescues him from the hell he thinks he belongs to.
Me.
I can do that.
But as strong as I can be, I am also weak.
Weak to my mind.
It’s like my mind knows exactly when to strike. It’s usually when I feel like I’m on top of the world then like any true villain my mind turns on me, the thoughts flood my head and I come crashing down.
Other girls are worried about their appearances. They think they aren’t pretty enough or thin enough. Their hair is brown when it should be blonde or curly when it should be straight.
Not me.
I’m comfortable in my own skin and never wish to crawl away from it, to peel it off and replace it with something else.
In a perfect world I’d be exactly who I am, minus my head.
If I could escape my mind…I would.
It’s the only thing about me I wish I could change.
I’m not sure which is worse.
Wishing for the perfect body or wishing for a different mind.
Sometimes I desperately want to tell my story, to share with the world what it's like to be mentally ill. However, that would mean accepting I am flawed and I can’t bring myself to do that.