I’m fucked up after everything Pistol told me—and didn’t tell me. I got Beast and Torch to help drag the body into a truck and we buried him where no one but the crows will find him. We threw in some lime and a few other things to help make sure the dead stay dead, so to speak. Out of all of my men, I figure the safest two to lean on are Beast and Torch, but who the hell knows anymore. It’s clear that I have lost my edge when it comes to judging a man.
For that reason alone, I haven’t told any of the men yet what the bastard Pistol told me, though I can tell Torch knows something is up. If they were shocked by the shape Pistol was in, they didn’t tell me. Torch kept giving me strange looks all the way back. I don’t know what the motherfucker is thinking, but I’m sure the fact that Pistol just tipped me further into madness shows somehow.
Fuck, I feel as if there’s something under my skin crawling to get out. I’m so consumed by anger inside, I don’t think I’ll ever find my way out. I’m starting to think the darkness will claim me. I reach up and scratch the back of my shoulder, digging my fingers in so there’s pain. Fuck, I might have even drawn blood. I hope I did. I need to mark or scar myself somehow. That way, the outside will match the inside.
I need to figure out what I’m going to do with… everything. The club, the traitors, Beth… fuck, even Teena. I may not have fucked her for a year, but I keep calling on her to help me. That’s not right. Especially with Beth around now. I don’t know what I’m going to do with Beth, but the thought of her being tortured while she was in France… She made some fucked up choices, but she’s right: I did in the beginning, too. Jesus. I need to cut Teena out completely if I keep Beth here.
Teena. Christo! She came along at a weak moment and at one time, I for some reason thought she reminded me of Beth. Her hair, though dyed, had the same blonde hue. She wore the type of dresses Beth used to wear. She made me stop feeling dead inside, but she never took away the emptiness. Even as far gone as I am right now, I have to acknowledge that the emptiness is gone now that Beth is here at the club.
As I go over everything, my mind pictures Beth on the street that day. Her blonde hair shining in the sun, that white dress flowing in the wind. Such innocence and beauty and it was mine. All mine… for a time. Can I get that back? Does it still exist? She’s not the same. She never wears those dresses now. In fact, she wears nothing but long sleeves and pants that cover almost all of her body.
Could Torch have lied? Did they actually rape Beth?
Mierda! I’m so damned tired. There’s just too many games, so many fucking games that it’s no wonder I’m being pulled into the darkness. It’s always been there, calling me. Beth pulled me out of it once… With her, I felt alive in ways I never have before.
So, it’s sheer madness that brings me to her door. I hesitate before I knock on the door. You can’t go back, and there’s too much between Beth and I for what we have to ever be good again. I’m about to turn away when I hear it.
Her laughter.
So sweet and free that listening to it warms something inside of me—a spot that has probably been frozen over since she left. I turn the knob carefully. It’s unlocked. I have a key that I’ve been using at night, but still, maybe this is a sign that I should talk to her? Can she save me once again?
I don’t fully open the door. I just hold it there, cracked enough so I can hear her easily. Her vanilla and strawberry scent hits me and I close my eyes and drink it in. I imagine her in my mind. She’s probably laughing at Gabby while they play with those blocks that Gabby loves so much. She’s probably helping her build a tower just to watch Gabby knock it over. My wife and my child… together… under my roof…
I allow myself to live in the fantasy for a minute, maybe two… It’s been so long, but there’s a ghost of a feeling inside of me. Not happiness, but… close. Satisfaction. I’m about to close the door again and leave before this small moment in time can be ruined—when I hear Beth’s voice.
“That’s me. Wild Beth…”
Maybe she’s laughing with Katie? What’s she talking about, “wild”? She had a wild streak in her once, one she reserved for only me. Has another man had her since she left me?
Can I believe anything she says?
“Oh my God! Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop,” she moans again. My body tenses with her words.
Then, I hear a fucking man laughing with her.