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I squeezed her hand. “You arenotbipolar… you have bipolar disorder. It doesn’t define who you are, it’s just a part of who you are.”
Her eyes started to well, and she squeezed my hand back. I could tell how much those few words meant to her like no one had ever taken the time to explain it that way before. She grew up in a world where secrets and problems were hidden away from society, and you plastered on this mask of perfection. She was looked at like she was an outsider, and she was made to feel shame and disgust toward this part of her personality that she could never change.
And I wanted to punch every single one of those people in the face.
Who were they to say that that part of her was not welcome?
Family should be accepting of the people they cared about, loving them as a whole despite their flaws. We all had them. The club was full of men and women alike, who all had pieces of themselves missing or things that they struggled with daily, but as a family, we supported those people. We never looked down on them because of their problems.
“That’s not where it ended,” she whispered, her body tensing up.
I held her hand in mine, preparing myself for anything she could lay on me. I knew though in my heart it would never change how I felt about her.
“I’m married,” she said, her body curling in on itself and a tremor running through her. My mouth went dry, it opened and closed, but I was unable to find any words. She took in a harsh breath, and her fingernails dug into the arm of the sofa as she continued, “His name is Peter Davenport, we’ve been married for over six years.”
The math wasn’t hard to figure out, but I was still shocked. “You were married before you met Optimus?”
“During,” she answered, turning to look me in the eye. “We got married the day I left pregnant with Harlyn. Op never knew, and finding out about Harlyn and Op’s decision to send me away to protect me was my saving grace and when he offered, I jumped on it.”
I grabbed my cap and twisted it so it was on backward, scrubbing at my short hair first before placing it down. “I don’t fucking understand. Who is this guy, and why’d you need to hide from him?”
She gestured to the sofa. “Sit down…please.”
I clenched my jaw but did as she asked, turning my body to face her as she took a seat at the opposite end. “Peter was a man my parents had chosen for me to marry. Like a lot of rich and uptight families, it was all about connections and growing wealth, and who was who over real feelings and emotions.” She shook her head almost as if she was disappointed with herself. “The time he came around and starting courting me I was feeling out of place in that world already, like I wanted to run but had nowhere to go. When I met him he was sweet, almost understanding of my… illness, and started making promises that I thought were genuine. Like maybe he was the one who would give me an escape.” Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at me, the emotion in her voice a mix of frustration and shame.
“Let me guess, he wasn’t that at all,” I growled softly, finding it hard not to reach out and pull her into my arms. I wanted to comfort her and tell her that everything would be okay, but I needed all the information first because if this asshole had hurt her, I was going to bring the mother-fucker to his knees where he would beg me not to kill him.
“Peter’s family owns a company that develops and tests medications for different illnesses and disorders. They have been very successful in the past, so the brand is strong and almost untainted,” she continued to explain. “What I didn’t know at the time was that there was a specific reason he’d chosen me. He wanted to use me as his personal crash test dummy, he wanted to see just how far he could push my limits.”
I shoved off the sofa, not able to sit still any longer, the rage building inside me was taking over. I paced across the room while Sugar sat, her eyes watching me as I stomped back and forth.
“I need to know what that means. And I need you to understand that when you tell me, I may get fucking upset, and angry, but that it’s not directed at you.” I knew I had to give her some kind of warning. I could feel that what she was about to say wasn’t going to make me feel any fucking better and that I would probably struggle to not storm the fuck out of here with my gun and hunt down this asshole.
She licked her dry lips and nodded. “He started me on this medication…” Her voice was husky and raw. “I’d been on others before, they worked for the most part, but I still had episodes. Peter told me that was because they weren’t strong enough.”
“What did it do?” I hissed, trying to keep myself calm but needing her to get to the point before I lost it.
She hung her head. “You already know what it did, because it was the same drug you were talking to Deacon about the other day.”
My eyes widened as I fought to remember the name of the medication Deacon had said was making waves in the trafficking business. It hit me. “‘Manic’?”
She looked up and nodded as a tear streaked down her cheek. “He got me addicted. The pills, they made me feel numb… they blocked out all the noise and the crazy, and I just kept wanting more and more.” Her hands began to shake, and the tears streamed. “It got to the point where I would do almost anything to have them… anything.”
“Fuck,” I cursed, moving forward. I bent down and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her to her feet. She grabbed onto me like I was her lifeline, sobbing into my chest as I cradled her in my arms.
“I didn’t want anyone to know,” she cried. “I’d already spent so long being looked down on for my disorder, looked at in disgust like I was dirt. And then he used it against me, turning me into a person I never wanted to be, making me an addict.”
I held her close, feeling my own tears brim my eyes as I felt her pain and anguish coursing through her body and into mine. Murder was in my veins, I could feel it burning inside me. Right now, all I wanted to do was kill him, and it wouldn’t be fast. He needed to feel the slow torturous pain that drove you to the edge of the cliff, but that wouldn’t let you jump off the side.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to me and I pulled back, hooking my finger under Sugar’s chin and lifting her bloodshot eyes to mine. “What does this have to do with you being in Deanwell’s office?”
She swallowed, her fingers digging into my club cut. “I needed to protect the people I care about, I needed to keep Harlyn from my mistakes.”
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means Peter can’t use her or hurt her to get to me… because she’s not mine anymore.”
