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“You and Nell go. I’m tired.”
“You have to drive us, silly. I don’t have my license, remember?”
What? My eyes fly open and realize she’s not really here. “Fuck!” I need to get upstairs and get to my fucking coke. I have to get out of here. I toss the sheet away from me and try to swing my legs over the bed, but I forgot- I can’t move. The skin of my left leg is so tight from the road rash that it damn near makes me scream from the pain.
I slam my head back against the pillow.You’re a piece of shit, fucked-up, no-good bastard. You should’ve died on the highway.I throw my elbows into the bed. The rage I feel consumes me so consistently it’s almost comforting, but when I’m in withdrawal it burns a thousand times hotter. I’m screaming when Doc stabs the needle into my arm. We’ve danced this dance before. The anger fades, and I’ll wake up with my arms and ankles in those fuzzy cuffs until he decides the drugs are out of my system. Then he’ll release me, hoping I’ll stay sober and knowing I won’t.
Chapter Two
Tree
Ineed drugs. I’m finally out of the basement and back in my own room, thankfully. Doc gave me the all clear after four days in the hole. He gave me his usual speech about staying clean, but I didn’t hear a word after ‘drugs’. My mind went to the same place it is now. I check to make sure the door to my room is locked before I head to the bathroom. I do a line before taking a shower so I have time to get clean before the high really hits me.
The mirror and I stare at each other for long moments when I’m done. I used to look more human. Now I’m almost skeletal. My eyes are dark and empty. My dark hair is longer than it ever has been before. The urge to cry bubbles up in my chest, but I box it up in a coffin of numbness and bury it down deep with every other emotion I’ve felt besides anger in the last year.
The anxiety that coke gives me starts in my chest and spreads outward through my arms. I scrub the sink clean and stow all my stuff back above the ceiling tile. I have paraphernalia hidden all around my room in case someone decides to search my stuff or I need to get high to get out of bed.
I stumble down the stairs, still limping from the road rash down my side. The pain has mostly gone, but the skin on my hip and leg still feels stiff and tight. It’s hard to walk down the stairs without feeling like I’m going to burst open. Long blonde hair shining in the sunlight that streams through the entryway has me blinking. I haven't seen hair like that in this clubhouse since Layla, and I know I’m not hallucinating. "Nell?"
The blonde hair swings around when she hears my voice. "Knox?" Nell crosses to me in a few steps and wraps me in her arms.
Air hisses through my teeth as the pain shoots through me.
Nell jerks back and looks up at me. "I'm so sorry. You're hurt? What happened?" Her cheeks are puffy and her eyes are red, dripping little raindrops down her cheeks. She’s been crying for a while by the looks of it.
"I wrecked. I’m fine. What's wrong, Nellie? Are you okay?" Seeing her like this hurts the broken remnants of my heart. She looks so much like Layla it's fucking with my head. I can just hear the two of them laughing now. All they ever did was laugh together.
“That actor was so hot,” Nell whispers to Layla behind me.
Layla giggles and nudges Nell. “That’s why they put him in the movie. Duh! His whole job is to be hot.”
“Well, he’s really good at his job then.”
They’re still snickering when I come back and sit beside them on the beach. “What are we laughing about, ladies?”
They both glance at me before they turn back to each other and crack up in riotous laughter.
I wish I’d bottled those sounds and kept them with me. I never expected how much I’d miss the joy.
"I fucked up,” Nell whispers to me. “Layla told me… that you'd help me. Before she…" Layla’s little sister is only a year and a half younger than she was, and they look-lookedlike twins.
"What is it?" The Reed sisters know me best as the guy who fixes things. I always have fixed everything they screw up or don’t get quite right. Layla and Nell both knew what I do with the club is dangerous sometimes and can have some unwanted side effects, but the club and I provided so many things for them that they grew used to it.
Nell peers around behind her at the few other Kings hanging around in the common area. "Is there somewhere else we can talk?"
"Yeah. Sure. We'll go to my room. Come on up." The pain in my leg is gone now, washed away by the everflowing Narcotic River in my blood. When we walk in, I swipe a little baggie off the nightstand and into the drawer, slamming it shut. I must’ve forgotten it was there last night when I fell asleep. The last thing I need is Nell getting involved in my habits.
Nell looks around the room curiously. "You're staying in the clubhouse again?"
"It's just been really hard, ya know?" I can’t stand to be in that big house all by myself. Layla made the house a home for years, and now it’s just a mausoleum for happy memories that don’t feel happy anymore.
"Yeah,” she drops down on the bed and looks at me. “I do know. I miss her so much."
I take a seat next to her and throw my arm around her shoulder. I can’t remember how to be comforting or normal at this stage, but I’m doing my best. "I do too. Tell me what's going on, Nell. What am I supposed to help you with?"
Nell wrings her hands together in front of her nervously. "David, my boyfriend, we've been having problems.” She pauses and clasps her hands together so tightly her fingers turn white. “I told Lay not to tell you. I didn't want you to do anything. There's rumors about you guys, you know?”
I do, because they’re true. We are the violent, deviant, outlaw criminals they paint us to be. Anger flares through me at the unspoken meaning behind her words. "Did he hit you?"
