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“By opening up to them,” I tell him with a reassuring smile. “You’ll be surprised; they’ll love you just the same.”
Pocus nods quietly, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
* * *
Pocus
It’s been two days, but Buffy still hasn’t opened his eyes. Graveyard says he’s doing well, but I’m still not convinced about keeping him at the clubhouse clinic. The poor boy looks almost unrecognizable with his swollen face and angry red bruises. The monitor's steady, low, beeping sound is the only indication that he still has any form of life in him.
I did this…I really did this to Buffy.I could have killed him.
As guilt and shame wash over me in immense waves, I lower my head into my palm. I knew that the day would come when my demons would manifest like this, but I never imagined it’d be so drastic. I thought I could hide forever behind the soundproof walls of my room while pretending to be the cool-headed president that my men knew on the outside.
I thought I could run forever.
“Prez?”
I raise my head to see Graveyard closing the door quietly behind him.
“Hey,” I greet him quietly.
Graveyard walks further into the room and comes to stand beside Buffy’s bed. He checks the monitor and steps back with a deep sigh, making my heart sink.
“What’s wrong?” I ask with a worried frown. “Is he doing badly?”
“On the contrary, he’s doing great.” Seer says, perching lightly on the edge of the bed. He pins me with a stern look. “It’s you I’m worried about, Prez.”
I furrow my brows inquisitively; a vain attempt at ignorance. “What are you talking about?”
Graveyard snorts quietly in disbelief. “What am I talking about? I think you know very well what I’m talking about. You have been sitting by his bedside for over eight hours. You’re beating yourself up, aren’t you?”
I stare quietly at the unconscious man on the bed, overcome by a fresh wave of guilt. “I almost beat the boy to death,” I say. “The least I can do is sit by him.”
“Self-pity doesn’t look good on you, Prez,” Graveyard says, his eyes boring intently into mine.
“I don’t know what to do, Grave.” I shrug helplessly. “What else can I do other than stay here and pray hard to all the gods that the boy fucking makes it.”
“I don’t know…maybe you can confront the real issue while we wait.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You very well know what I mean, Prez,” Graveyard replies firmly. “You haven’t said a word about what happened. You won’t even see or talk to any of the club members. Not even Seer.”
“What can I say to them? To Seer? To anybody?” I ask, throwing my hands up helplessly. “I let you all down. I’ll accept any punishment.”
“Fuck, Prez!” Graveyard sounds as frustrated as he looks. “This isn’t about punishment, damn it. You’ve hidden from us long enough, don’t you think? I thought we were friends, Pocus. Family…I thought you trusted me.”
“I do, man,” I reply with a shrug. I can feel myself sinking further under the weight of my helpless frustration. “It’s just...I wish I could keep that part of me hidden forever. You know, the first time it happened was when Nesce and I were at the orphanage. I beat a boy to death after he attacked Nesce. Then I ran away. After I left the orphanage, things were hard. I was always angry and frustrated. We never knew where the next meal was coming from.
“The streets aren’t for the faint-hearted. Survival was for the fittest, and I had Evanesce to protect. I couldn’t even vent to anyone, so I’d let it all out by picking fights with any random stranger. I’d get beaten to a pulp, but it didn’t matter as long as I got a few hits in. There were times when I thought I’d die from the clawing feeling in my chest. I had so much pent-up anger that sometimes I’d just…explode. And then I found out about the Ruthless Kings. After I joined the MC, things became better. I worked my way up and even became the Prez after I solved the mystery behind the old president’s murder. Things were really quiet for a while, and I thought, ‘Oh, I finally have the break I deserve.’ Until one day when I started to feel that murderous rage again. The urge was so sudden and even stronger than before. There wasn’t a trigger, so I didn’t understand what was going on. I was confused and angry at the same time. I wanted to kill, cry and hide at the same time. That day I got on my motorcycle and rode until the road blurred in front of my eyes, and I thought I’d drop dead from sheer fatigue.”
I pause heaving a tired sigh. “That was only just the beginning, though. I saw a therapist after the first few times because Nesce insisted. She finally gave my demon a name; she called it Intermittent Explosive Disorder. It didn’t make sense, but I accepted it. The sessions were good for a while, but I quit because the drugs made me feel shitty. I barricaded my room and hid in there each time I felt the urge to rage. This last time it just caught me unaware. I’m…really sorry, mon ami.”
“Why didn’t you say anything, Pocus?” Graveyard asks after a long stretch of silence. “I would have done all I could to help.”
I snort quietly. “I doubt this is the stuff for doctors and therapists, Graveyard. This thing…it’s a curse. My cross to bear. Whenever it happens, I hear strange voices in my head. They tell me to do things…disgusting things. The voices torment me. What you all saw back there in the main room…that’s me, Grave. I’m a monster.”
Graveyard places his hand over mine, and I could feel the warmth of his touch in my heart. I raise my eyes to him, feeling some of my shame ebb away from the compassion I see in his eyes.
