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Prologue
To say my day wasn’t the best is an epic understatement. An elderly resident peed on me. Another vomited and when trying to miss me, ended up decorating my shoes with last night’s dinner. And to top it off, I had to walk home in the rain after the daily forecast said we were in for a day of sun and warm weather. All because my car wouldn’t start, and I couldn’t get a hold of my brother to help. My body sags with fatigue and all I look forward to is a hot bubble bath and a large glass of wine while sitting in front of the TV.
Unlocking my front door, I slam it shut more aggressively than normal and kick my shoes off. I’m about to strip out of my wet clothes when a bump from above stops me. Matt said he was out searching for a job today and then checking in on his dad but as I glimpse around for something to protect myself with, I notice his trainers are still on the shoe rack. I’m about to call out his name when another bump fills the air and then a laugh. A feminine giggle. My heart pounds as I pick up Matt’s cricket bat. His deep voice hits my ears but it’s too muffled to make out what he’s saying. Creeping up the stairs, I tighten my grip on the bat and stand outside my bedroom door. The door is never closed. I hate closed doors. It reminds me of having to hide behind them one too many times as a child.
“Oh fuck, you’re so tight, baby.”
“Oh, Matt.”
For a split second, I think the feminine voice belongs to Bethany. But that can’t be right. She’s my best friend and has always had a dislike for Matt. She’s constantly on at me to kick him out. He’s too lazy, he mooches off of me, he’s too immature, and so many other reasons. Her list is endless. And while I agree with most of them, she never saw how he loved me, or I loved him. I’ve seen first-hand that love isn’t easy and not everyone’s perfect, so I explored beyond his faults and clung to the good in him. The moments where he holds me in the night when there’s a thunderstorm, or when he strokes my cheek as he tells me he loves me. It’s these moments I chase.
My hand is shaking as I reach for the handle. The blood rushing between my ears drowns out every sound around me. It takes every ounce of strength I have to open the door and when I do, my heart stops and drops into my gut.
My best friend is bent over on all fours and Matt, my boyfriend, is pounding into her, on my fucking bed.
Every inch of the room blurs into one mashup of reality and I drop the bat. Nausea rolls through me, and I sway on my feet. My best friend and my boyfriend. Only when I pick the bat up, my hands are slick with blood and the tip of the bat is splintered down the middle. Blinking long and slow, Matt is unconscious on the floor, and Bethany is whimpering, covered in blood, on the bed. I don’t remember causing this carnage, but I feel sick at the scene I must’ve created. They betrayed me. My best friend and my boyfriend.
Siren’s pierce through the bloody silence and I know there was a reason I hated my neighbours, the nosy bastards. Did they hear their screams? There had to have been screams. The bat slips from my grip and I grab my phone. I quickly send an X to Louis. Our code for trouble. Even if I’m arrested and gone by the time he gets here, he’ll find out what happened and get word to me somehow.
Time speeds up and I contemplate running, but the heavy boots running up the stairs block my only exit. Besides, where would I run to? I could run to my brother. He would help me disappear but what kind of life would that be? And in doing so, it would only bring heat to the club, and I wouldn’t do that to the men, me and my brother call family.
An officer yells but I can’t make out what he wants to know. I spin slowly and two officers fill the doorway to the bedroom. I watch as their eyes take me in and then as they scan around the room. One steps closer slowly, his hand going for his taser and the other speaks into his radio clipped to his chest.
Fuck being tasered. I lower myself down onto the floor, face first on the carpet and the first thing I feel is the officer's knee digging into my spine as he rips my arms behind my back.
This isn’t my first dealings with the police but it’s usually everyone else in my life being the ones hauled up in cuffs. When I was a kid, Louis and I knew most of the police officers by name because they were at our house so much.
In the dimly lit room, a heavy silence hangs in the air, intertwined with tension and raw emotion. The venomous words of the police officer echo in my mind as I’m read my rights.
The anger, hot and consuming, courses through my veins, causing my muscles to tense and my body to tremble. It radiates outward, like a fiery aura enveloping me while flames of resentment are cast towards Matt and Bethany.
As my gaze fixates on them, my eyes seem to blaze with an intensity fuelled by a mixture of righteous indignation and a haunting sense of loss. The image of Matt's face split open, a stark reminder of the physical pain he endured, lingers in my mind, the stillness and absence of movement from him a chilling manifestation of my unleashed fury. And yet, even witnessing such a sight does little to satisfy the depths of my anger. Bethany, her face swollen and displaying the initial signs of bruising, becomes an embodiment of her betrayal that has severed a once unbreakable bond.
I stumble down the stairs as the officer pushes me, but his firm grip stops me from falling face down to the bottom. All I hear are motorcycles. A lot of them.
“Shit,” the officer mumbles, stopping us from stepping outside.
Seeing my brother riding up the street, I know everything will be okay. Even though horror covers his face. I catch my reflection in the front door window, and I see why. The scene from that movie where the girl ends up covered in pig’s blood comes to mind. Blood stains my skin, a mix of Matt’s and Bethany’s. But not mine.
“This is Weaver. We’re going to need backup at 122 Clover Street. Possible threat from the Road Wreckers Motorcycle Club.”
I hear the officer talking into his radio behind me but all I see is burning violence in my brother’s eyes.
Slowly glancing up and down the street, my neighbours are venturing out onto their doorsteps to see what’s going on. My brother’s club has lined their bikes along the street like a protective shield. Whatever backup comes won’t be parking up directly outside the house. I’m yanked back into the house and Louis jumps off of his bike and runs toward me.
Chaos holds his hand up, signalling for the brothers to hold back and I catch his nod and I nod in return. The first time I met him, he told me life is what you make it. He thought I was worried about Louis patching into the club, but he couldn’t be more wrong. The day Louis got his full patch, I knew he would be okay. That he’d be safe.
“Step foot in this house and you’ll be placed under arrest,” the officer warns as Louis runs up the front path.
My brother being my brother couldn’t give a fuck and barrels into the house, his eyes only on me.
“Lex, you hurt?”
Not in the way he’s asking. I shake my head. He goes to lean in when the officer yanks on my arm again. Pain shoots up into my shoulders and I grit my teeth.
“Do that again and you won’t live to finish your shift,” Louis warns.
“Are you threatening a police officer?”
