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There was no middle ground with him.
I accepted that and worked with him so he could function better in society. He still hated people touching him. He wasn’t comfortable with strangers and God help me if everything wasn’t in its correct place.
When I enrolled in school, I knew exactly what I wanted to become. Not because I desired to learn the subject, but because I needed to learn everything there was about it. Becoming a special needs teacher would not only allow me to help Solomon but others like him.
While on the outside, Solomon looked just like any other man. He was strong, knew his own mind and what he wanted. But on the inside, my Solomon was a lost boy who struggled to find his place in this world.
We learned early in his training with the fire department that Solomon didn’t learn like the others did. While they were patient with him, it was Jules who pulled me aside and told me I should haveSolomon tested for dyslexia and autism.
The second she uttered those words, everything clicked.
It all made sense.
His inability to read at a certain level and how he got confused when words didn’t match up for him, almost as if the jumbled letters confused him, stalled his progress. That was an easy fix and with the tools the counselor gave him, he was able to catch up in the training program. But it was his diagnosis of high-functioning autism that rattled him.
Diagnosed late in life, Solomon missed key components that would have aided him as he grew. Now, we were starting from scratch.
Other than Jules and Daphne, Jessica was the only other person who knew the truth about my lovable man. Those women helped tremendously as we worked tirelessly to help Solomon function around other people. His club brothers still thought he was moody and standoffish, but they only saw what they wanted to see. For them, they still saw the killer the club cultivated from a young age.
But that wasn’t who Solomon was. It was an aspect, but it did not define him. Since returning to the club, Solomon has tried to distance himself from the person he was before, but it hasn’t been easy.
I worried about when the club would call on him again in that capacity.
“Sunny, is everything okay?”
Looking up from my books, I smiled at my lab professor. “My apologies. I was daydreaming.”
“You look tired. Have you been getting enough sleep?”
“Some. I’ve been studying for days, it seems. I’ll sleep when mid-term is over.”
“Don’t let school affect your health, Sunny. The classroom isn’t going anywhere.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rubin. I appreciate that.”
“You are a smart girl, Sunny. Why don’t you head home and get some sleep? Everyone else has left.”
Looking around the room, I noticed my teacher was right.
Nodding, I gathered my books and left.
He was right. I was tired.
Dropping my backpack in the front seat, I fastened my seatbelt and started my vehicle when I spotted a man standing under a tree close to where I parked. He seemed innocent enough, yet something about him confused me. He was wearing a cut. Not a Golden Skull cut but a different one and because of the darkness of the grounds, I couldn’t see it clearly. Yet, as I watched him, I realized he wasn’t watching me, but something else. Trying to see what captured his attention, I saw another man straddling a motorcycle as he glared directly at me.
Hidden under the shadows of the building, he parked near enough to me that I could see one distinct feature of this new man. A scar ran down the side of his face. Seeing that scar sent a shiver of fear down my spine. With trembling hands, I pulled out of my parking spot, keeping my eyes on the man with the scar. Something about him was familiar. I couldn’t place him. It was more of a feeling than anything else.
Heading for home, I paid attention to the road, as driving up the mountain at night was dangerous. I’ve driven it often enough to know the twists and turns, yet something inside me told me to be extra careful tonight. Rounding the top curve, I let out a sigh of relief when a motorcycle came roaring up behind me, blinding me with its headlight.
Trying to focus on the road ahead, I watched as the bike moved closer to the rear of my car. I didn’t know who was behind me, but knowing it was a motorcycle rider, I kept a vigil watch on him.
The bike swerved around me, speeding up to pass me. I tapped my brakes to allow him to swing around when my foot went straight to the floorboard. Gripping the wheel, my pulse sped up as I pumped my brakes to find they didn’t work.
Seeing a curve up ahead, my heart raced as the bike stayed beside me, jerking close to my side, making me veer to the right to avoid being hit. It was then I realized that whoever was next to me didn’t want me to stop. He was trying to make me crash.
Pressing the phone button on my steering column, I shouted, “Call Solomon!”
Dialing Solomon now, I heard through my speakers as my phone started ringing when I saw another motorcycle behind me. The man was waving his hand, trying to get my attention.
