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“That isn’t surprising. If my mom was comfortable enough to tell you about it, then she let her guard down. She was being vulnerable.” That right there tells me that Presley is the one for me. I will never let her go. She is about to hear the most depraved thing I have ever done. I would like to think I am a good enough man to let her walk away from me after hearing it. But I’m not. I would follow her.
“After my dad died, I had to take on a lot of responsibilities around the club. At the time, Killer, who was Rage’s dad, was still the president, so I had to work with him, and it was hard. He didn’t care about anyone or anything and would do anything to get what he wanted. Luckily, he didn’t fully trust me, so I was left alone most of the time. I still had to plan routes and trips we would take, but he didn’t involve me in much else. Half the time, I didn’t even attend church. He knew Rage and I were close. He didn’t trust Rage, so in turn, he didn’t trust me.
“There is a lot more to it, but we don’t need to dive into talking about all of that. The gist of it is, I was here a lot and not around when my mom and Jana needed me. So when I got the call that those three boys had hurt my sister, I was raging on the inside. When I got there, she was okay. She was hurt, but she was alive. She was struggling every day to stay afloat, and I left her alone to go to the club and work. Rage and the others remind me every day that I didn’t have a choice. I had to go to the club when called. But it still bothers me.”
I take a deep breath and let my words sink in. For the first time in ten years, I wander to the darkest depths of my mind as I tell Presley what happened that week.
From birth, there is this intense connection that forms between twins. It almost feels like a tether that keeps the two of you attached. But the second one of you leaves this earth, that tether is shattered. And when it breaks, it snaps back and hits you in the face so hard it leaves scars. Scars that can never be fixed.
Our connection is dying. My twin is suffering. I feel it. She lives in my heart. Jana is a part of my heart. She keeps me good. She keeps me from turning into my father—or worse, Killer. But as I run into the hospital with my best friends, Stone, Rage, and Sugar, at my back, I feel the connection dying. It’s breaking off piece by piece. The part that keeps me warm, that makes me feel loved, it’s crumbling right in front of me and I can’t get there fast enough to stop it.
“It’s going to be okay. Jana will be fine, Jack.”
Jack. The name I go by. Jana started it. She said Jackson is just too much, so she started calling me Jack, and now all my close friends and family do. I don’t have a road name yet for the club. Killer believes it has to be earned. Even though after prospecting, when you become a member, you are supposed to get one. But Killer doesn’t play by those rules. According to him, I haven’t earned a road name yet.
“Something is wrong,” I snap as we wait for the impossibly slow elevator to take us to the right floor.
Stone rests a hand on my shoulder, not bothering with words like Rage does. The second the doors open, there is a straight path to her room. My world crumbles as I watch the bed being pulled out of her door with Jana on it.
People are running around yelling and there is beeping. Loud beeping. Screaming… someone is screaming.
My eyes zone in on the wheels. The wheels of the bed… they’re red. They are leaving a red stain on the floor as the bed is pulled further down the hall. Further from me. Snapping the tether. My eyes follow the tracks of the blood on the floor from where it came from.
My world comes to a halt as I take in the room. The pale, ugly white room is splattered in red. Red paints the machines that sit on either side of where the bed should be. There is blood splattered all the way up to the ceiling tiles and down onto the linoleum floors.
Along with my mother.
Who stands in the center of the room, her hands tainted red, small droplets dripping from her fingers onto the floor.
The sound would be deafening in this space if it wasn’t for the screaming. The screaming that drags me down to the depths of hell where my heart will now reside.
My mother meets my eyes as I stand in the doorway, stuck. Watching her scream. Her eyes flutter as she lets out another ear-piercing scream and drops to her knees. Her head falls forward onto the ground as she continues to scream and sob.
I can’t move. I can’t step forward and comfort her.
How do I comfort someone when I no longer have a heart? What is compassion without my sister? How do I love and show kindness without the good side of me?
We were connected. Jana was my good.
I take a step back as nurses race in past me, a doctor following them in. They restrain my flailing mother. Her forehead is smeared with blood, her clothes, arms, and hands are covered in red from where she had dropped to the ground in Jana’s blood. Tears soak her cheeks as her eyes meet mine through the doorway.
They inject her with a sedative, and I watch as her eyes droop. The second her eyes are closed completely, I spin on my heel and run.
It’s the end of day three. It’s been two nights since I have been away. I know they can’t find me. And they won’t be able to until I allow it. I turned my phone off the second I left the hospital. As Road Captain, I know every road you can possibly take. Which means dodging my best friends who were trying to follow me was easy. I lost them quickly. Then I ditched my bike at a random bar and stole a truck.
Now we are in a warehouse somewhere over an hour away from home. The three fuckers who hurt my sister, who brought her to the point of killing herself, are in front of me. They aren’t tied to chairs anymore. One, I enjoy the fight. And two, they can’t walk.
The truck I stole had an axe in the back of it. That axe has been my best friend since day one. We’ve recreated the red scene from the hospital. The screams, too.
I have taken my time making each one bleed.
One at a time.
Day one was the kid who is the ringleader. He is the puppet master. Currently, he is curled up in the corner of the room. I took the axe to his knees so he can’t get away. He doesn’t have any fingers left either. Luckily, I was able to start a fire and get the axe hot enough to put it over the finger stubs so he wouldn’t bleed out.
Day two was dedicated to the second asshole. He had taunted my sister. I remember one time when we were younger, I caught him telling her she was fat. Jana was far from fat. So I told him he was looking a little fat but not to worry, I’d help him lose the weight.
After chopping off pieces of skin and fat, he was barely alive on day three, falling in and out of consciousness. Day three was set for the last guy. He was still tied to a chair, tears streaming down his pathetic face while he screamed and tried to break out while I tortured his friends.
