Chapter 8
The Girl
After Priest’s bitching a couple of nights ago, I did my best to avoid him. Lennon had come upstairs with the clothes I left by the pool table, and she silently helped me sort the donated clothes in my room into two piles. One contained Ellis’s old stuff, the other was a mix of clothes donated by Lennon and one of the other club girls around my size. It was a shame that Priest had so much pent-up angry feelings toward female fashion because Ellis’s clothes fit me better than the others. I might be quirky, but I wasn’t mean, so I hadn’t worn anything of hers since.
Over a week after the T-shirt tantrum, I was antsy to collect Sheila from her van spa so we could be on our way. I had fallen into a pretty fun routine here with the LC motorcycle club, but I had to stay on the move so Uncle Roark and his douchebag band of bozos couldn’t find me. I was starting to like some of the people here, even making my first- ever real human friends…I’d hate to bring unwanted trouble to their door.
After my daily morning jog, one member or another always sat on the porch waiting to keep me company for the day. They kept alternating my babysitters, probably so no one fell too irrevocably in love with me. I tried to tone down my naturally effusive charm, but putting a bushel over such a bright light is hard. All of Bob’s creatures have their struggles, and I’m just too awesome for my own good sometimes. Duke, Priest, and Pyro were the only brothers who hadn’t been in my posse. Duke and Priest were probably too busy doing big bad biker gang stuff, and Pyro was probably not allowed to get too close to me in case I killed him. Walking back up the driveway from my run, I saw that Bones and Thor were my escorts today.
The first time I met Thor, I’d asked if I could try to pick up his hammer, and he’d smiled at me nicely while he told me no. Pouting, I asked if it made him mad that he wasn’t as dreamy as the Thor from the movies, which made Bones throw his head back in laughter. Real Thor wasn’t blond and hunky, but that didn’t mean he was ugly. He had black hair and ocher eyes, a wiry frame, and stood at about 6’3”. His eyes were his most striking feature: amber with gold and dark brown specks. Apparently, Thor is his road name, but his parents named him Knox, and he said I could call him whatever I wanted as long as I kept running every morning in the workout gear Lennon had loaned me. We shook on it, so I’ve been running and calling him Thor ever since.
Panting as I made my way to the porch, Bones handed me the bottle of water I had left on the porch while Thor eyed me up and down. After drinking about half the bottle, I turned to Bones.
“Is Sheila ready to go yet? We really need to get going. We’ve got a lot to do and a man to see about a horse, if you know what I mean.” I said, winking cheekily.
“I don’t think I do,” Thor said, canting his head to the side like a confused dog. I ruffled his hair and giggled.
“Don’t be a derpy duck, Thor. Everyone says that when they have vague important things to do.”
Thor snorted a laugh, almost inhaling the coffee he had been sipping. “Derpy duck? It’s too early for your crazy shit, Girl. ”
I narrowed my eyes. I wasn’t being crazy! I looked at Thor like the dumb-dumb he was and explained, “Yes, a derpy duck. It’s like a silly goose but dumber. Everyone knows that.” I huffed, feeling offended.
Bones took this moment to finally answer my question. “Almost, chica loca. She’s running well, and her new tires are top of the line.”
I squealed in excitement for Sheila. “What else does she need done?”
“We’re working on a new paint job, and then she’ll be ready to go. How about I take you to visit her this morning? You two can catch up.”
I bounced in place and clapped my hands, so excited to see how great Sheila looked after being pampered.“Yay! Thank you, Bones, you’re the best!” I threw my arms around him in a big hug, releasing him to rush inside so I could take a shower and get ready to go. Sheila and I needed some girl time, and today, we’d get it.
After a quick shower, I threw on a pair of black skinny jeans that were artfully ripped and a faded Nirvana T-shirt I’d cut the sleeves from. Whoever owned this shirt before me was much bigger than I was. I tied the shirt up in a knot at my left side so it didn’t hang down my thighs like a giant ’90s-themed T-shirt dress. The arm holes hung down kind of low, but my bra kept my sideboob from being exposed, so I wasn’t worried about flashing anyone. Nip slips are one thing, but no one wants a whole titty falling out of their sleeve. Like oops, excuse me, my boob just kind of got away from me there . I snickered to myself, thinking about embarrassing boob flops as I slipped my feet into my old boots, tucking a butterfly knife I’d found in someone's pocket into my right boot. My hair was tied into a high ponytail, and I was ready to go. I bounded down the stairs, passing Prospect on the way. I waved good morning to Bear and Bard, drinking their coffee at the bar, and hurried out to meet Bones on the porch.
“Less than fifteen minutes, chica loca. I’m impressed.”
I preened at his praise, doing a little spin and a curtsy.“Let’s go! I can’t wait to see my best bitch, Sheila!”
Bones chuckled under his breath and led me to a truck. He opened the passenger side door for me like a gentleman, so I hopped in.
“Why are we going in a truck? Aren’t you in a motorcycle club? Shouldn’t you ride a bike? Can I ride a bike? I wouldn’t be cheating on Sheila or anything. I think she’d understand that motorcycles are different, and I could never feel for one what I feel for her.” I turned the radio on and started looking for a song I liked, waiting for Bones to answer me.
“I do have a bike, but I thought you might be more comfortable in the truck,” he explained patiently. “Bikes aren’t everyone's cup of tea, and I didn’t know how you felt about them.”
I continued scanning radio stations until I found a song I liked. “Hmmm, well tea isn’t really my cup of tea since you brought it up. I’m a coffee girl all day, every day. You’re right, though. I’ve never been on a bike before. I bet I’d like it, though, even though bikes don’t have ample cargo space like a saucy van I know.”
“I’m sure you would, chica loca. One thing at a time, though. Let’s go see Sheila and worry about motorcycles another day.”
It wasn’t long before Bones’s truck rolled into a small Western-esque town. The sign we passed on our way in read “Welcome to Sagebrush, Nevada. Population 6,237.” Bones drove down Main Street while I had my nose pressed to the window as I greedily took in the sights. We passed a cute little town hall, a library, and a post office that had an honest-to-Bob horse-hitching post in front of it. I rubbed my hands together and wiggled in my seat with glee. If I saw a horse today, there was absolutely zero chance of me leaving town before I got to pet it, earn its trust, and braid its mane. Zero chance.
Bones pointed out Misty’s, a mom-and-pop diner, and a few other shops. There was a school and suburban area on the other side of town, but we weren’t heading in that direction today. Sagebrush was kind of like the cute little small towns I’d seen on TV, with a hint of modern-day suburbia sprinkled in. During my two years on the run from the Callahan family, I had stuck to big cities so I could be as inconspicuous as possible, but I’d always wanted to live in a cute town like Stars Hollow in Gillmore Girls .
Whenever Uncle Roark wasn’t around, my guard Dave let me watch TV and movies rented from the library so he wouldn’t have to deal with me. I never got to play with other children, go to school, date, or do any of the other normal things people do as they grow up. Instead, I watched them do it on TV and lived vicariously through television programs, movies, and the books I was able to read once I learned how .
They taught me all I know, or knew, about the world outside of the basement before I ran away. If it wasn’t for some old Sesame Street DVDs and a VHS collection of Reading Rainbow tapes, I probably never would have learned how to read. Days Dave came in with his blue canvas bag full of books, CDs, and DVDs from the library were the highlight of my sad little life.
Dave wasn’t exactly friendly, and he never moved to stop Uncle Roark’s brutality, so I knew he wasn’t a good person. But the small kindness he gave me in those blue bags, in the Netflix profile he “accidentally” left open for me after vicious sessions under Uncle Roark’s knife…was enough to help me hold on to my humanity. It gave me a window, however small, into the world. Gave me hope.
I learned a lot in the two years I’d been on my own, though. I’ve always been a curious kitten, and I’m excited to learn as much as possible every day. Thanks to my time in the basement, I’d never take learning new things for granted.Dave may have fostered my love of learning, but he also smacked me when I annoyed him and pretended not to see Uncle Roark brutalizing a helpless child. On the one hand, I hated him; on the other, I felt an annoying sense of gratitude toward the bastard. It was confusing and overwhelming, so I shoved the thought away and started paying more attention to the town I was touring.
Sagebrush reminded me of Stars Hollow if Stars Hollow was the home of John Wayne and was run by a biker gang instead of cheesy New England townsfolk and the spunky Gillmore girls. There was a grocery store kind of like Doose’s, and instead of Miss Patty’s dance studio, there was a bar called Crow’s Landing. I saw nary a twinkly fairy light or a gazebo, but Sagebrush was relatively clean looking, if sandy. Good enough for me.
Just as we reached the outskirts of town, Bones pulled into a parking lot. We faced a building with what looked like multiple garage doors, and the sign out front said “Rusty’s Garage.” Across the street was what appeared to be a run-down hardware store.
“Who’s Rusty?” I asked as I hopped out of Bones’s truck.
“He was a Crow, like me. He was one of the OG Los Cuervos. Died a long time ago, but no one has the heart to remove his name from the sign. It’d be like tampering with his legacy. ”
“So the MC owns it?”
“ Si , and I run it. Come inside, and we can check on Sheila.”
I let out a squeal and clapped my hands. “Every girl deserves to be pampered! I can’t wait to see her. I bet she’s glowing !”
Bones led the way, and I followed him into the garage. Stepping out of the dry heat of the Nevada summer day and into the blissfully frosty air of the office had me sighing in delight. Looking around, I saw pictures of antique cars and motorcycles lining the walls. Bones walked over to say hello to a woman I had never seen before who was seated at a desk by the far wall. I walked over to a little waiting area for customers, zeroing in on an old black-and-white photograph on the wall.
Four young men in cuffed jeans and leather jackets, cigarettes dangling from their lips, were grouped in front of their motorcycles. The one on the far left was looking at the guy to his left, squinting a smile like the picture was taken on a sunny day. The man beside him had his arm around the guy to his left, who looked like he might have been talking when the picture was taken. Maybe he was telling a joke? The last guy, on the far right, had his arms crossed and was looking straight at the camera. He wasn’t smiling, but the ease at which he stood with the others and the proximity of everyone gave me the impression they were all buddies. At the bottom of the picture, written in scrawling longhand, were the words “Los Cuervos MC 1966.”
“The one on the far right is Priest’s grandpa, Gavin. Rusty was the guy on the far left.” Bones’s voice snapped me back to the present. “Come, chica loca.” He gestured to the woman who sat at the desk, observing me with wary hazel eyes. She looked to be in her mid-sixties, but I was a notoriously bad judge of age, so I could be ten years off in either direction. Her soft white hair was pulled back into a low bun on the nape of her neck. Her coral lipstick and a cardigan sweater gave her the classic look of an elderly librarian.
“Rose,” Bones said, “I just brought Girl here to check on her van. Girl, this is Rose. She’s Knuckles’s ole lady. He’s been out of town, but I’m sure you’ll meet him soon.”
Rose murmured a polite “hello,” and I smiled and waved. A gentle nudge on the small of my back from Bones had me turn to the door leading to the garage bays.
Two of the three bays were unoccupied, and in the last bay was Sheila. She looked so shiny. Even her hubcaps gleamed! I threw myself onto her hood to give her a hug.Delightedly, I noticed that Bones hadn’t fixed the small dent on Sheila’s hood. The imperfection remained, looking like a dimple and expressing my van’s character. I was so glad Bones had seen it for what it was instead of thinking it was just a flaw to fix.
“Sheila! I’ve missed you so much! You look absolutely radiant! Has Bones taken good care of you? He better have been a gentleman, or I’ll shove a tire iron up his—”
Bones chuckled. “Of course I have. Sheila and I are good friends now.”
I gasped and looked Sheila over. “You saucy minx, I see you! Bones’s truck better watch out for you! Once you go van, you don’t go back. Just saying.”
Bones winked at me. Sheila’s right. I think I like this guy too.
I noticed a blue plastic tarp blocking the view of Sheila’s driver’s side. “What’s the tarp for?” I went to peek beneath it when Bones’s hand reached out to stop me.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Bones admonished. “That’s a surprise. I wanted you to see for yourself that Sheila is happy here and why it’s taking so long. We’re giving Sheila…” He hesitated, trying to think of the right words to explain his master plan. “A makeover. Just some paint on the driver’s side and some upgrades on the interior. It’ll take a few more weeks for her to be ready, but it’ll be worth the wait.” I jumped onto Bones, who caught me with a bewildered expression as my arms wrapped around his torso in a hug.
“Thank you so much! You don’t know how much this means to us,” I gushed. “No one has ever taken the time to make Sheila feel special. I’m glad you see it, that you see her .” Bones patted my shoulder awkwardly as I tried to wrestle my pesky feelings back into submission.
In an effort to take the spotlight off my awkwardness, I changed the subject. “Have you always been in the van bedazzling business?”
Bones snorted back a laugh. “This will be my first bedazzling, chica loca. I started as a mechanic here at Rusty’s back in high school and worked my way up in the club and the garage until I made it to where I am today.”
“Oh wow, that’s awesome.”
“My real passion is in restoration projects and custom artwork. Look around the clubhouse lot sometime, and you may see some of my work.”
I grinned at Bones in response, reveling in the novelty of getting to know the man behind the intimidating biker.
On the ride back to the MC compound, Bones let me roll the windows down so I could feel the wind in my hair as I screamed-sang along with old ’70s rock songs on the radio. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy and free.
Another week went by with little to no drama. Bones left to work at the garage every day and often took Prospect with him. Pyro was finally all healed up from his ass whooping, but I avoided him when I could, and he was never assigned to my babysitting duty. Not that I even needed babysitting. I was an exceptionally well-behaved guest. Since Pyro’s smackdown, I had only punched one guy when he grabbed my ass, and he was a friend of someone in the MC, not a real member. As far as I was concerned, he wasn’t included in Duke’s “no violence” rule.
I went on a daily run to get my cardio back where it should be after my hiatus, and at some point during the day, Lennon and I met up in the gym to continue her training.
Lennon took classes at a local community college to earn her cosmetology license. She practiced hair and makeup at beauty parlors in the area, and I had seen her occasionally giving some of the ole ladies haircuts and dye jobs in the clubhouse kitchen. She definitely had an eye for it, and I was a little jealous at how effortless she made it seem to look drop-dead gorgeous. Uncle Roark always told me I looked like a drowned rat, and when creeps catcalled me, it never made me feel pretty. Some people might like being told they look fuckable or have dick-sucking lips. Call me old-fashioned, but I’d just like someone to tell me I looked pretty.
Lennon had the afternoon off today, so we practiced in the gym. After warming up on the treadmill and a little light stretching, Lennon headed over to the new heavy punching bag someone had installed shortly after our badass bitch training sessions began. She started with a jab/cross/hook combo and eventually transitioned into a jab/cross/uppercut combo. Her form was better than before and improving every day; I was so proud of how hard she was working. It wouldn’t be long before we could galivant around as a femme fatale vigilante crime-fighting duo! After a water break, we did some lower body work, giving us a chance for girl talk.
“Lennon?” I asked as I puffed out a breath and did another weighted squat.
“Yeah?” She grunted, looking up at me through strands of sweaty hair as she did sets of mountain climbers.
“I’m gonna ask you a question, and I need you to be honest with me.”
Lennon collapsed on the mat, out of breath. “Of course,” she panted. “What is it?”
“I need to know….for when we start our merry band of lady mischief-makers…what is your favorite weapon?” I looked down, suddenly feeling very shy. I’d never tried girl talk before, and I was so worried I wasn’t doing it right. I snuck a peek at Lennon’s face just in time to see her expression shift from wary to amused.
“Girl”—she chortled—“here I was preparing myself for you to ask me who in the MC was a good lay. Thank God you just want to know my preferred method of injuring others.” She was full-on giggling at me now, and I felt kind of grumpy.
“Well, I just didn’t want us to look silly! I figured it was kind of like when two girls wear the same dress to a party. Our girl band has to have unique and individual members, which means signature weapons.”
“Okay, Crazy Spice, don’t get mad. I’m just glad you’re not panting after all the guys. Too many of them are like family. I don’t want to be asked about their peens.” Lennon shuddered. “The club girls are bad enough with their skankiness. To answer your question…a gun, I guess? My dad taught me the basics of shooting and cleaning a handgun. It’s the only weapon I’ve ever used, so it wins by default.”
“Guns are useful for sure. They’re the missionary sex of weaponry, though. They’ll get the job done, but they’re not the most fun or exciting option. If I had to pick a favorite… it’d have to be blades.”
Lennon wrinkled her cute little button nose. “Aren’t blades just as basic as guns? If guns are like missionary sex, blades have to be like pumpkin spice lattes.”
I scoffed, mildly offended. “No way. Knives can’t run out of ammo or get jammed. You can throw them, stab, slice, cut things like rope and zip ties when you’re being restrained…” I sighed. “They’re just so versatile! I can’t tell you how many times a blade has saved my life. Not just in a fight either! One time, I used a knife to pry open the window in a park bathroom so I could escape a horde of angry geese. I shudder to think of what would have happened if those cobra chickens had gotten their evil beaks on me.”
Lennon looked intrigued. “Why were geese chasing you?”
“Oh, we disagreed on who would get the popcorn someone had left on the park bench. Victory was salty and slightly stale that day, but I loved it. Anywho, once we cover some self-defense basics, I’d like to start on weapon training. If Daddy Crow doesn’t mind, that is.” I made a mental note to ask Duke what his policy was on weapons for guests.
“Ew,” Lennon muttered, nose wrinkled in distaste. “Never say Daddy Crow again. Barf .”
We rose from the mats and faced each other, her gagging and me laughing at her expression. “Noted. Okay, the last thing we’re going to work on today is ways to get away from an attacker so you can escape.”
Lennon tightened the tie holding her hair into a high ponytail. “I thought I was getting ass-kicking lessons, not run-away lessons.”
“Everyone wants to be badass like Wonder Woman,” I explained. “There are so many times when escaping with your life is the best possible outcome in a scenario, though. You’ll be a tough chick, but you have to be alive to fight another day, yeah?” I held my arms out. “Take me for example. Can I destroy my enemies? Sure can. Have there been times when escape was my only option? Abso-fuckin’-lutely. Have I failed to escape and suffered the consequences?” I shuddered. “Definitely. I don’t want that to happen to you.”
Lennon was so nice and feisty and kind; I didn’t want her to shatter like I had done so many times before when escape wasn’t possible. I could put my broken pieces back together again, but once you’d been broken, those pieces never quite lined back up correctly. The chips and gaps and jagged edges where the pieces didn’t quite fit back together? Well, those were the places where the darkness and hurt leaked out. My throat tightened up with emotion.
“Come on. You can punch now, and I absolutely can’t wait to see you in your first fistfight, but I need to know you can get away if someone grabs you.”
Lennon nodded at me, and we began. “Let’s say some jerkoff grabs you from behind like this.” I stood behind Lennon, wrapping my arms around hers and clutching her close to me, like a bear hug. “What should you do to get away?”
Lennon scoffed. “Easy.” She mimed stomping on my foot as she threw her head back, trying to hit my nose.
“Basic, but a good start. If someone grabs you, don’t worry about anything other than getting away. Go absolutely feral if you have to. Bite, scream, scratch, go bug nuts. See how I have your arms pinned down? Rotate your wrist and go for the guy’s balls. You may not get a good handful, but it might give him enough pause for you to get free. Or you can drop all your weight, throwing his center of gravity off enough to get his grip to falter.”
I released Lennon, who turned to face me. I grabbed her wrist, and we practiced her getting out of that hold. Going over pressure points, blocks, holds, and my own hard-won experiences in getting grabby hands off me made the time fly by. The next thing we knew, Lennon and I were sweaty, exhausted, and had a few looky-loos doling out tips and advice. We tried to ignore the guys working out—Bones and Priest at the free weights and Cricket on the treadmill .
“The first rule of not dying is never let someone take you from your location. If someone tells you they won’t hurt you with their gun to your head if you cooperate and go with them…it’s most likely a lie. If they had good intentions toward you, they wouldn’t be threatening you in the first place. They want to take you somewhere no one can hear your screams. You’d be better off letting them shoot you in the head then and there and being done with it. They want you to be cooperative and complicit in your own abduction. Understand?”
Lennon nodded at me, her eyes round and large on her face.
“Second rule, don’t let them get you on the floor. Once you’re on the floor, you’re more vulnerable and at a disadvantage. It’s harder to get back up once you’re down. Not impossible, but harder.” I sighed. “Okay. One more thing, then we’re done. Lie down.” Lennon mopped some sweat off her forehead with the bottom of her tank, giving the room a peek at her belly. Lying on the floor, she looked up at me, waiting to see what I’d do. This was going to be a sensitive one, and I prayed to Bob that Lennon would be okay with it.
I kneeled over Lennon, settling my body between her thighs and letting the weight of my body pin her to the floor. Slowly, keeping eye contact with her, I encircled her wrists with my hands and pinned them to the floor on either side of her head. She nodded at me to show she was okay and understood what I was doing.
“Let’s say rules number one and two have gone right out the window. Some bad shit went down, and now you’re pinned to the floor with some asshole trying to take what isn’t his. What do you do?”
Lennon lifted her hips in response in an attempt to buck me off, but she couldn’t. She pulled on her wrists, squirmed, and threw her head forward in an attempt to headbutt me. None of her efforts got her free of my hold. By now, Lennon was breathing heavily, her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and she jerked as if struck when a harsh voice ripped through the now silent gym.
“ Enough, Girl !”
Lennon and I both looked over to a livid Bones, who was being held back by Priest and Cricket. All three men had stopped what they were doing and were watching this object lesson play out on the floor.
“Is it enough, Lennon? Say the word, and I’ll stop. I don’t want you to ever be in this situation for real, but I do want you to know you’re strong and capable enough to handle it, if it does come.”
Lennon clenched and unclenched her fists. “Show me.” So I did.
Lennon and I swapped places, me prone on the mats, her above me holding me down. I closed my eyes, breathing through the old sense of panic and helplessness that tried to burst through my cracks and out of my chest.
“Rule three of not dying? Pockets. You should never leave home unarmed; I always have a blade on me. Always. Stash one in your boot, jeans pocket, hoodie pocket, whatever. Don’t rely on a purse because those are easy to lose. Fashion isn’t as important as survival, so always go for the option with pockets. For our demonstration, let’s say I don’t have pockets. No weapons. I’m on the floor and vulnerable.”
I swallowed down the bile that was doing its best to creep up my throat. “I’ve tried to move my arms, and I can’t. They’re being held down. I’ve bucked my hips and writhed to get him off me, and I can’t.” I moved, trying to dislodge Lennon, showing her my struggle. “He tells me to keep squirming, and he likes it when I fight. He fumbles with his zipper while his buddies hold my arms down. They’re talking about the disgusting things they want to do to me like I’m not even there. But I am! I’m a person, and I’m there, and I’m stuck. I manage to knee him when he pulls back to rip my shorts off, which earns me a slap to the face. What should I do?” Lennon looked down at me, shock and pity written all over her face. I heard the bang of the door against the wall.
I guess our audience wasn’t enjoying the show anymore. Bummer.
“Lennon, what do I do? Screaming, fighting, crying, pleading…none of it worked, and I’m stuck. No one is going to help me. I am unarmed, unable to run, so what do I do? How do I win?”
Lennon shook her head. “I…I don’t know…”
“I let go. I stop moving, stop struggling. I let them think I’ve given up. He’s panting on top of me, his disgusting breath in my face, thinking he’s broken me. In a way, he has. I know the hard truth. Sometimes, no matter how careful you are, no matter how cautious or prepared... sometimes there is no escape. There’s no stopping the bad thing. I don’t deserve it. I didn’t do anything to make it happen. I wasn’t asking for it, but I know there’s no escape for me now. He thinks I’ve given in and accepted my rape, but that’s not what I’ve realized is inevitable. I accepted that if there is no escape and I’m probably going to die…or wish that I had, then I’m taking him down with me.”
Lennon shifted a bit on top of me, but I continued in the hope that she’d learn from my experiences. “He leans down over me to line himself up, and that’s when I strike. I lunge at his neck and bite, taking as big of a mouthful as I can. I bite him as savagely as I can. He starts screaming, and his friends release my hands, trying to pull me off him and save their shitty excuse of a pal. Now I’m the one who won’t let go, who won’t listen to pleas to stop. I wrap my legs around his waist and clutch at him like a koala as my teeth sink even deeper and blood rushes into my mouth and all down my chest. I clench as hard as I can before ripping my face away and taking as much flesh from him as I can. He looks so shocked, so surprised, that I took from him instead of him taking from me. His expression makes me laugh. It’s so stupid , as he bleeds out. I spit a chunk of him onto the floor, not wanting a single bit of him inside me. I can tell his friends want to kill me, but they can’t. I can be hurt, tortured, battered, and bruised, but only one man is allowed to kill me, and he’s not present. They drag their friend out to get him help, leaving me alone in my cell again.”
Jerking her hands off of me, Lennon scrambled off me so I could sit up. “That actually happened to you? Oh my God, I’m so sorry . I shouldn’t have asked you to train me if it was gonna bring up bad memories for you…”
“No.” I shook my head vehemently. “No, Lennon, I’m okay. I didn’t share that with you to make you sad. I told you so you’d see I’m still here. I survived, and if I can help someone else survive something like this, I want to. I need to. That night…let’s just say I’ve survived much worse. They thought they could scare me, but in the end, they were the scared ones. They learned that I wasn’t afraid of dying and that I’d gladly self-destruct if it meant taking them with me. So, Lennon, if you’re ever in a similar situation…if you’re ever trapped with no options, what do you do? ”
Something dark flittered through her eyes, and her mouth became pinched as she studied me. She raised her chin a bit and said, “Whatever I have to.”
“Exactly.”
Done for the day and sensing I needed some space, Lennon left. I stayed on the mat for a few more minutes, breathing in the solitude and reminding myself that I wasn’t in the basement anymore. Taking a deep breath in through my nose, I rose from the mats and walked over to one of the full-length mirrors on the wall. Standing there, faced with my reflection and the scars I'd learned I’d never be able to erase, I exhaled and let the memories wash over me. All of the nightmares I kept locked in the crawlspace of my mind slithered and slunk and invaded my reality.
I felt them on my skin…all of it haunted me. My ghosts. When I let them out, the memories tainted what I saw in the mirror. I didn’t want that to be me. I didn’t want to see them, him , anymore. I wanted to see me, my face—who I was, but I couldn’t because my ghosts twisted and blurred everything together. I looked lost and faceless now that the ghouls had come out and stolen the rest of what made me, me . I only had a precious little bit of me left, and they couldn’t fucking have it.
My fist flew forward, punching mirror-me and her cannibalistic phantoms right in the face. The glass spiderwebbed out, making my reflection distorted and fractured. I breathed a sigh of relief. Fractured…I could work with. Fractured was me. I looked at my hand, bloody knuckles dripping onto the floor. Eyeing my fist and broken reflection, I knew what it needed to turn my frown upside-down. Using the forefinger on my uninjured hand, I dipped the tip of my finger into my blood and pa inted a smile on the face in the mirror. There. That was better. I turned and walked out of the gym, never noticing the silent presence of Priest in the corner, keeping vigil as I fought my phantoms and won.