Chapter 4 Forsythe #2
Priscilla scoffed, amused by the little dig.
“My, my, Lucille!” The three women laughed together like hyenas.
“Oh you got me! Burn!” She stepped closer to Lucille.
“Let me guess…you think because you’ve changed your style and grown a set of tits that you’re some big shot now?
” Priscilla scoffed with a smile. “Little Lucille, it’s going to take more than that to change who you really are. ” She took a sip of her fruity drink.
I noticed Lucille's hand squeezed into fist. “And who am I, Priscilla?”
The woman grinned, biting the tip of her straw.
“A reject. Hell, your own momma didn’t want you.
” Lucille’s arm began to tremble, and I could tell she was holding back all sorts of emotions.
“You know, I really dodged a bullet dumping Boone’s ass when I did.
” Priscilla turned and spoke to her little goons.
“I mean, could you imagine being stuck with this as a sister-in-law? What a joke!” The woman cackled and laughed like teen bullies.
“It’s a shame, really.” Priscilla faced Lucille.
“Boone had such potential…oh, but he spent all his time training and look where it got him. Stuck in a hospital bed, useless.” Priscilla’s grin grew into a sinister smile.
“Just like his sister.” Lucille’s head fell in defeat, and my muscles tightened in a weird response.
I don’t know who the hell these women are, but you don’t deserve this.
“That’s enough.” Priscilla gasped softly, lifting her eyes to meet mine. “I think you ladies oughta move on.”
The blue-eyed woman scoffed and crossed her arms. “And who is this, Lucille?” She looked between us.
“There’s no way you two are together, I mean, look at him.
” Her deadly blue eyes trailed up and down my body like a snake.
“There’s no way little Lucille here could pull a man like you.
” My entire body tightened and burned with anger.
I was annoyed and fed up with this woman’s pathetic little game.
And I was most pissed at how she had upset Lucille.
I gently placed my hand on Lucille’s bare shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, Priscilla, but we were on our way out. So if you don’t mind—”
Lucille slapped my hand away. “I don’t need your fucking help,” she stated in a low snarl before raising her head.
“I’m so glad I ran into you, Priscilla.” The blue-eyed woman raised a brow in confusion.
“Seeing you again, after all these years, reminded me of exactly why I left.” Lucille snatched the fruity drink from Priscilla’s hand and poured it all over the woman, dumping it directly over her head.
“Lucille!” Priscilla screamed. Everyone in the bar stopped and looked at the cause of the commotion. “Oh you—you—”
Lucille dropped the glass onto the floor and it shattered at Priscilla’s feet.
“What?” She smiled and stepped right into Priscilla’s face.
“Don’t hold back now. Say it. Finish your fucking sentence.
” The woman remained silent. “That’s what I thought.
And you’re wrong, you know? You didn’t dodge a bullet by dumping Boone. He did.”
Priscilla groaned and shook her hands, sending bits of her drink in every direction. Her blue eyes glared at Lucille with such hatred as she spoke through gritted teeth. “You haven’t changed one bit, you—you bitch!”
Lucille smiled at the insult. “Neither have you.” She grabbed her beer and spun around with her head high, tossing her leather jacket over her shoulder. “But at least I can leave this place. I’m not stuck here like you. I got out.”
Lucille’s hazel eyes met mine just as Priscilla opened her mouth.
“You didn’t get out…you ran away.” Lucille’s smile fell, and I watched as a wave of emotions washed over her.
“And why is it you ran, little Lucille?” Absolute terror swirled within her irises, swimming in them like a shark waiting to attack.
“Stop it,” she whispered, holding back tears. “Please.” Her suffering was unbearable to witness.
Priscilla flipped her wet hair over her shoulder. “You ran because no one could stand to look at the reject who got her daddy killed in a fire.”
I’ve had enough of this shit.
“Knock it off.” The three women all stared up at me with wide eyes as Lucille roughly shot past and exited the bar. “I think it’s best you keep that damn mouth of yours shut about things you don’t know,” I growled.
Priscilla rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Everyone knows it was her fault.”
I stepped closer to the blue-eyed woman, fuming with such raw anger.
“You're so concerned with picking fights like a high school kid when instead you should be worrying about yourself.” I flicked a piece of fruit from her hair. “You might want to go clean yourself up, Priscilla. You’re covered in that fancy little drink of yours and smell like a lot lizard. Look like one too.” Her eyes bulged at the insult and together the three women scattered.
Fucking little—wait, Lucille.
I spun around and chased after her.
“Lucille?” I called out as I burst through the bar door and stepped onto the red dirt.
“Lucille?” She didn’t answer. I walked around, scanning the many cars and motorcycles parked out front, listening as the neon sign above flickered and buzzed in the night.
I would’ve given up and walked away had I not heard the commotion coming from the side of the bar.
“Lucille?” I peeked my head around to find her sitting on the dirt, leaning against the brick exterior of the bar with her beer firmly in her grasp, now wearing her jacket. Her eyes lifted to see me as I slowly approached her, and I knew she had been crying.
I always hated seeing you cry.
“What the hell do you want now?” she asked. She rubbed her right leg and pressed against her thigh, wincing faintly.
“Are you okay? Did you get hurt riding—”
“I’m fine,” she snapped. “It’s just an old injury…one that loves to act up at the most inconvenient times.”
Mine does the same thing.
I stopped a few feet away, giving her space. “I’m sorry. She never should have said that.”
Lucille scoffed and took another sip. “She’s not wrong.”
I walked a bit closer and crouched down, removing my hat.
“Yes, she is.” Her eyes watched me closely, the golden hues of her irises fading into a darker brown that reflected such sadness within them.
The same sadness I knew had been weighing her down for damn near ten years. “Your daddy’s death isn’t your fault.”
“Bullshit,” she hissed before taking another sip of her beer.
Her eyes broke free from my gaze and wandered back to the ground in shame.
“Everyone knows it’s my fault he died. I was drunk and making a fool out of myself.
” She paused, looking at the dark beer bottle.
“Not much has changed, has it?” She took another sip, wiping her tears away.
“He was always saving me…” She began to cry.
“He was always trying to make it better. Trying to help me!” Lucille bent her legs and cradled her knees close.
“Fuck. Why, after all this time, does it still hurt?” She clutched her chest as her breathing increased and became heavy.
“It’s been almost ten years, and it still hurts like it happened yesterday! Why?”
Every fiber of my being was aching to soothe her pain, to take it all away. I wanted to grab her close and hold her tight, let her cry into me as I soaked up her pain and left none behind. But I knew she’d just pull away…she always did.
Lucille shot her head up as her fiery hair swayed around her pale face.
“You know why I ran away? Because I knew I was broken!” My heart ached to hear her say the words aloud.
“I knew if I didn’t get some help—any help—I would end up taking everyone else down with me, just like my dad!
He died because of me!” I reached out to her, but I stopped myself, squeezing it into a fist back to my side.
“But even after I left, I still fucked everything up. I spent so many years grieving…hurting, and punishing myself for what I did. I even tried to end my life once.” She raised her arm, feeling along the texture of her skin, and I noticed the scars.
“But nothing worked. Nothing could swallow that pain—that hatred I felt for myself. And I have spent every fucking day wishing it had been me who died in that fire. He deserved to keep living…not me. And no matter how much therapy I get, how many pills I take, or how much I try to heal what’s wrong with me, I will never be okay!
” Her words had become shouted sobs filled with nothing but anguish and pain. A pain I had known myself.
My inhibitions let go and I reached for her arm, gripping her wrist as I stared into her eyes.
She didn’t push me away or break free from my grasp.
Instead, she looked at me with those damn hazel eyes of hers.
“There’s nothing wrong with feeling, Lucille.
Good or bad, everyone has feelings. And grieving, no matter how intense and smothering it may feel, is a normal part of accepting his death.
There’s no rule book on how long you can hurt…
but feeling how you feel isn’t wrong. It sucks, but it’s normal. ”