Six
S he recoiled, almost like I’d struck her, as if I’d do such a thing. I briefly felt guilty, then I went right back to being pissed off at her intrusion into my life.
“Yeah, see, I was stabbed and left for dead, and they took advantage of that situation, by deciding to purge me of my little habit, and now? Now I’m stuck coming here to talk to you, just so that they don’t boot me out of the only real family I’ve ever had.”
Jesus. When I said it out loud it was terrifying. I couldn’t lose the club. At least, I could hang on by my fingertips until I couldn’t hang on any longer. What if I ended up unable to ride? That last night… the one where I couldn’t remember much else after arranging to meet up with that cartel bastard? I remember being in so much pain that I was ready to give in, and never ride again. Even though it’d mean the end for me.
“Ice…”
“Yeah? Got some pearls of wisdom for me, Doc? Any magical solutions that’ll make this shit all go away? I’m all fucking ears.”
She sighed, pouring a second glass of water, and sipping it while she stayed quiet for a moment.
“Ice,” she set the glass back down before continuing, “Look. I understand that-”
“You don’t understand a fucking thing! That’s the problem. What, I’m supposed to listen to you, and take advice from little miss fucking perfect? Not a hair out of place, dressed in these fucking office clothes, and up on your fucking pedestal of perfection… how the hell are you supposed to fix me, when you don’t even know what it feels like to be broken?”
I’d lurched out of my chair, and towered over her, as my tirade took over, filling me with more anger than I’d let myself feel so far.
“Ice, please sit down.” Her voice was quiet, slightly shaky even.
I backed up, but I didn’t sit. There was fire running through my veins, and I couldn’t just sit down, feeling like that.
“This is bullshit. It’s a waste of fucking time. You . You are a waste of my fucking time. I should just get some coke, and make all of this pain go away. That’s all I wanted. To kill the fucking pain.”
A frown creased her forehead, making her look even more disapproving of me, while somehow not reacting to my blatantly cruel insult.
“Pain? Let’s talk about that, Ice. Is that the reason that you fell into this pattern of abusing drugs?”
“Fuck’s sake. That’s how this works, is it? Pick up on one little thing, and pretend that it’s the key to everything?”
She stood up too, but her hands were up in front of her, like she wanted to deflect my anger.
“Ice, it’s clearly not a little thing. I think it IS the key to what’s happening with you. Why won’t you talk to me about that?”
I stepped closer, jabbing a finger in her face.
“Because it’s none of your fucking business. Stay out of my shit.”
I crossed the room, and wrenched the door open, storming back outside, past the questioning look on Torch’s face, and out to wait by the van. No, fuck that. I’m walking home.
“Come on, man. What happened?”
I turned, shoving him away from me.
“Get the fuck away from me. You’re all so fucking perfect, and able to cope with everything, aren’t you? All so fucking accomplished, and living without a care in the damn world. Why don’t you go fuck yourself, yeah? Go and… God, just get away from me.”
I shoved at him again, and he cursed, moving quickly to grab my arm and twist it behind my back.
“Stop being an asshole, Ice. We’re trying to help you. You try shoving me again though, and I’m gonna remind you how I got my road name, we clear?”
Fucking hell . I tried to fight the shudder I felt at his words.
“Fine. Let me go. I’ll stop.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m taking you back to the van. So you have two options. You can walk with me like a fucking man, or I’ll carry you like the little bitch you’re being.”
Lissa
I sat there for maybe ten minutes, absorbing every word he’d spat at me with anger, every nerve he’d touched, every ounce of pain he’d revealed. My heart was still racing, and it took a whole glass of water for me to regain my composure. For my hands to tremble a little less.
Ice was such an angry, troubled man, and even at his angriest, something inside me wanted to comfort him, to nurture and protect him. I couldn’t imagine he’d ever see me as anything other than the bitch who sat and told him she understood his issues. Understood . Why the hell did I say it? I understand … that’s not how I was trained.
It’s like a red flag to a bull. Of course I don’t understand. Not in the same way. I’ve been witness to what he’s going through, time and time again, but I’ve never been an addict myself. Maybe my introduction to addiction earlier in life had made me even more certain that I’d never fall down that hole, and go through the same hell.
“Lissa? Why are you still here? I saw him leave.” I took a breath, nodding at Cammy, our receptionist. “Are you okay?”
She’d come to check on me. It was so clear. Whenever we had someone leave in that kind of a temper, she’d always come to make sure we were okay.
I nodded at her. “I’m fine. He was agitated, but it wasn’t directed at me.” Not all of it, anyway.
“It doesn’t matter where it was aimed. It doesn’t leave you unscathed.” She was right about that. I swallowed hard, pushing up from my chair.
“I’m okay, but thanks, Cammy. I… I’m going to head off home now that I’m done. You okay with this?”
She waved her hand at me, already gathering up the glasses and jug.
“Have a good weekend. Rest up. Forget all of these assholes.”
“They’re not assholes, Cammy. Well… not all of them. They’re suffering. Nobody is their best self while they’re in pain.”
“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that. They use you as a punching bag, and you know it.”
I left before I broke. The longer I let Ice’s words crash back down on me, the closer I came to losing it. I was halfway down the road when the tears started, and I was forced to pull over at the side of the road, until I could calm down enough to keep driving.
The irony of what I do is that I have nobody to talk to on days when the job hits me like this. I have to go home, and deal with it alone. Not just because I can’t talk about what others confide in me, but because the only people I could turn to are my mother and stepfather, and they both think the job is too much for me, so I couldn’t prove them right.
At home, I changed into fleecy trousers and a vest, and curled up on my sofa with a mug of hot chocolate, and a book. I needed to unwind. Relax. I needed to feel anything other than the way he’d made me feel. Hurt. Defensive. Guilty. Horny. What a confusing mess of emotions he’d left me with.
And he hadn’t done anything to make me feel that he’d even want to be near me in any way, especially willingly. So why was I so attracted to him? Because I couldn’t have him? Because he’d reject me? Because I always let myself get hurt?
When tears blinded me too much to see the words on the page, I set the book back down, and cradled my drink, giving in and letting everything crash down onto me, so that maybe, just maybe, I could feel better after.
When I fell asleep, I had recurring dreams about a man with cold grey eyes, and a tortured soul. It woke me up again, and left me restless and wide awake.