Chapter Ten—Rule
She’s dead.
Is she dead?
Did you succeed?
She’s alive.
She’s dead.
Rebel hates you.
Mom hates you.
She’s dead.
“No!” Rule struggled to free his hands, so he could clap them over his ears to drown out the voices echoing in his head. “STOP! STOP! STOP!”
Tears streaking his face, he thrashed on the bed, vaguely aware his wrists and ankles were bound. His throat ached and his head pounded.
“Mom!” he screamed. “Help me! Mom! Come back! I’m sorry! I love you!”
Mom didn’t answer. He couldn’t move to find her. She loved him. She’d help him.
She’s dead.
“NO! MOM!” Rule sobbed. “Don’t leave me. I love you. Mom!”
She’s dead.
He screamed. Above him, shadows bounced on the ceiling, reaching toward him. He tried to move, tried to evade them, tried to remember a prayer. Dripping blood swirled in a swimming pool, sunlight gleaming in the clear water. Except for the threads of red.
Blonde hair twisted through the blood. A nude body floated.
A splash disintegrated the image before the nude body dropped from the ceiling and broke the water. The body flipped, revealing a gray and lifeless Rebel.
Rule screamed again. “Rebel! Sister!”
She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.
“Reb!” Rule sobbed. “I love you! Reb! I need you. I need Mom. Help me!”
An overhead light flipped on, momentarily blinding him. Tears, snot, and spittle wet his face.
“Mom?” he asked, his shoulders shaking with the force of his tears.
A cool cloth brushed over his overheated forehead. “Not your mother. Only me.”
Rule blinked, disoriented. His vision was clearing, but the light still hurt his eyes. “F-Father Wilkins?”
“One and the same,” the priest said, wiping his cheeks.
“Where’s Mom? Please, I want my mom.”
“She will come. Soon, but not yet.”
“MOM!” he screamed. “HELP ME!”
Father Wilkins grasped one of Rule’s hands and squeezed gently. “It’s okay, Rule.” His voice sounded thick and wet. “We’re getting you help, son.”
“Where’s my mom? I want my mom. I want my mom. I want my mom,” he chanted, the only words in his head.
She’s dead.
“No! She can’t be dead.”
Father Wilkins released his hand. “She isn’t dead, Rule. Neither Rebel nor your mother.”
Footsteps invaded the silence and terror seized him. He shrieked, thrashed, and bucked, afraid the voices were embodied to take him away.
“It’s me, Rule. Harley’s mom. Your Aunt Bailey.” She laid a comforting hand on him, the scent of vanilla soothing him. “It’s me, baby. You’re okay. You’re okay,” she crooned.
“I’m not, Aunt Bailey!”
Horrific laughter echoed in his head, and he screamed again. “Help me!”
“Give me a minute,” Aunt Bailey said, and her footsteps rushed away.
A sob reached him. “We…I failed you, Rule,” Father Wilkins said tearfully. “I failed your grandfather.”
Rule didn’t understand. He couldn’t remember his grandfather or the words to form the proper question.
Aunt Bailey’s footsteps resounded again accompanied by another pair.
“Oh, baby.”
Sweat popped off Rule’s clammy skin. He thought he recognized the voice because he’d heard it constantly over the last…however long Mom and Dad left him.
Her soft voice came again. “Look what you’ve done to yourself.” It was definitely Aunt Zoann, and she sounded on the verge of tears too.
Rule didn’t understand why.
“I left him long enough to find clothes for him,” Father Wilkins explained in a choked voice. “When I returned, he’d scratched himself to bits and tore out chunks of hair.”
Aunt Zoann leaned over and kissed Rule’s forehead. “I’m sorry, love,” she said softly. “It took days longer than expected,” she added in disgust, “but we’ve found a place for you.”
“I want my mom, Aunt Zoann. Please.”
“Maybe, dial Mrs. Caldwell’s number?” Father Wilkins suggested. “Hearing her might give Rule some peace.”
A moment later, the sound of a call trying to connect echoed in the room.
“Talk to her first, Father Wilkins,” Aunt Bailey suggested.
“Hello,” Mom said.
“MOM!” Rule screamed before anyone else spoke. “Help me! Mom, I love you. Help me!”
Mom didn’t speak. The silence stretched for so long Rule thought they’d played a joke on him. He shrieked again.
“Rule, son, I love you.” Mom’s exhausted voice rose above his commotion. She sniffled. “Do you hear me? I love you.”
“Come and get me, Mom. Please! I want Reb.”
“She c-can’t talk right now, Rule.” Mom’s voice trembled. “But she loves you as much as me. We want you happy and whole and home. And you will be as soon as you’re better.”
“Why can’t I come home now?” Rule cried. “I want to be home! I want you and Reb! I want Dad and CJ! I want Diesel and Uncle Mort.”
Mom sniffled again. “Listen to me, my love. We’re getting you help.
We’re not deserting you. We’re going to try a facility only several hours away.
If that doesn’t work, then we’ll transfer you to one in California.
Aunt Bailey will oversee your care team.
You will have a personal caregiver. A lady Father Wilkins recommended by the name of Freya.
I will visit you as soon as I’m able and it’s allowed. ”
“Why not now?”
“We’re—”
“They had some scrapes,” Aunt Bailey said gently. “They aren’t able to come.”
Rule blinked. “They had an accident?”
“We did, son,” Mom said softly. “We’ll tell you about soon.”
Pray. They need prayers. Pray.
“Where’s my bible?”
“It’s with your things, honey,” Aunt Zoann said.
Jingling spurs accompanied heavy bootfalls. Once, that sound comforted Rule. He’d know Dad had gotten safely home and he’d stop worrying that he’d never see him again. He’d tell Dad about Ryan’s bullying because Rule liked to draw and Dad always loved the pictures.
“DAD!” he screamed, thrashing again. “DAD, I’m here! DAD, come and get me. I want Mom and Rebel. DAD! Where’s CJ and Diesel?”
Silence. No footsteps, broken sobs, or voices.
Rule shook his head so fiercely, it made him dizzy. “DAD!”
Hands gripped his shoulders. “I’m here, boy,” Dad said.
Suddenly, Rule’s wrists were free, and Dad enveloped him in a hug.
“I’m here, son.”
Rule wrapped his arms around his father, breathing in the scent of leather and smoke, familiar smells that offered Rule a measure of peace. “I want Mom,” he sobbed.
“She ain’t able to come.” Dad released him. Somehow, Rule focused enough to really see his father. He looked so haggard. “She will. Soon.”
“I want to go home.”
Dad bowed his head. “Not now.”
Rule fell back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Rebel’s dead body appeared in his mind’s eye again and he screamed.
She’s dead.
You killed her.
She’s dead.
She’s dead.
“No!”
Memories seeped into his brain. Faces juxtaposed. Mom. Rebel. Rebel. Mom. One on top of the other. A rock and then an ice pick appeared in his hand. He held one of his hands up; it was coated with blood. Another image appeared. He was sitting on a pool step, holding his sister under the water.
“Rebel!”
“Rule—” Mom’s voice bounced through his head.
“I killed her!”
“No, boy. She’s alive,” Dad said.
“Your daddy’s right,” Mom said. “She’s alive, Rule.”
“I want Rebel,” he cried.
“She’s here, son. You have her. Reb and me are just two lazy bones today.” Mom’s laugh sounded forced. “We’re too tired to get up.”
Wildness crept into him and he tried to kick, but his ankles were still restrained, so he screamed at the top of his lungs.
Dad hugged him. “It’s okay, son. It’s okay. I got you.”
When CJ walked into the room and halted at the edge of Rule’s twin bed, Dad released him and stepped back.
“I want to go home, C.” Rule wailed worse than Gunner did when he was in a full tantrum. “Please. I want Mom.”
CJ sat on the edge of Rule’s bed and drew him into his arms, much like Dad. “It’s okay, Rule,” he promised.
“Christopher?” Mom called.
To Rule, her tone had changed from weak and tired to a sultry purr. He stiffened.
Slut.
Jezebel.
Whore.
Die! Die! Die!
“Slut!” he screamed, jerking away from CJ.
“Whore! I want you to die!” Memories of Mom sucking Dad’s cock rose in his head.
“Miserable fucking jezebels.” He swung; someone grunted.
He swung again and laughed through his tears.
“Cocksucking gutter slatterns. Good for nothing but garbage piles and death. Fuck Rebel and fuck you. I hate you two trashy cunts! Die! Die! Die!”
“Rule!” The call traveled to him like an echo in a tunnel. He couldn’t distinguish between his father and brother’s voices.
“Rule, stop! Please,” CJ begged, tears in his tone.
Rule stilled, blinked. Sniffles punctuated the air.
“It’s okay, boy,” Dad said quietly. “It’s okay. We got you.”
“Dad?” Rule croaked, squinting so he could see better. They’d stolen his sight. “Dad, help me. Dad?”
“Yeah, boy. Me and CJ here. Just us. The others left us alone.”
“CJ,” Rule called, and burst into tears. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
The bed creaked, and Rule shrank back, afraid the voices, black globs when they came to life, were there to harm him.
“It’s okay, Rule,” CJ swore, his fingers brushing against Rule’s skin.
They were gentle, not like the hands that had been trying to steal him away and drag him to hell. He forced himself to focus, forced his attention from the ceiling, unable to remember why he’d fixated on that spot.
CJ sat next to him, tears streaking his cheeks. Rule didn’t see hatred or disgust on his brother’s face. Just regret and concern.
“I’m sorry, CJ,” Rule sobbed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“This isn’t about us.” CJ’s voice broke. “It’s about you.”
“I love you, CJ. Don’t hate me. Don’t stop loving me. I love you, Dad.”
Dad bent and slid his fingers through Rule’s hair. His green eyes, so like CJ’s, were watery. “We love you, son. We just want you to get better.”
“Is Reb dead?” he whispered, his mind spinning and looping, unable to remain focused on one thing. “She’s dead, isn’t she? That’s why she isn’t here. That’s why I can’t talk to her. I want Rebel.”
CJ leaned over and pulled Rule into his arms. He too smelled of smoke and leather. “Reb’s fine, brother,” he whispered, referring to him as Rebel did when she still liked him. “She’s sick, but she’s getting better. As soon as she does, she’ll call you.”
Rule held onto CJ, not wanting to let him go. “Let me come home, C. Please, talk to Dad.” He laughed hysterically. “Mom said she wanted to get me help and I told that cunt no.”
CJ tightened his hold on Rule. “Mom loves you. She isn’t a cunt. She’s an amazing woman who saved us all.”
“No!”
“No matter what you said, she shouldn’t have listened, boy.” Dad sounded a little angry. “You a kid. She should’ve used better judgment.”
“Mom was recovering from a fucking traumatic birth, Dad,” CJ snapped. “You could’ve helped Rule, too.”
“Megan told me to wait,” Dad snarled.
“Since when do you listen to her?” CJ demanded.
“I fucking resent that. I always listen to your ma.”
“In your fucking dreams,” CJ clapped back.
Rule laughed again. “You hate her, too,” he preened. “Like me. She’s a miserable slut.”
Sighing, CJ released Rule, then bent and kissed his cheek.
He straightened. “I can’t stay…I’m sorry, Rule.
I’m sorry I wasn’t a better brother and I love you.
But I love Mom, and I can’t stay while you…
” A tear slid down his cheek and splashed onto Rule’s forehead.
“Never mind. I love you. Get better. I-I still need the updated logo for whenever I take over the club. Remember, you were going to draw it for me? You were going to do our tattoos? Remember?”
Rule shook his head, worn out. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been anything but Jesus boy and a joke. He swiped his tears. “You…you liked my art, C.?”
“I loved it, so did Mo…er, Dad. We’re very proud of your talent.”
“Ryan didn’t like it.”
“Ryan can fuck himself,” CJ said flatly.
Glee surged into Rule. “I’m killing him next,” he gloated.
CJ kissed his cheek again, but Rule grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t leave me. Please. I want to come home. I’m hungry. Mom and Rebel cook so good.”
“How about I leave Dad with you while I drive to a fast-food place for burgers and fries?”
“And a milkshake?” Rule asked hopefully.
“Definitely,” CJ promised.
“Will you and Dad eat with me?”
“Yeah, boy,” Dad said gruffly. “But then—”
“Christopher, the ambulance is outside,” Aunt Zoann interrupted around tears. “You need to sign the necessary papers.”
“I’m gonna be right back, son,” Dad said. “None of us leaving until we eat together. Hear me?”
“Don’t send me away, Dad,” Rule begged around tears. “Please. I’m sorry.”
“Goddamn, this shit so fuckin’ hard,” Dad said, and walked out.
“How about we watch videos until Dad comes back and then I’ll get our food?” CJ suggested.
“Can you read the bible to me?”
“Is that what you want, brother?”
Rule nodded.
“Then that’s what I’ll do.”