15. Lily
15
LILY
“ W here is he?” I ask no one in particular as we wait inside the clubhouse. I pace back and forth, my attention flitting from the front doors to the locked chapel and back again. “We should go get him ourselves. Or you can stop holding me captive and let me deal with my mess alone.”
“Don’t start again, Cherub,” Toker tells me with a huff. “I’ll give you a fuckin’ noogie if you do.”
“Oh, screw off, Bendy-dick,” I retort with the nickname Wyatt gave him when he was a toddler. Stomping over to him, I jab my fingernail against his chest. “This isn’t the time for jokes.”
“Not jokin’,” he mutters. Grabbing hold of my finger, he waggles it. “You poke me again and I’ll up it to a wet willy.”
The snort-laugh that leaves me is involuntary. “Jesus Chr?—”
Whatever I was about to say is lost as a sob erupts from my mouth instead. My cousin, giant butthead that he can sometimes be, takes hold of my wrist and yanks me forward. I stumble into him, my forehead bumping his sternum before he wraps his arms around me.
“I hate crying.”
He laughs. It’s a tinny sound devoid of humour. “I dunno if I believe that since you’re so damn good at it.”
“Shut up,” I mumble.
Toker squeezes me tighter.
Together, silently, we worry about the safety of the man we both adore.
It’s been four hours since the phone call.
Four hours since I agreed to exchange myself for Fret.
And three and a half hours since my dad told me that the Maddison’s are going to retrieve my brother for us. In that time, the sun has set, the temperature has dropped, and the moon has risen. The bar is full of worried women and a couple guards while most of the brothers are hidden away in the chapel having an impromptu church session.
An hour the Maddisons said.
Yet, we’re still waiting...
Everyone’s on tenterhooks. Angst is rising. The mood is deteriorating by the second.
It feels wrong to put my trust in the mob, yet I keep praying that they’ll come through. If they can save Fret from the Bishops of Bloodshed, I’ll take back every bad thought I’ve ever had about the criminal organisation that helped pervert the justice I’m owed.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the loud rumble of Harleys permeates the air. The ornate doors to the chapel are slung open, and the brothers left behind sprint into the bar.
My father took Joker with him to meet with the Maddisons, not Zeke or any of the other hierarchy. He chose the shady dickhead tangled up with Honey to have his six as he headed into a situation where the life of his son was at risk.
Honest to God, if the man I call dad gets any fishier, he’ll end up tagged as part of a catch and release program.
“Arm yourself. We don’t trust a-one of these mob fuckers,” Slash tells his enforcers.
They grab their weapon of choice and wait for their next order.
As the new sergeant-at-arms, Slash leads the way out. He deviates, so he has to come past me, flicking my messy braid and pressing a kiss to the top of my head, before he shouts further instructions. His enforcers follow him outside, and the other brothers drop into defensive positions. They point their weapons through the windows, ready to rain down bullets if the Maddisons put a foot wrong. When I turn around to see why Zeke hasn’t emerged from the chapel, he comes up behind me. Slowing long enough to grasp my hand and squeeze it, the look he gives me is filled with earnest apology. In two minds, caught between my anger and my need for comfort, I grip his hand back, then let it go.
He trails Slash outside.
I was left with strict instructions not to leave the bar no matter what, but I don’t care.
My feet have a mind of their own.
Once I’m at the double doors, I quietly push them open a crack so I can peer out.
“Lilianna.” Charlie anxiously cautions me. “ Don’t. ”
“I’m just looking. Promise. I won’t go outside.”
When my father pulls into his designated parking space, I breathe a sigh of relief... until gunshots ring out, and he whirls around with his weapon drawn.
There’s a commotion. Shouts of outrage. Return fire. The squeal of wheels as the black van that had entered the yard with Dad and Joker backs up at speed and comes to an abrupt stop at the end of the driveway. The side door slides open. A roll of carpet is pushed out. Two shots are pumped into it. The vehicle careens off down the road, weaving like crazy as someone in the back slams the door shut.
It happens in an instant, yet it’s almost in slow motion.
The carpet unfurls.
A dark head that I know well comes into view.
Fret.
“He’s been fuckin’ shot in the gut.”
“Fuck! We need an ambulance.”
“I’ll make the call.”
Racing outside, I push through the five men huddled around the prone body of my little brother. There’s dark-red blood pooling beneath him. Zeke’s performing compressions and yelling at Dad to help, but he’s frozen, staring with blank eyes at his unconscious son. When I discover that my fiancé is struggling to manage Fret’s injuries on his own, I elbow my father out of my way, so I can apply pressure to my brother’s stomach wound and help with resuscitation.
Zeke and I work together on Fret until the ambulance arrives. Two male paramedics push us aside, picking up where we leave off. Fret has a weak pulse and is barely breathing. I’ve applied every ounce of first aid training I possess to my bleeding brother, yet it doesn’t feel like I’ve done enough.
“It’s out of your hands now,” Tank, one of the bikers standing guard over me, declares.
With a nod, I wipe my bloody hands down my thighs and watch as they load Fret into the ambulance.
Prayers seem insufficient, although I send up one anyhow.
I can’t lose him.
Not ever.
My brothers are as vital to my existence as oxygen.
After a speedy discussion, it’s decided that Charlie will go in the ambulance to the hospital with a two-bike escort. I’m forced to stay here after it’s deemed too dangerous for me to leave the compound. All around me, everyone discusses the Shamrocks’ next moves, but I’m barely conscious of their words. The only thing I can feel is the damp and sticky warmth of Fret’s life force coating my hands as I scrub them, over and over, down the dark denim that encases my thighs.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Zeke slides one arm under my knees and the other around my back and carries me into the closest bathroom. He kicks down a toilet lid and lowers me onto it, then grabs a bunch of paper towels. After dampening them, he kneels in front of me, pulls my right hand into his, and tries to wipe my fingers clean. “This ain’t gonna work, metukà shelì … I needa get you in the shower.”
In a daze, I scan my body to see what he means.
My jeans are saturated with Fret’s blood. My long-sleeved shirt clings to my chest. I pull my hands free of Zeke’s grip and hold them in front of my eyes. Even the creases in my knuckles are stained red. I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror behind my man’s head and drop my gaze back to my lap when I spy the streak of blood that I’ve inadvertently wiped on my forehead while I was brushing my hair out of my vision.
“Show-er,” I stammer. Zeke captures my chin between his fingers, tilting my face so I meet his eyes. “I need… a shower, pl?—”
With a sharp nod, he cuts me off to say, “I know.”
Zeke sweeps me into a bridal hold and runs through the clubhouse to our room. After he lowers me to my feet, he strips off my top. I brace my hands on his shoulders to keep my balance while he pulls my boots off, then tugs my pants down my legs. Once I’m naked, my man starts the water, and after gently tugging my hair tie free, he ushers me beneath the warm downpour.
“Know you’re gonna be pissed at me once the shock has subsided, but I needa get clean too,” Zeke announces a second before he steps inside the cubicle with me. “Cops mightn’t be far away… we need all the evidence gone.”
“It’s okay.”
My mind can hardly recall why I was angry at him, not when my little brother is fighting for his life. My anger and hurt have evaporated for the moment. I turn, sliding my hands around his sides to link my fingers at the small of his back and bury my face in his neck. I need him to hold me. I need his strength. The force with which he returns my embrace tells me he needs me just as much.
“What went wrong?” I ask.
“We don’t fuckin’ know. They pulled inside the gates, threw him out, shot him, and sped off before we could blink. We fired back, but they were too quick. Slash and Toker have gone after them with some of our enforcers.” His touch is soft as he rubs my back. In the wake of his gentle caress, the tears that have been threatening since I saw my brother roll out of the spool of carpet begin to flow. “He’ll be okay… Fret’s the most stubborn of all of us, sweet thing. If anyone can survive this, it’s him… you know he’ll wanna have this out with your father face to face.”
A small smile curls my lips upward, and I hiccup with a tiny laugh until the sobbing takes hold again.
Fret really is stubborn, his tenacious personality an ongoing joke within our family.
Hell, it’s been said that he makes me look reasonable.
If anyone can get through this, it’s him.
“Let’s wash off. We needa get back out there,” Zeke tells me when my tears slow. “Slash and the others will be back soon… plus, we needa head off the cops if they’ve been called.”
The Shamrocks compound is situated in an industrial area. We own most of the buildings around us since they house some of the legitimate businesses we use to launder the money made running guns and growing and distributing weed, but it’s the middle of the workday, and there’s no telling who heard the commotion and phoned it in.
Most so-called upstanding citizens fail to realise that the police aren’t any better than the criminals they profess to take off the streets to protect society. Of course, most people haven’t learnt the hard way how stacked against the rest of us the justice system truly is.
It’s a lesson I’ll never forget.
Grabbing my loofah, I scrub over my body until the blood-tinged water swirling at my feet runs clear. I shampoo my hair and rinse it out, then settle my back to Zeke’s chest when he snags the conditioner bottle from my hand and works it through my locks. He massages my scalp until I can’t keep a shudder from running through me, then moves under the water to wash while my conditioner soaks.
I watch the muscles in his back ripple as he soaps himself up.
Even though my head warns me that I shouldn’t be looking at him like he’s mine, that he’s a liar who can’t be trusted, I can’t stop myself from raking my gaze along his body. Wide shoulders, tapered waist, bulky thighs that show how strong he is. Every part of him calls to the woman in me. Knowing that he’s just another in a long line of men to betray me doesn’t help me ignore that fact. Rather, my battered heart tells me to believe his excuses and my disloyal head screams that he only seeks to protect me.
My stomach churns with the truth of our relationship.
Sometimes Zeke treats me with the same contempt Alex does.
They both believe I’m weak.
With Zeke, it might come from a good place, but it still tempts fate to do her worst as the knowledge of his disrespect destroys my ability to trust him completely.
Once he’s done washing away my brother’s blood, Zeke turns to face me. In his eyes, I see the misgivings that I’m battling. He’s in love, confused, angry, sad, and worried… just like I am.
“Don’t look at me like that… this’s a bump in the road, not the end.”
“I can’t help it.” With a half shrug, I confess, “Right now, with all the lies standing between us, we feel irreparable.”
“Fuck, Lil.”
I give him a shrug.
What am I supposed to do?
Capitulate, just to have him lie to me again...
Always the one to know when he’s temporarily defeated—since I don’t think he’s ever actually beaten—Zeke silently motions for me to turn. After he rinses the conditioner from my hair, then passes me my face scrub, I battle to combat the urge to put an end to this taciturn standoff by confessing that I forgive him.
I suck the inside of my cheek between my teeth and bite down on it to stop myself.
Stepping out of the shower and towelling off, Zeke breaks the silence instead. “You did good, sweet thing. When everyone else was panickin’, you stood firm and looked after him. He owes you his life.”
“He owes you too, Zeke.” I cut the water and accept the towel he holds out to me. “I would have been useless without you.”
Without replying, my fiancé uses his big body to corral me backward until my back is against the tile wall. When I open my mouth to protest, he cups the back of my neck and brings my forehead to his. Our gazes bore into each other, the depth of longing a force field that links us cosmically.
“Lily, I?—”
Whatever he’s about to say is cut off by the door to our bedroom being shoved open with a bang.
“Police.” A brusque male voice declares. “Put your hands where we can see them.”
“Stay behind me,” Zeke whispers as he tightens his towel around his hips. I follow suit, tucking the end in at my chest to keep myself covered. “Get flat on the floor if they start shootin’.”
We exit the bathroom with our hands in the air.
“Well, what do we have here?” the cop standing in our bedroom doorway asks. “Sneak off for a quickie while the rest of your gang cleaned up after the drive-by?”
“Club,” I correct him without thinking.
“Gang, club, mob, degenerates … I don’t give a flying fuck what you call yourselves. Your man here is under arrest.”
“For what?” Zeke queries.
I sink my toes into the plush carpet of our bedroom and curl them in the soft fibres in an attempt to ground myself against what’s sure to be a mortifying experience if my towel keeps slipping. In front of me, Zeke stiffens as I drag the top of the bath sheet back into place with one hand. I raise my hands again, determined not to give the cop a reason to open fire on us. Zeke must sense my predicament because he straightens his shoulders and widens his body to keep me from sight.
Another man enters our bedroom.
He’s wearing the same suit he had on at the sheds earlier today.
Stomach whirling, heart in my mouth, I brace for what’s about to come.
“How nice to see you again, Mr. Miles.” Joseph Kingsley’s voice fills the room. “I’m glad your face has healed somewhat since your unfortunate accident yesterday.”
Zeke scoffs. “You call it an accident… I call it an assault during an illegal search.”
“Potato, potahto ,” Alex’s father retorts with a chuckle.
“I guess we’re glossin’ over the meetin’ you attended with the Maddison clan this afternoon?”
“Don’t know what you mean. I was in my office all day.” Alex’s father laughs in my face as he denies Zeke’s assertion, and the sound of his laughter makes me shiver. He’s as evil as his son when he allows himself to drop the congenial fa?ade he uses to hide his cruel proclivities. “Plenty of witnesses to attest to that fact should you get any ideas about running your mouth.”
The officer aiming the rifle at us moves from foot to foot, apparently uncomfortable with his boss’ open admission of corruption. I curl my fingers in the towel I’m wearing and press my forehead against the base of Zeke’s neck. When the muscles in his back ripple, I realise that he’s barely keeping himself under control.
Joseph Kingsley would likely be dead if I wasn’t in the firing line.
“Don’t think I can’t see you back there, Miss Mayberry,” Alex’s father calls out when Zeke leaves his goading unanswered. “I’d ask you to step out from behind your biker and face me yourself, but I know you prefer having the men in your life do your dirty work for you… my bullet-riddled son can certainly attest to that.”
My mouth is in gear before my brain catches up. “Actually, I’m the one who shot him.”
“Lily,” Zeke interjects. “Shut up.”
Too far gone to heed the warning, I glare over Zeke’s shoulder at Alex’s dad. “And I’ll do it again if he ever comes back.”
“ Ah, a little truth at last,” the father of my tormentor crows. “So, you’re the one I’m here for?”
“No,” Zeke growls. “She didn’t mean a damn word she said. She’s upset, doesn’t know what she’s sayin’.”
“I’d say I’m impressed that you’ve finally grown some fortitude, Lily … but I’d be lying,” Joseph continues, as if my fiancé hasn’t spoken. “Because we both know that when push comes to shove, you drop your clothes to the floor and offer yourself up without a fight—don’t you, angel ?”
“How dare you!” I screech. “Your son is a rapist... and you know it.”
Despite the knowledge that it’s a bad idea, mindless determination to defend myself against his vile accusation fills me. I struggle to push past Zeke. I want to scratch out the evil bastard’s eyes for daring to taunt me with his vile son’s abuse. I want to show him that I don’t need to hide behind anyone.
I can defend myself.
I literally escaped his crazy son yesterday.
“He can stay… for now .” Joseph pays me no mind, motioning at the officer under his command and then at Zeke. “But we’ll be taking his little whore to lockup. She just confessed to shooting my son.”
Rage ripples from my fiancé as he uses one arm to pin me behind him. “Over my dead body.”
“You must know that can be arranged with the greatest pleasure?”
The sound of a rifle being racked makes me freeze until I realise that it’s not pointed at Zeke. The weapon is aimed at Joseph’s head.
“The only dead body in this room will be yours if you take one more step toward them,” Angelis announces. When Joseph deliberately sidles forward a few inches, determined to push the point, Slash’s father follows and presses the muzzle to the back of his skull. “Careful now, I’ve got an itchy trigger finger… might be some kinda allergic reaction to seeing your ugly fuckin’ mug two days in a row.”
When Joseph freezes in place, a second man follows Angelis into the bedroom. The sight of him sparks my relief, especially when with Angelis’ help, he crowds Joseph and the cop from behind so they’re trapped. With a fuming Zeke in front of him, and a rife-wielding biker and a mildly bemused barrister at his rear, some of the superiority Alex’s father habitually wears dissipates. He glances at me, then at Zeke, before giving us his back so he can face the preeminent legal counsel in this state.
My boss. Gabriel Abaddon. Beloved son of one of the founding members from the US mother chapter in Philadelphia. He mightn’t wear a cut, but he’s a Shamrock, through and through.
He’s also untouchable in this country.
I don’t know why.
I don’t know how.
I just know it’s true.
Gabriel is a law unto himself in Australia.
Maybe worldwide.
“I hope you have a warrant for this little circus?” There is humour in Gabriel’s voice as he poses his question. “I’d hate to see the amount of paperwork you’d need to wade through if it turns out this is an illegal raid.”
“We have probable cause,” Joseph replies with a smirk. “Multiple calls were made to triple zero about gunshots coming from this area.”
Gabriel waves the document he has clutched in his hand in Joseph’s face. “That’s funny… because I immediately put in a request for the records when my clients informed me that you’d stormed their premises for the second time in less than forty-eight hours. I bet you’ll never guess what the good people at the emergency services department told me?”
Joseph’s smug expression drops.
Angelis grins.
Gabriel folds his arms across his chest.
Zeke relaxes a little.
I look between the three men in front of me, unable to accept that the solution to Joseph’s unwanted presence at the compound is this simple… and that Alex’s seemingly never-ending plan to control me is actually this convoluted. My skin crawls, dread infects every part of me, as the possibility that Alex isn’t going to stop until he possesses me sinks in.
Cub’s been hurt.
Sander’s been hurt.
I’ve been hurt.
Fret’s been hurt.
Alex needs to die to set us free.
I’ll set the world on fire if it’s what it takes to make his demise a reality.
“Enlighten me,” Joseph quips.
It takes me a second to remember what he’s talking about.
Always ready to land the knockout blow, Gabriel grins. “Emergency services told me that no such calls had been received. In fact, when I asked them to dig a little deeper, they informed me that the only hint that anything was amiss in this area came seventeen minutes ago when you radioed in a potential gun threat yourself .”
“They must’ve been mistaken.”
“Or you arranged this encounter to manufacture yourself some time alone with Miss Mayberry and Mr. Miles? After all, the chance of a t ête-à-tête to intimidate the young woman who could have your son imprisoned a second time for abduction and grievous bodily harm must be hard to resist for a man like you?—”
“Once again,” Joseph cuts Gabriel off. “I’d appreciate you enlightening me… this time as to what kind of man you believe I am?”
“Certainly,” Gabriel replies with absolute calm. “You’re the kind of man who takes pleasure in the pain of others. The kind who not only assists in but covers up the depraved games his sick son plays with young women. The kind who should be stripped of any semblance of power in this country and jailed alongside the men he’s placed behind bars in order to keep his dirty secrets safe. The kind who deserves natural justice.”
“I’d almost agree, except you missed one thing… I’m also the kind of man who’ll stop at nothing to take revenge on the miscreants who refuse to learn their place in this world. That means you can dream of stopping me, locking me up, killing me, whatever outcome fills your tiny, empty lives with comfort, but it’ll never happen… I am the law. You’re the ones who must abide by it.” At the end of his invective, Joseph gives me a malevolent grin, then shoulders his way toward the exit with his rent-a-cop nipping at his heels.
Before he breaches the doorway, he tosses one last taunt in my direction. “Now, if I was attempting to intimidate Miss Mayberry, I’d caution her that this isn’t over. Alexander will heal, and then he’ll expect restitution… likely in the form of his Lily’s unbridled struggle. I don’t believe anyone’s ever given my son the same level of hunt as Miss Mayberry. Seems her fight has become quite addictive.”
“Fuck. You.” Zeke moves to launch himself after the minister for police. “I’m gonna kill you and your fuckin’ son.”
Thankfully, Angelis and Gabriel use their bodies to block Zeke from following after Joseph. I duck in front of him when it looks like he’s going to push through them and, hands on either side of his face, I force him to stop and look at me.
“Don’t. Please. ” My lips refuse to cooperate when I try to offer him a soothing smile. The strain I’m feeling must show on my face, because his eyes flicker with remorse. “He’s baiting you because he wants you to do something he can lock you up for. Don’t fall for his tricks.”
In contradiction to the guilt dimming his expression, Zeke’s grip is harsh as he knocks my hands from his face and seizes hold of my shoulders. I grip the front of my towel as he shakes me. Darkness invades his eyes, and he walks me backward until my backside hits the dresser that lines the opposite wall. When Zeke stares hard at me, disappointment and rage etched on his face, the two older men in the room with us quickly slip out into the hallway.
Angelis pulls the bedroom door shut behind them.
“Tricks?” Zeke demands the second we’re alone. “You wanna warn me not to fall for his tricks?”
“Yes.” Unsure why he’s turned his wrath my way, I hold his gaze as I slowly nod. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Fuck’s sake, Lily.” Zeke’s fingers tighten around my upper arms. “You’ve learnt nothin’. Not. A. Thing. In six fuckin’ years. The only thing that can hurt me is somethin’ happenin’ to you … which is why I’m goddamned furious you told Joseph that you shot Alex.”
“I… I ?—”
“Didn’t think? Fell for Joseph’s tricks? Halle-fuckin’-lujah! You’re finally gettin’ it… except you’re still worryin’ about the wrong people. Just like the last time.”
“ Oh, excuse me,” I snap back at him. His accusation stings, even though I recognise it was stupid to tell Joseph that I’m responsible for Alex’s current injuries. “I’m sorry for caring. About you. About my brothers. About my family. About this club. I forgot only those with a patch, and a big, swinging dick are allowed to do that.”
“Always so headstrong. Always looking for a way to martyr yourself for us.”
I narrow my eyes to discourage the angry tears that are building from falling down my cheeks. “You arsehole.”
Letting go of my left arm when I wrench free of his grip, Zeke curls his fingers around my right bicep, and drags me to our unmade bed. He presses his hands on the top of my shoulders and makes me sit. I plonk on the mattress with a huff, keeping my unblinking stare fixed on him.
My fiancé glares down at me as he says, “This has nothin’ to do with havin’ a patch or a dick. It’s about common sense. Logic. Use that big brain of yours to see that the only person we needa be worried about is you . Alex doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want Fret. He doesn’t want any brother in this club. Neither does his corrupt as fuck father. They want you… and everyone can see that, but you.”
“They’ll use you to?—”
“So fuckin’ what?” He scrubs his palms along the shaved sides of his head. “If you don’t stop and think, and slow the fuck down and trust me, this is gonna end up worse than the last time. Alex has some screws loose, but it’s clear that he’s spent a long time thinkin’ this through—from whatever he’s pulled with the Bishops to his dad focusin’ the police force on us. He believes that you’re his… and he’s not goin’ to stop tryin’ to take you unless I put a bullet in his head.”
Bottom lip wobbling, I run my fingertips over the lilies etched over Zeke’s heart. “I’m yours, never his.”
“Then prove it, metukà shelì. Trust me to keep you safe.”
“I’ll try.”
With his thumb, Zeke traces my swollen bottom lip. He curls his fingers under my chin and makes me stretch to meet him halfway as he stoops down. Our mouths collide. Hungry. Angry. Unsure. We kiss like it’s been months since we last tasted each other. When Zeke’s free hand drops to the top of my towel, I arch my back and open myself up to his touch.
“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he growls once my breasts are exposed to his wandering fingers. “Perfection.”
Although alarm bells ring in my head, reminding me that we haven’t truly sorted out our issues—the lies about the letters and Alex’s release, giving Sander weed, keeping the secret about Nadia and Alex—I allow my eyelids to flutter shut when he palms my left breast and flicks his thumb over my furled nipple.
“God… Zeke?—”
Someone bangs on our door.
Hard and furious.
“Venom, we’ve got a situation out front,” Cub shouts. “Need you now.”
“Fuck.” Zeke jerks away from me. Staring down at me, he swallows hard, then shakes his head as if to clear it. Game face in place, he gestures to my side of our wardrobe. “Get dressed. Then grab your gun and your knife and meet me in the bar. I don’t wanna see you without a weapon until Alex is arm wrestlin’ with the reaper.”
I give him a quick nod. “Okay.”
When he turns to grab clean clothes for himself without saying anything else, I snatch some random items from my drawers and lock myself in the bathroom.
Once I’m alone, it all hits.
Forehead against the wood of the door, I close my eyes and fight back the urge to scream. Everything is a mess. My relationship. My family. The MC. Alex is back, and he’s not going down without a fight. Fret’s in the hospital—shot because of me. Sander’s going to hate us all when he returns from his basketball game to discover that Alex is back in our life. Zeke has lied, over and over. Slash and Toker have helped cover for him. My best friend supplied crystal meth to my twin.
It’s too much to deal with in one go.
“ Oh , God.” This time, when I take the Lord’s name in vain, it’s not because of Zeke’s magic fingers. No, this time, I’m pleading for some help. “Please. Please. Make Alex go away. Keep Fret alive. Bring Sander home safely tonight. Fix me and Z?—”
The door to our bedroom opens then slams shut. It snaps me out of my impending panic attack. I whirl to face the basin. The frantic, wild eyes that greet me when I study my reflection in the shaving mirror are enough to make my legs give out. I slide down the door to my backside and hug my knees to my chest. Biting down on my bottom lip, tasting the blood that runs along the seam of my mouth, I fight off the shudders that wrack my body.
“This can’t be my life,” I mutter. “It’s got to get better.”
My mind adds the end of the statement that I refuse to verbalise.
It might get better, but it’s definitely going to get a lot worse before that happens.
And that’s only if it gets better…