Black Skulls, page 8
“We’ve found her, man,” Drew told me as he entered my room, but his eyes were watery, and there were tears on his cheeks.
I’d never seen Drew cry, so I knew it had to be something serious. I stood up, putting my hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, man?”
He shook his head. “It’s not my place to tell you.”
Right then, Mom screamed. I rushed out into the bar room. Dad was tightly holding Mom, and both of them were crying. Clayton walked over to me, tears shining on his face and swimming in his eyes. “Have you seen her yet?” he asked me.
“Who?” I asked, my chest tight. Fuck, did something happen to Amelia?
“Heather,” he muttered.
“I can’t calm down, Travis! My daughter is dead—fucking dead!” Mom screamed. “All because of that stupid bitch, Amelia! I’ll fucking kill her!”
I looked over at the table that everyone was gathered around at and forced myself to walk over. I pushed my fingers through my hair roughly, tugging at the strands when I saw Heather’s lifeless body lying on the pool table. “How in the hell did this happen?!” I roared.
Everyone stepped back from me. Before anyone could even try to begin answering me, the clubhouse doors were flung open, and Lorenzo walked in, holding a girl in his arms. “I’ve got Amelia,” he announced. “She’s alive.”
Luke and Amy rushed over to him. Luke immediately took Amelia in his arms. No matter how much I cared about Amelia, she could wait. My fucking sister was dead!
“Somebody answer me!” I roared. I wanted goddamn answers.
“We found her on the side of the road wrapped in a blanket. Her clothes were missing,” Drew told me quietly.
I dropped down into a chair. Fuck, what did Heather ever do in her fucking life to deserve this? Sure, she was a spoiled fucking brat that threw a lot of temper tantrums when she didn’t get her way, but she didn’t deserve to fucking die!
I forced myself to hold the tears back. I had to be strong for Heather’s sake. I would fucking get revenge for this, and it would be bloody. I would personally kill every mother fucking person involved.
I stood up and looked at Drew. “Deal with this. I can’t do it. Get her somewhere to be prepared for burial. I want the viewing tonight and the funeral tomorrow.”
“Son, she’s not your daughter,” my dad said, glaring at me, barely holding his own rage and sadness within. Hell, I could tell they were breaking through just from the few tears on his face.
“No, but she’s my fucking sister!” I roared. “If you’re not going to make the decision to get her prepared for burial and get shit tended to, then I’m going to fucking do it. We don’t know how long she’s been dead, so we need to fucking hurry.”
I turned away from him, anger and sadness pulsing through me like living, breathing things. I stormed down the hall to my room, slamming the door closed to my room.
Amelia
Mom’s face was the first thing I saw when I slowly opened my eyes. She was using a washcloth to wipe away the dirt and blood from my skin. I was in a shirt that smelled like my dad, and I was thankful for it. I needed some kind of support from him.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Mom whispered. “How are you feeling?”
I moved my arm a bit and groaned in pain. “Where’s Dad?” I asked her, not answering her question. I didn’t like talking about pain, and she should know that.
“Right here,” he said from beside me.
I slowly turned my head to look over at him. He was sitting on my bed beside me. “What happened to you?” he asked me quietly, his eyes pained as he looked over the bruises and cuts covering my body.
It all immediately rushed back to me, and I squeezed my eyes closed, the tears immediately beginning to run down my face. Heather. Fuck, did they find Heather? Please tell me the club found Heather.
I forced myself to sit up even though it hurt like hell. “I’ve got to talk to Cole or Travis—someone.” I hissed a breath through my teeth. “Heather—”
Dad cut me off, smoothing his hand over my hair. “Heather was found. Everyone is at her viewing—well, except Cole. He’s not doing too great. I heard him trashing his room earlier, but now I think he’s just drinking,” Dad muttered the last bit.
Fuck—Cole. I had to talk to him. He deserved to know how she died. I knew how; I could tell him, help ease his mind. After all, I did get a very vivid and detailed story of her rape, beating, and death. In fact, I was forced to suck the bastard off as he retold the story. The asshole was sick in the head and deserved to die. And I would make sure he did, no matter how much it backfired on the clubs.
Because he hadn’t just fucked with me. Now, he’d fucked with family.
I got up off of the bed, ignoring my parents’ protests. “You guys need to go. I need to get a shower and talk to Cole.”
My mom left the room, her eyes filled with worry and concern for me. My dad stood up. “Amelia, watch yourself. Cole isn’t that stable at the moment. Be careful.”
He walked out of the room, and with a tired sigh, I got in the shower. Showering turned out to be a task and a half, and I was damn near in tears when I was finally finished.
When I got out, I got dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. And when I shrugged on my leather jacket, I didn’t add my cut on top like I normally did. I couldn’t wear it right now, not with the knowledge that I had a hand in Heather’s brutal end.
I slid on my boots and walked out of the room. I’d done my best to cover the cuts and bruises on the rest of my body, but since I didn’t wear make-up, my face was just going to be seen. And I knew it looked bad. Hell, it felt bad.
I walked into Cole’s room without knocking. He was sitting on the edge of his bed in just jeans, his upper body bare. He held a bottle of Jack in his hand. When he looked up at me, he glared. “Do you know how Heather was killed?” he asked me, not bothering to beat around the bush.
Fuck, I thought I could do this.
I turned my face away from him, a tear running down my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Cole,” I whispered. “Fuck, it was all my fault.”
He stood up and walked over to me. I heard him set the bottle down, and then he grabbed my chin. I immediately yanked my face out of his hand, panic ensnaring my chest. I slapped his hand away, glaring at him. He stared at me for a few seconds before reaching forward again. He gripped my chin a little gentler and turned my face back toward him. “Amelia, I’m not going to hurt you,” he soothed, his voice a little more controlled than it had been when he first spoke to me. “I just want to know how she was killed. Fuck, I deserve to know.”
“H-he raped her and beat her.” I choked back a sob, a tear slipping down my cheek. “Then, because she was making too much noise, he shot her, clean through the forehead.” More tears ran down my face, remembering how I heard the story while I was forced to suck his dick until he got off, and the painful memory of seeing her body for days. “He fucked her dead body afterward,” I whispered. Vomit rose, but I swallowed it.
I’d never forget that fucking nightmare.
Cole held my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine. “Did you watch all of that?” he asked me. I shook my head no in answer to his question. “Then, how do you know this?” he questioned, his voice soft as he ran his eyes over my beaten, swollen face.
I squeezed my eyes closed. Fuck, I just wanted to block it all out. I thought I could tell him; I thought I could answer all of his questions, but it was too fucking hard to relive all of that again, over and over, in my mind.
“Amelia, answer me,” he commanded.
I drew in a deep breath, my lips trembling. “I was forced to suck his dick while he told me the story,” I said, my voice shaky from my tears and the emotional roller coaster that I was riding on.
Cole pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. I tried to fight against him, knowing that him holding me was only going to cause the gate holding my tears in to open wide. He held me tighter, not letting me go, and eventually, I gave in to my emotions. I broke down and sobbed, my tears running down his chest. “I couldn’t save her Cole,” I sobbed. “I’m so sorry. When he opened the trunk, I had just woken up and she was lying beside me. She was so cold—”
Cole cut me off by shhing me. “Don’t,” he soothed. “You’ve said enough. You don’t need to say anymore.”
I ignored him. I had to tell him. Now that I had started, I couldn’t stop. “She was in the same room with me for three days,” I choked out. “Fuck, Cole, I could smell her rotting.” He flinched. “I’ll never forget that smell. I don’t know how many times I watched him and his men touch her and fuck her over and over. She was so innocent, and they took that away from her. It was all my fault. I could have just told you what was going on from the start, what they were doing to me, and what they were planning, but I was so fucking stupid—”
Cole pulled my face back from his chest, forcing our eyes to connect. “Amelia, this is not your fault, okay? None of this is your fucking fault. Jesus, he beat you and raped you, Amelia. You’re a victim in this, too. You had nothing to do with Heather’s death. As much as everyone here wants to blame you for that, you can’t be blamed. My family is at fault for letting her take off during one of her tantrums.”
I pushed away from him, and my back collided with the wall. I winced in pain, a sharp breath hissing through my lips. I didn’t want to hear this shit.
“Amelia, you can’t say this was your fault. For fuck’s sake, have you even seen yourself? You’re in worst shape than she looks, and she’s fucking dead!” Cole yelled at me, getting aggravated, his temper flaring. “You’ve got to stop this. Admit that you’re a fucking victim, Amelia. Over and over again, he’s done this shit to you, but you keep it fucking bottled up inside—”
“I kept it inside because I thought it was better for everyone else, when in reality—”
He cut me off again. “No!” Cole roared, storming away from me and clenching his fists tightly. I watched the muscles in his back bunch together as his body tensed with his rage. “You kept it in because that bastard terrifies you!”
“He does not!” I yelled back at him, getting fed up with this. Why couldn’t he see that this was my fault? Why was he trying to make it out to be that I was innocent?
Cole stormed back over to me. “He does, and you know it, Amelia! You fucking push it aside because you think that fear makes you weak, but for fuck’s sake, Amelia, you’re the strongest fucking person I know! I don’t know anyone in this club who could go through the shit you’ve been put through and still stay together!” he roared.
“I’m not even together!” I screamed to the point my throat hurt, tears running down my face. “I’m fucking breaking, Cole!”
He wrapped his large, calloused hand around the back of my neck and kissed me. No matter what I had been though, I kissed him back. No matter what, I knew Cole would never hurt me. He would do everything in his power to protect me.
“You’re still together, Amelia,” he whispered against my lips. “If you were really falling apart, trust me, I’d be the first person to know, probably before you even knew yourself.”
More tears streamed down my face. “But why her, Cole?” I sobbed. “Why did he have to choose to kill Heather?”
“Even though he knew he could get to me through you, he wanted to affect the entire club, mainly my parents. Your death would not devastate them, but Heather’s would. He did exactly what he wanted to accomplish.”
I looked at the half drank bottle of liquor on Cole’s nightstand. How was that even though he had been drinking, I still believed and trusted in everything he said?
He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Come on. Let’s lay down and go to sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
After lifting me up into his arms, he carried me over to his bed and laid me down. But instead of the peaceful sleep I was sure Cole was hoping I would get, I tossed and turned all night, tormented by the images and flashbacks of what I endured with that bastard and seeing Heather’s dead body beside me for so many days.
Cole
I didn’t get a wink of fucking sleep last night. I was up most of the night trying to keep Amelia still, and when she started screaming in her sleep, it was almost impossible to wake her up. This shit was affecting her badly and tearing her up inside.
I’d left Amelia at one of the tables in the barroom this morning eating some eggs. She had told me she wasn’t hungry, but I told her if she didn’t eat the food, I would shove it down her throat. I guess she believed me and proceeded to eat.
“Cole, you look like you didn’t sleep a wink. If you need someone—” Mom began when I stepped into the chapel.
I cut her off. I didn’t need anyone. I missed Heather very much. There was no denying that, but everyone around here was blaming Amelia for it when they hadn’t even seen what she looked like. It was fucking wrong, and something needed to be done about it. Both of them deserved revenge for what the fuck happened.
“I don’t need anyone. I’ve got all of the fucking comfort I need,” I told her.
“You’re finding comfort with the woman who’s to blame for Heather being dead!” Dad roared.
Luke opened his mouth to speak, but I spoke first. “She had nothing to do with Heather’s death!” I roared. “For fuck’s sake, have you even taken two seconds to look at Amelia?! She looks worse than Heather, and Heather’s fucking dead!”
I would force him to look at her if that’s what it took.
I stormed out of the chapel and walked over to Amelia, who was staring at me with wide eyes, obviously hearing the commotion from the chapel. “Come on, babe.”
I grabbed her hand in mine, and together, we walked into the chapel. Dad clenched his jaw when he saw her. “Amelia, who did this to you?” he asked her once he looked over her face, taking in all of the cuts and bruises that covered her skin.
“Who do you think?” she spat at him.
She still felt bad that Heather was dead, and it was affecting her in a different way than it was affecting the rest of us. But I was hoping I’d gotten through to her last night, and I was hoping she no longer felt that she was at fault. She just seemed sad and pissed off all at the same time.
And that was never a good thing with Amelia because she preferred to channel her sadness into anger, which made her a lethal, ticking time bomb.
Dad got up and stormed over to us. Amelia cowered back immediately, her eyes widening in fear. I stood in front of her, pushing her against my back as I glared at my dad.
“Back off,” I snarled at him. “She’s been through enough shit. She doesn’t need you fucking crawling all up her ass. You need to be sensible and calm until she works through what happened to her, do you understand me?”
“How are we to know that she needs to work through shit if we don’t know what the fuck happened?!” he shouted. “For fuck’s sake, Cole, we know who killed Heather. It was the same fucking bastard that raped Amelia the last time she went missing! How is she not at fucking fault for this?! Because of her careless ways, she brought this shit upon the clubs!”
Amelia shoved me to the side, sending a right hook against my dad’s jaw. Any other time, I would have been insanely proud of her, but we were all too worked up over this entire situation. I had a feeling he was on the verge of snapping her neck.
If he put a finger on her, he’d be damn lucky if I didn’t kill him.
“I get this was my fucking fault,” Amelia spat at him. I guess my talk didn’t get through to her, then. She was just masking the guilt in her eyes, but I could see it now as she spoke out loud about what happened once again. “I don’t need you rubbing it in my fucking face, alright? I’ve learned my lesson from this shit. Seeing her lying naked beside me in the trunk of his car cut me deep enough. How do you think I fucking felt when I was forced to spend every fucking day that I was missing in the same fucking room with her rotting body? How do you think I felt as I watched them touch and rape her dead body over and over, and I couldn’t do anything about it because I was chained to a fucking pole?! How about when that bastard fucked my mouth relentlessly at the same time he told me exactly how he raped and killed her?!”
My dad slapped her. I slammed him against the wall by his neck before he could say a word to her. Amelia took off running out of the room. I would catch up with her later. Right now, I had shit to tend to.
“Are you insane?!” I roared, the muscles bunching in my arms as I tightened my hand around his throat. “Is this what we’ve become, fucking blaming people and hurting women of the club just because we’re caught up in our own fucking misery?!” I punched him in his nose with my free hand, and I heard the bone crunch, blood spurting onto my cut. He moved to shove me away from him, but I tightened my grip on his neck even more, cutting off his airflow. My mother pulled on my shoulders, yelling at me to let him go, but I held tight, unmoving. “This is fucking bullshit! Ever since Amelia turned herself into this person that frightens us all by the way she doesn’t give a fuck, both clubs have turned their backs on her, but yet still want her to do the work their too fucking afraid to do themselves! All of you fucking make her bend over backwards to your fucking will, and even though she’s not one of the fucking girls in this club, but an actual woman who works alongside us, she still does her best to please each of us! Yet, nobody is willing to fucking listen to her, and all you want to do is put your goddamn hands on her!”
“Cole, you’re going to kill him!” Mom yelled in my ear.
I let him go, and he collapsed to the floor, holding his throat. I kicked him in his rubs, and he grunted in pain. Kneeling down, I grabbed his cut, yanking him up so his face was level with mine. “If you ever lay your fucking hands on her again, I’ll cut them off and make you eat them, do you understand me?”
