Rage is the residential psycho of the club. Tormented by his own demons he lives in pain and agony, a constant state of rage. Everyone knows him as the Hellhound of the Riders of Tyr , known for his cruelty and the joy he gets from causing pain. To...
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Rage
"Rage!" Iris's voice comes from somewhere far "Please, Rage."
The hurt in her voice brings me to. I snarl and stop hurting myself, trembling with the effort. I focus my eyes on her and she is crying. I take one step back. I should have never brought her in my room. She doesn't want to be there, lock up with a fucking mess. I remember that day back in the parking lot. She said I smelled bad and she fainted. No one would ever like me. I am a freak. I am dead inside and I am rotting and she can smell it on me.
"Please, Rage." she implores again "Please, do not do this to yourself. It pains me to see you in pain."
My eyes widen. There is not fear in her eyes, no disgust. Just pain, hurt. With great effort she moves to the bedside table and grabs the plate with the sandwich.
"I am going to eat, Rage. I just waited for you to eat with me. I like eating with you. That's all. But if you want, I will eat. Just stop, please."
I lean my head to the side and study her. I can't fathom the meaning of her words but the smoothness of her voice sooths me and keeps the Hellhound at bay. Her cute little mouth opens and she takes one small bite with her pearl teeth.
"I'll eat with you." I say.
She swallows the small bite and turns to me. And smiles. Fuck those smiles but they turn me inside out. I open the door and yell at Wood to make me something. Minutes after he comes in and hands me the plate without even looking at Iris. Good. That fucker was the one working with Iris, helping her out and I didn't like it. Luckily, he is a thrall that knows his place.
I take the plate, I sit on the bed and take one bite. She does the same and we eat in silence just looking at each other. After we are done, I make sure she takes her pills and help her down. Doc said she had lost a lot of blood and she isn't to get out of bed for at least a day.
"The bandages need changing." I say when her head hits the pillow.
The Doc said as much. He said that they need to be changed at least three times a day but I can't...I'll touch her. I can't touch her, she'll be hurt.
"I can call Ava to do that." I get up and away from the bed.
"You...You don't want to?" she is barely audible.
I bite my lip. Changing her bandages means touching her, applying some cream Doc left me for her back, my filthy bloodied hands on her wounds. I will hurt her, make her cry. But her eyes plead to me and I am a goner. I will do it if she wants me to.
I get up and go to the bathroom to wash my hands. It is still hard for me to believe that this is still my bathroom, all clean and white, without blood stains and black filth everywhere. I look at my face on the new mirror. I can do this. I can touch her without bringing her any more pain. I throw some water on my face and I go out the room. Then I realize she needs to take that t-shirt off. I was in the room when Doc took care of her and it took all my will not to break his arms as he touched Iris and clothed her. The realization that I will touch her naked skin makes my dick twitch. Fucking psycho! I scream in my head for thinking about her like that.
