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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Iris
It is healed, Tom's words echo in my mind. As I look into the mirror in the bathroom I doubt that my back will ever be healed. Tom said I can take the bandages off which means that what I am looking at is as good as it gets. A tear rolls down my cheeks. For as long as the bandages were on, I was spared the sight of how bad it was. Now I can't hide away from the mass of mangled flesh that is my back.
I lower my head and steady myself on the sink. I am ugly, this is ugly. Rage will cower away from this, his tortured soul won't deal with the hurt I will project for the rest of my life. I am a monument to pain, the pain he feels in him. He will draw away from me and I will lose the one thing in my life I want to keep. A whimper leaves my mouth as the thought grips my insides.
"Iris?" Rage is outside the bathroom door.
"I am coming," I try to hide the agitation in my voice but to no avail.
The door slams open and I grab the towel to cover myself up, mostly my back. Rage walks closer dressed only in his jeans and searches my eyes. He invades my personal space and leans over me.
"You are sad," his thumb wipes a tear off my cheek.
"No, no," I don't want to burden him, "I just got out of the shower."
He leans closer and catches another tear with his lips. He tastes the salty sadness and glowers down at me. He isn't mad at me. He is mad at himself. He blames himself for all the wrongs around him. I can't have it.
"I am OK," I pull the towel closer to cover my back. "I will be right out."
"Iris?" he requests.
"Yes?" I look into his eyes and feel lightheaded.
"Iris?" he hovers over my lips.
I look at him and I gasp. I have shared the same room with him for a while now and I still can't get over how perfect he looks. His eyes captivate me and there is something intense in his eyes, more than usual, more than anything and I am completely mesmerized by that look. His eyelids narrow as he takes my whole body in before pinning me with his eyes.
"Are you hiding your scars from me?"
My mouth falls open in surprise. I say nothing but guilt is painted on my face, I know as much. And above all fear, fear that he will ask me to see.
"Never do that again!" he barks coming closer, his whole body glued to me.
I simply nod. There is no way I can find myself denying him anything he asks of me. I don't want to, never will.
"Now..." he pulls closer and rips the towel off my hands.
"No!" I yell as I stand naked before him, glued to his body.
