Not even one night passes by when the nightmares don't visit him. He learned to live with them, hide them deeply, accept all the guilt of the things he did and of the things he didn't do. And he found a home with the Riders. But Wood is simply incom...
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Wood
I haven't left the room in two days. I am in here in a smog of cigarette smoke and sustained purely on vodka. With a fucking piece of paper in my hand. I have studied it again and again for hours.
Fuck, fuck, what the hell am I doing? Am I that far gone? Have I finally snapped beyond repair? But I can't shake this feeling that churns in my stomach. I need to be sure.
I look at the frozen frame for the millionth time. The woman on it is freaking beautiful. Her eyes are the same one's as.. I can't even fucking...! They are the same as Iris's! And it's not just the eyes. Her face, her lips. The only difference is that if Iris was a breathtaking girl, this one is a gorgeous woman. She is taller than Iris and fuller, curvier. And then it's that look.
I grab the bottle and bring it to my lips as I look into those eyes. It should be fucking lust taking a hold of me as they look seductively at the man waiting for her. But it's protectiveness. Underneath the heavy lids, the sexy look, the pouting of her lips, I see it. Fear. Fuck!
I get up and open my wardrobe and I glance at the color-arranged clothes I have there. I pick one and throw a perfectly ironed tee over my shoulders. Then I clean the coffee table I have in my room that is filled with cigarette buds and I open the window to let some fresh air in before I vacuum the room. Next is my messy bed. I change bedsheets, throw them in the bin and I make the bed the same way I did in our barracks the middle of the desert. Yeah, I am weird like that. I need control over things and I take it when I can.
I glance at my room and then I head out. It's still early in the morning and there's no one in yet and I am sure my brothers are so hanged-over that they won't be up till noon. I am glad I got to avoid the third-degree. It feels nice to have a team once more, but sometimes I want to hide away and keep them off my case. Sometimes? Try all the time.
I get out and light a cigarette. I glance across the street and I see Bjorn and Iris have opened the garage early. There a few cars in line and at least two of them race in the local illegal races. It's the ridiculous colors. Good. Iris will be busy. Still, I don't want to fucking do this. He is the last person I need to see right now. Or any other day. But I need to know.
I make my way hastily to the tattoo parlor, not thinking about it too much. If Iris is in, I can be damn sure Rage is in too. He never lets her too far out of his sight, the fucking possessive asshole. Not that I blame him. If Iris was mine...She is not yours, you motherfucker!
I push the door of the parlor and brace. Of all the brothers in our midst, I am the only one that hasn't got a custom-made tatt from him. That is a pity cause the man has some mad skills. But for me? I don't think Rage would ever tattoo anything other than the inside of my open chest.
Rage knows how I feel – felt - about Iris and he simply hates me. I am sure that if I didn't wear the Rider cut, I'd be torn in pieces slowly so he could hear me scream, just cause I even thought about his woman that way. And as he turns to look at me, I see exactly that feeling take over him.
