My Protector

Chapter 25

I stare at the plate of food and my stomach churns; the thought alone makes me nauseous. Everything makes me nauseous. A shiver racks down my spine as I stare at the small portion of sauteed veggies and grilled chicken. It's healthy, nutritious and fairly light on the stomach; my stomach churns at the smell of the seasoned meal. I push the plate away and rest my elbows on the table and my face in my hands. This is a nightmare. "Angel, are you alright?" The soft silvery voice rattles me, lifting my head, stunned. I stare at Linda, Miranda's mother, I offer a weak attempt at a smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I clear my throat and sit straight. Compose yourself. "I just have a headache." She offers a smile and sits down in front of me; the sound of the chair legs scraping at the wooden floors grate my nerves.

"You've been looking pale; are you coming down with something?" The nurturer in her comes out as her eyes scan my tired face. I've spent hours staring at the deep black smudges that have taken up residence under my eyes, the stress wrinkles I've been given. My nervous ticks have arisen with a vengeance, I forgot how painful gum irritation is. My legs have small stark bruises from myself; a nasty habit. Whenever I get worked up, I taught myself to pinch my leg when I lost concentration; to keep me in line.

Like now. I pinch myself, my hand rubs away the sting as I offer a smile. "It's that time of the year for stomach bugs. If I do, it's not so shocking." She shakes her head at me; a kind, motherly smile rests on her features. Warm brown eyes meet mine; Miranda looks so much like her mother.

"I'm not a doctor; nor is anyone in my family; but drink some orange juice. My mother always made me drink it when I was coming down with something, it worked like a charm. Is there any truth behind that statement?" Her question is welcomed question; one that I'm thankful she asked.

"It depends on the person, the virus, and who you asked. Staying hydrated is a great way to feel better when you are coming down with something. In moderation, the Vitamin C in orange juice is good." Every doctor has different views on the matter, some say Vitamin C is a cure for everything, others say it's a myth. To each their own.

"Do you want me to go get you a glass? We even have some with pulp if you like." I can't find it in me to tell her I'm not coming down with a cold, or anything of the sort. It's embarrassing. I refuse to be a burden to more people in the MC; it's bad enough I'm a burden for Axel. To expose more of my past; the brutality of my childhood, it disgusts me to bring up. The monsters aren't mine to bear, yet I'm the one forced to keep them shadowed, hidden. How many times will someone have to tell me it wasn't my fault before I believe it?

"Mommy! Where's Daddy?" A small voice shouts, breaking my train of thought. Miranda skips to her mother with a furrowed brow and pinched expression; her normally carefree expression marred with worry.

"I'm not sure Baby, did you check the shop?" She crosses her arms, her cheeks glow bright red.

"No! Daddy said I'm not allowed in there, it's too dangerous. Daddy said that we could have a tea party for lunch; it's lunch time." Blaze, her father is amazing with his daughter; the large burly biker doesn't look like a man who'd be caught dead in a pink crown. Miranda sat there crying because she got a scraped knee and wanted to play dress up; all I can say is that she has him wrapped around all ten fingers.

"Baby, Daddy might be busy." Linda warns gently, making her daughter's lip wobble, her eyes dampen with fresh tears.

"But-but Daddy made a promise." Her voice cracks, she sniffles and wipes her nose with her sleeve; with the eloquence of any child. Her missing front tooth stands out; the recent cause for this attachment to Blaze. Every time something changes or happens that scares her; she loves to go to her father for his hugs, because I quote. 'Daddy's hugs make it all better! Duh!'