Free Thrash by JC Emery Page B

I’ve
experienced today.
    Today is, officially, the worst day of
my life.
    There won’t be another day
that’s this bad, I swear it. Because I won’t let anything else ever
hurt like this. I refuse. I flat out fucking refuse to let anyone
else have this kind of power over me. I did so well for so
long—keeping people at bay—but then this. I gave him a chance and
this is what happens.
    “ You’re being weird,”
Diesel says as he grips my hips. “What’s wrong?”
    “ Nothing,” I lie. His lips
form a thin line, and he lowers his shaved head to meet my
eyes.
    “ I know what Ryan did,” he
says, and I tense up. Just because I stood there and watched the
entire act doesn’t mean I want to relive it right now. I can see
the shape of Dawn’s pouty lips as they form that “O” as she slides
down Duke’s dick. That’s one image I don’t think is ever going to
go away.
    “ It’s nothing,” I say, but
still he doesn’t budge.
    “ If it’s something to you,
it’s something. Come on,” Diesel says. He places his hand on my
lower back and guides me down the hall toward one of the spare
bedrooms. Since Diesel doesn’t have an officer position within the
club, he doesn’t have his own room here. Not that it matters—all of
the rooms are in need of a serious cleaning. I walk compliantly
into the room. It doesn’t even matter what Diesel has to say or
wants to do. I don’t know that I can feel any worse than I do right
now.
    The spare room is
identical in size to Duke’s and has close to the same
furniture—bed, side table, and a dresser. I crawl onto the bed and
curl into the corner, grabbing one of the two pillows and hugging
it. Diesel shuts the door and walks over. He sits down on the edge
of the bed and clasps his hands together. His voice is deep when he
coughs, likely clearing his lungs from toking up on the bong. He
reeks of weed. “What happened?” he asks.
    “ You don’t want to know,”
I say. The truth is that Diesel never asks questions he doesn’t
want an answer to, so if he’s asking me what happened, he actually
gives a shit. I blow out a breath and hug the pillow tighter, like
maybe if I keep squeezing, it’ll provide some kind of comfort. It
doesn’t.
    “ Tell me,” he says. I
could ask him to leave me alone to let me cry it out, but I don’t
want to shed a single tear over that bastard. I give myself a
moment to collect my thoughts before I speak.
    “ Duke’s in the game room
with Dawn,” I say. Taking a few more deep breaths, I clear my head
and just spill it all like this huge, tattooed, muscled man with
the shaved head is Chel and we’re out to breakfast talking shit.
“He fucked me and claimed me, and that was months ago. So I did as
I was supposed to do and I stayed away from the club, but that crap
this morning at my work? Then the crap this afternoon. I just… I’m
done. And after every awful, horrible, fucked up, mean thing he did
I still came here looking for him.”
    “ Dick,” Diesel says with a
nod of his head. He turns toward me and scratches behind his neck.
I let out a frustrated laugh and let my arms flutter into the
air.
    “ You’re preaching to the
choir,” I say. “I just... I don’t get it.”
    “ This one of those things
where you just want to bitch about shit, or you want it fixed?” he
asks.
    “ Fixed, but I got a
feeling I’m not going to like your proposed solution,” I
admit.
    “ No, you won’t,” he says.
“But at least you’ll have an idea what you’re looking at if you
stay with him.”
    “ I’m not staying with
him,” I say. Giving the pillow a punch, I look up at Diesel. He
wears a flat expression on his face.
    “ Who you bullshitting?” he
asks. “You know how this shit works, babe. He’s Forsaken. You
didn’t pick him, he picked you. Sorry you don’t like it. So pick
another club, fuckin’ hook your ass up with a civilian. We both
know that won’t work out.”
    “ And if I don’t want to be
with