One Hundred & Thirty-Six Scars (The Devil's Own, #1) (9 page)

BOOK: One Hundred & Thirty-Six Scars (The Devil's Own, #1)
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It took us forty-four hours to get to Westbeach. I was a little on the cranky side because I’d never been a fan of traveling, but I was glad that we were finally there nonetheless.

“Wake up, bitches! We’re here!” Phoebe beamed from the driver’s seat.

Both Melissa and I tried to take turns with driving, but she had nothing of it. The girl actually loved being behind the wheel far too much.

“We just need to stop off at Sinsation and then we can head to my house.”

“You have a house here?” I asked, glancing out the windows, watching all the street lights passing us by.

“I did as a child. Where do you think I kept all my cars,” she answered with a small smirk.

“I guess I never thought of that,” I answered, running my hands through my hair. Phoebe was a car fanatic. One would think coming from an MC family she’d share the same passion for bikes, but that wasn’t the case here. She had a collection of cars that she boasted about on a daily basis, her eyes flashing with passion and love. I hoped that one day she could mix her career with her passion.

We pulled up to a huge building. The walls were stroked in gloss black and the doors shining a bright blood red with
Sinsation
written in red over the top of the door.

“What kind of bar did you say this was?” I asked, pulling my hair into a ponytail and rounding the car to make my way beside Phoebe.

“A swingers’ bar or sex bar. I need a drink,” Melissa answered, walking toward the door.

The initial thought that crossed my mind was… gross. The second one was that I could do with a drink. I was too tired to care if I was sitting on a seat that had previously had a bare ass pushing up against it.

Nope, don’t go there, Meadow.

Walking into the bar, nothing was out of the ordinary. I think my imagination had more fire. It looked like an average bar, only more discreet. There were booths that lined down the edges with the bar sitting in the middle.

After Phoebe introduced us to her friend Jimmy, who worked behind the bar, I ordered a drink, taking long sips and enjoying the fire that set aflame in my throat.

My eyes began scanning the room nervously. I guess it was a habit. I tended to place men in a basket by their looks. I couldn’t help it. Running my eyes along, I began my judgments.

Stay away from him

He could be okay

Nope. Pervert.

“Meadow? You okay, babe?” Phoebe asked, holding her drink in her hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered her, because truthfully—I was okay.

“It’s okay, Meads. You’re safe in Westbeach. Trust me. My family own this town. Okay?”

I nodded my head, my shoulders relaxing an inch. “I trust you, Phoebe. You’re the only person I do trust.”

This was true, I trusted her with my life. Not only was Phoebe Rendon one hell of a beautiful woman, but she was loyal, kindhearted and loving. I couldn’t imagine my life without her in it.

“Thank you, I love that you trust me,” she answered, her eyes glassing over.

One of these days I would open up to her. Each and every day I inched closer to telling her what my life was like. I knew in my mind that if anyone was to understand, it would be her. Not because she’d been through similar, but because she was just one of
those
people.

“Holy effing shit,” Melissa whispered loudly from her seat. “Isn’t that Twisted Transistor?” She nudged Phoebe and I turned my attention to Jimmy as we began chatting about the latest software release from Microsoft. It turns out Jimmy was only bartending on the side, he wanted to do something with software or web design eventually, and he was in a loving relationship with his boyfriend of two years. He had a daughter from his previous wife and they had a solid relationship together as well.

I was lost in conversation when Phoebe tugged my arm, flicking her head to one of the tables. “Check it out, girl. It’s Twisted Transistor!”

“Who?” I asked because I didn’t quite catch the end.

She laughed. “Twisted Transistor… you know…”

Understanding set in. Twisted Transistor, rock band and panty wetters. Everyone who was breathing knew who Twisted Transistor was. They were the biggest rock band to hit the world since
Metallica
. With Ryder Oakley as the lead singer, his twin brother Ryker Oakley as the guitarist, along with Leo Akins and Tommy Stevens…
Yeah, I knew who they were.

“Oh, yeah, I know who they are,” I answered, turning my attention toward the table of the hottest and most famous rock Gods known in our day and age. I smiled politely at them before bringing my attention back to Jimmy. I wished I could’ve said I was as excited to see them as much as Melissa was, but I wasn’t. I was not really the fangirl type. Except, a young Brad Pitt, he was worth drooling over.

 

 

We were pulling out of the bar when one of the Oakley brothers jumped out in front of Phoebe’s car, laughing at himself in the process. I chuckled under my breath. “Yeah, you won’t be laughing soon.”

Sure enough, Phoebe jumped out of the car and gave him an ear full. I was pretty sure that brother was the playboy one with all the tattoos. He’s the one who was seen with a different woman every night. My body shivered in disgust. Hey, I was not judging, but I didn’t understand it. Maybe one day, when I had experienced what it was like to have sex with someone who cared and it was not a dirty thing, I might be able to see the appeal in a man like that. But sex to me, was less than disgusting and I was in no way interested in ever doing it.

 

It was later that evening when Phoebe and I were sitting in the living room of her family home. The furniture may have been outdated, but you could feel the natural love that surrounded the walls of this house.

Phoebe handed me a glass of red wine and I took it with a small smile. She took a seat, taking a sip of her wine. The silence was deafening, but I found that this might be the perfect time to open up to her since Melissa headed home a few minutes prior.

“My dad used to lock me inside my room every day,” I blurted out.
I guessed my mind had decided that I was opening up to Phoebe that night.

Pain flashed in her eyes. “Why did he do that?”

“So he could play games with me. The first time he put his hands on me, I was four. It only got worse with age.” I attempted to swallow down the memories of being locked in his closet when I was a little girl before he began raping me.

“I’m so sorry, Meadow. No girl should ever have to cop that shit from her own father. A father is supposed to be your protector. It’s terrible that you endured that.” Phoebe’s head shook around the rim of her glass.

“It’s fine now. He’s dead. That’s all that matters,” I answered, attempting to calm myself down. I’d never opened up to anyone before, and it was hard for me to do, but I knew that there was no-one that loved me more than Phoebe.

“Tell me you killed him,” she replied dead serious.

I smiled. “I didn’t. I would’ve loved to, but someone beat me to it.”

She raised her eyebrows and turned the television down.

“Who?”

Taking a large gulp of my wine, I answered, “I don’t know his name. I just remember what he looked like. He moved into one of the empty rooms next to ours. He would’ve only been a few years older than I was, but he lived on his own…” I paused, taking a sip of my drink. “I was fourteen and I must’ve forgotten to shut the front door properly. Donald began one of his assaults on the living room sofa. I tried to do what I did every time it happened, shut myself off and let the tears rule over me. But this particular day, I was tired and my body was drained. I was tired of living and I had a pistol sitting under my bed waiting for the right time for me to pick it up to prove it. That day was the right time. I decided after he was done, I was going to blow my brains all over his bedroom walls.” I smiled through wiping the tears that were streaming down my face, and Phoebe clutched her shirt using it to wipe the flood of tears which were pouring out from her eyes.

I continued, “He was halfway through when he pulled out his pocket knife to slice one of my inner thighs. It was what he liked to do. He’d done it
every
time… one slice for each time he stole a piece of me. The scars are there for life, to match the ones embedded in my soul. He laid the knife against my skin and my chest began to heave….” Pausing again, I swallowed past the bile that was beginning to rise in my throat from the memories. “I knew what kind of pain was coming, but I rested in the fact that this would be the last time I’d have to endure it because I was done. I closed my eyes and held my breath, waiting for that sting to come over my thigh and the blood to trickle down over my other one hundred and thirty six-scars, but it never came. Instead, I felt the weight of him being pulled off me. The shadow his body created over my shut lids now shone with light. When I heard the sound of a fist connecting with skin, I shot up off the sofa and widened my eyes. I stood and ran to the front door, slamming it shut. I looked to my savior to see his massive frame standing over Donald. He wore a dark hoodie and loose jeans. I told him to stop, which he did. I looked down to Donald, who was stock still on the ground. I walked to the man who saved me… who was so huge, Phoebe. He was massive, tall and built like a house, and he would’ve only been a couple years older than I was. He was like a human killing machine. He turned his head toward me, and I’ll never forget those eyes. They were empty, dead, and absolutely lethal. He said,
‘I’ve been watching you. I had an inkling that something was happening, but no proof.’
Or something along those lines. He walked to me, took hold of the throw blanket that was on the sofa and covered me up before he walked back to Donald.
‘Let me finish him,’
were the four little words he said to me, there was probably more that he said, but I can’t really remember. With a nod of my head, it was done. I don’t even know what he did with the body. He told me to gather all my shit and stay in his room. When he didn’t come back, I found out I had an aunt. She didn’t know about me until I showed up on her doorstep, and I never saw him again. I dreamt of him every night.” I blew out a deep breath, taking a large gulp of my drink and giving Phoebe a small smile. She hadn’t moved.

“Fuck, Meadow. I have no words. I’m feeling a churn of emotions right now and I’m not sure how I feel. I just want to turn back the clock and take you. My dad would have loved you.”

I smiled, placing my glass on the coffee table. “Me too. I don’t know why we’re given the lives we’re given, but I like to think there’s always a deeper reason.”

Pheobe stood from her spot on the sofa and walked to me, plopping down and pulling me into a warm embrace. “I’m so sorry, Meadow. My heart aches for you.”

I pull back, wiping my eyes and smile. “Thank you.”

“I wonder who the boy was?” she asked, sitting on the sofa.

“I tried looking for him. He gave me the key to his room, told me to wait there for him and that he’d be back after he had tidied up and gotten rid of the body. I waited for two weeks and searched for clues around his room trying to find out who this mystery man was, but there was nothing. I owe this man my life. He has no idea how close I came to ending myself that day.”

“I hope you find him one day.”

“Me too.”

We walked into the kitchen and placed our emptied glasses into the dishwasher. We’d made plans to go out tomorrow night, so I made my way upstairs to the bedroom I was staying in. After slipping into my pajamas, I crawled beneath the soft sheets and closed my eyes, praying that me talking about my past wouldn’t bring on any nightmares.

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