“Pax, what the fuck are you up to?” I call out. “We need to talk about a few things.”
He isn’t answering me as I make my way through the foyer and head upstairs. I can hear the sound of the shower running in the washroom and laugh to myself; he totally would want to shower in the main house. It’s like a spa in there and so much more luxurious than the guesthouse.
I turn the corner and see Pax as my heart stops dead. I inch my way closer and stare at his ink covered arms wrapped around what appears to be my mother’s naked frame through the fog of the shower door. I take yet another step closer, feeling dizzy, but I shake my head and I’m not damn well leaving until I know it’s her… and motherfucker, it’s her all right, I couldn’t possibly mistake those bleach-blonde locks.
You’ve seen enough, I tell myself, as I back away and stagger into the hall trying to find my composure. I breathe in deep, begging myself not to overreact, not to cry, just put one foot in front of the other.
Escaping out the back door, I stop in the middle of the yard, my heart pounding in my chest, and the tears streaming down my face.
Kings don’t fucking cry, stop crying!
It hurts to breathe, and I’m caught in a moment of madness wondering if I should grab a fucking butcher knife and kill that cunt. God knows I want to. Fuck it.
I glance over at the lawn tractor and smile as I wipe my face on my sleeve and swallow. I can’t help but laugh as I crash the thing through the patio doors and straight into the sitting room as glass falls all around me, and I don’t give a single fuck as I hit the lever and turn on the blade. The sound of it grinding up the rug under the tires is fascinating, and I can’t help but continue to drive it into every table and piece of furniture, cursing Satan’s name until I look around and see that the entire room is now just as scratched and broken as I feel.
I leave the thing running and hop off before I saunter my way into the garage and key the fuck out of the Beamer and Mother’s Cadillac, making good and sure I leave my name where she can see it. Then I start that shit with fingerprint command and back it the fuck right through the garage door. The impact sends wood chunks flying all around me, nailing the roof, and landing all over the driveway.
I put it in park, storm back inside, and straddle the Hog before I start and rev the engine as the exhaust billows in while I walk it backward as far as it will go until I hit the wall. I watch the gauge until the RPM’s hit max and then I punch it out of the garage as I hit the throttle again and open her up. Fuck you guys! I think to myself; I’m seething inside.
Those fucks are so lucky I don’t have a Goddamn gun. The tears just keep coming, making it hard to see, making me more livid. The angrier I get, the harder I turn the throttle as the pounding in my mind and chest fill me with nothing but rage.
I barrel through the stop sign and keep the bike pinned to the max as I see the Club approach up ahead. I’m not sure if the Harley can take out a wall but I’m about to find out. I laugh to myself. I glance at the speedometer, happy as fuck to see it redlining as I shut my eyes and let the bike take me through the tin wall. The sound is extremely loud as I slam down as hard as I can on both brakes, the tires screeching as I blow through the bar counter and come to a hard stop. Bottles of liquor smash all around me and the rush is like nothing I’ve ever felt. I shakily dismount the bike and look behind me at the damage, stunned I’m still alive.
I guess it helps being the daughter of Satan.
I’m positive it’s the adrenaline coursing through me that’s keeping me going as I chug from the bottle of Jack and slide down the wall to the floor.
Think, Kirsten, what are you doing… what’s next?
My hands are trembling as I try to get a grip on myself, wondering where to go from here. Angered that my lips taste like Pax, I smash the bottle against the floor as hard as I can and reach for the gin.
My world is a fucking sham and I realize that no matter how much money I have, it’s useless when I have nowhere to go when it falls apart.
I feel my phone buzz in my jacket and squint my eyes to see it’s Pax on Satan’s phone. I don’t care what his excuse is, I always knew this would happen. I ignore his messages, dump the bottle of gin over the phone, and pick up my helmet that rolled its way over to the wall and I smile.
That which doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger, right, Satan?
I pull myself to my feet, shove my helmet on, and make my way out to the Ninja, happy I took both sets of keys.
Fuck you, Pax, if you think you’re ever gonna find me. Hearing sirens in the distance, it’s safe to assume I’ve been ratted on, so I take one last look around and leave the Hill, knowing there is nothing left for me here.
I don’t know where I’m going but I plan to drive this bike until it runs out of gas and then figure it out from there. Maybe I’ll become a
