Page 5 of Blood

Passing the doors to our bedrooms my feet faulter at Harley’s threshold. The door is slightly ajar, and I can smell her scent all around me. I know inside is a repository of memories, happiness,her.

“Ma’am?”

“I’m coming.” I state turning away from her door.

The detectives lead the way to their car, and I slip into the backseat, ignoring the neighbors peering out at us from their windows.

Mrs. Greenwich has been bold enough to come out of her house. She’s standing on the front lawn with a coffee mug, her hair in rollers, and her nightgown on.Nosy witch.

I bash my hand against the window. “What are you looking at?”

They get to go to bed tonight, get to sleep. Everything in their lives continues like normal while mine crumbles around me. I don’t know who I am without Harley. The very thought of having to exist in a world without her churns the acid in my stomach.

The officer moves his patrol car allowing the detectives to back out of the drive, but he doesn’t follow us.

“Is it normal to have detectives and officers come to inform the family?” I ask trying to make sense of everything.

“The officer was there as a precaution.”

“Meaning?”

“We are aware of the families affiliations with the Devil skull riders motorcycle club.”

“And?”

“And it was just a precaution.”

“Whatever.” I spit.

Swiping at my phone, I bring up my messages and my soul sinks.Was she dying while I was angry texting her? Did she suffer? Did she cry out for me? Tears burn my eyes, tipping over my eyelashes, they track wet paths down my cheeks. Daddy’s death hurt, but this feels magnified, suffocating. Daddy knew the rules. You’re always walking with the reaper in your shadow when you live a life of crime. But this is Harley…

My phone buzzes in my hand, startling me.

Tyler: Babe, where are you?

The following message that comes through has a picture of his dick attached.

Need you to sit on this.

Internal rage burns through my sorrow. It’s irrational. He doesn’t know I’m dying inside. That Harley has been taken from us. This will hurt him. Harley was like his sister too.

Dammit, Harley, what happened to you?

A whimper escapes my lips, grief saturating the anger once more.

“Are you okay?” the female officer asks, her tone soft. There’s kindness in her eyes as she watches me in the rearview mirror.

“My baby sister was murdered.” The clock on her dash glares at me. It will be tomorrow in a couple of hours. “My wedding day is tomorrow. Would you be okay?” It’s bratty of me, but I don’t care.

“You’re getting married tomorrow?” A sound passes her lips. Almost a gasp. Pity.

Am I getting married tomorrow? Seems like a stupid question. Everything is so tiny and pointless compared to what I’m living right now. Harley is dead. She’s fucking dead. There will only be a veil worn of grief and torment tomorrow.

Silence blankets the car as I type two words back to Tyler.

Me: Harley’s dead.

My finger hovers over the send button. I should tell him in person…

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