Page 6 of Ghoul

RBMC State Party

My chest rose and fell unevenly, and I reminded myself to remain as calm as possible. I had seen his face plastered all over every local news channel as his early release caused an uproar in our town. Every time his mugshot popped up on the TV, my blood boiled beneath my skin, and I told myself his days were numbered. His luck was about to run out sooner rather than later, I would see to it. I’d spent the better part of my teenage years learning everything I could about Spider, Ghoul, and the Royal Bastards Motorcycle Club so as not to draw attention when I eventually planted myself into the club. That part I accomplished without a bat of my deceptive eyelashes. I was invited to celebrate Ghoul’s release, but in actuality, it was pure blind luck. I overheard a couple of out of state brothers talking about it last night at a nearby gas station. I made small talk with them and meaninglessly flirted enough to get an invite to accompany them.

It was profoundly pathetic how little effort it took to be a simple piece of ass here for the taking. None of the women I’d met thus far seemed to have any self-worth, and a large number of them wore the “Property of” patch on their leather vests. They were openly announcing they allowed their man to claim them as property and not as an equal. It sickened me to see how blissfully happy they appeared. I bet a large number of them were utterly clueless as to what these men were capable of. Of course, I only knew about two of them firsthand, but a simple search on the internet lit up my computer screen like Christmas morning with the infidelities other brothers had been charged with. I wasn’t interested in them, so I honestly saw it as a waste of time to dive too far down that rabbit-hole. I did enough research about each of them to get an idea of who and what I would be dealing with, but other than that, I didn’t bother.

All of those things, I was prepared for, though. There were enough motorcycle gang shows on cable and other television platforms to get a good idea of what to expect from today. Spider was the first to greet me, and all it took was seeing the faded ink on his forearm to take me back to ten years in the past. “Let me guess, Spider,” I announced in a nonchalant tone, hoping he wouldn’t recognize me as effortlessly as I had him. My traits had vastly changed over the years, and I wasn’t a rack of ribs anymore like I had been when I was a kid. It might have been overkill, or maybe it was me being extra cautious, but I wore colored contacts, and intentionally downplayed the accent I’d picked up from living in Cleveland. It took years of reconnecting with old friends from West Virginia to stop myself from saying certain things that everyone around here would. My mindset was if I didn’t sound like I was from Ohio, they wouldn’t suspect as much.

“What gave it away, the tattoo or the patch that literally says it?” He laughed, calling me out, and slowly ran his flattened palm beneath the patch to draw attention to it. He dusted at the patch on the opposing side of his chest that said, “President.” “I go by that as well, in case you were wondering. You need anything, you let old Spider know.” He winked, and I nodded in agreement. He headed toward a popup tent where a circle of people gathered under it, each unfolding camping chairs or pulling in drink coolers so they could take part in whatever was going on. The closer we got to them, the clearer it became what everyone was doing, smoking pot—no clue how I hadn’t smelled it before since anyone with the ability to smell would know.

“C’mon. Don’t just stand there gawking…unless you’re a prude.” He smiled, waiting for me to walk a few steps behind his lead.

I wanted to argue, but as my mouth parted in protest, my eyes landed on my target, Ghoul. My legs shook with anticipation, and my heart pounded a little harder against my ribcage, knowing this would be the closest I had ever been to him. My muscles carried me silently behind Spider, the only noises to leave my body were the barely audible inhaling and exhaling I required to continue living. I’d never been so overwhelmed with emotions in my whole life. I imagined the inside of my brain looked like a pinball machine with the ball bouncing erratically off each receptor, triggering a different feeling each time.

He sat silently surrounded by the others, talking about what was done to my dad. They all seemed like proud fathers or hypocritical uncles. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. Maybe it was how much of an easy topic my dad’s death was to them. Maybe it was shock that stopped them or maybe distaste, I really had no idea, but my feet quit moving. Not long after, I was pulled onto a man’s lap, and a shot glass slid in between my thumb and pointer finger. I wanted to run as far as possible from all of this, but I had to be strong. The silent promise I had made to dad was broken, but now, I lived for the both of us. When I breathed in, he breathed out, and nothing about being here would scare him off, so it wouldn’t me either. His bravery and compassion surged through my veins, and suddenly, it was a little easier to swallow the liquor that could have who the hell knows what in it. I glanced at the name on his patch, Trick. I could tell by the simple lack of human decency, he was definitely in like company with the rest of these seedy guys.

The thing I found most shocking was how complicated it was to be around Ghoul. I held my breath when he opened his mouth to speak and probably would have lived off that last inhalation if it were possible. He would pause before speaking as if each word to leave his mouth was well thought out and held more meaning than the last. As he inched closer to me, my mind raced with every irrational thought possible. His eyes flickered to mine momentarily, and then his lips ever so slightly pressed against mine, paralyzing every fiber of my being. Hate immobilized me, and the poison seeped from his body into mine, it stretched its devilish wings and shredded through my insides, dancing with the sins that already flowed within my body. Fury overshadowed my hooded eyelids, and I clenched my fingers into fists, driving my nails into my palms to keep from burying the knife in my pocket a foot into his intestines. My teeth caught my bottom lip between them, savoring his taste, and my eyelids closed with gratification. I hated how excited my body instinctually welcomed his and left a hypothetical fading line for him to overstep, blurring the boundaries I had clearly set for him in my mind. He was a killer and not a random one. He took my future away from me. It didn’t matter if he was aware of what he’d done or not. I was made of weakened flesh and bone that could apparently be persuaded easily.

I shook my head when my feet touched the ground and took off around the building of the clubhouse. “Stupid. Fucking stupid!” I hatefully spat out and hit my forehead with the palm of my hand, and my fingers weaved up into my hairline. My skin ripped against the brick of the building as I slid down onto the grass and hid my face in my hands. I had the perfect chance. He was finally within reach; I could have taken his life. I didn’t understand what stopped me. What did I care if there were witnesses or when it happened? Any added breath to his life was one more than he should be allowed. I hated him so much, but I hated myself even more.

“Are you okay? Look, I’m sorry I touched you without permission, Ginger.” The gruff voice apologized while his boots shuffled through the tall blades of green, and he bent down in front of me. “Fuck. I’m sorry if this is my fault. I just couldn’t take any more of that dickless narcissist. I hate people who prey on others just to make them feel better about themselves.” He shook his head and pulled a pack of cigarettes from behind his leather vest and tapped it against his hand a couple of smokes popping out the top. “You smoke?”

I shrugged and uncovered my eyes, convincing myself the kind words he spoke were lies. He wasn’t a good man; this was all a façade. We were alone. Everyone else was around the building and wouldn’t find his lifeless body until I was gone. The seconds ticked excruciatingly slow as I considered how to bleed his life from him. I had thought about this for years and never found a way that suited my rage. All of a sudden, I saw everything clearly. My eyes were finally open to what I had tried so desperately hard to see. It was too soon, that was why I didn’t kill him minutes ago, and why I would continue to wait. Just killing him was too humane. I wanted to do exactly what he had done to me. He ripped my heart from my tiny ten-year-old chest. I used to dream of all the people I would heal after I earned my doctorate. I wanted to cure people of every illness I could, and those I could not, I swore I would be by their bedside, holding their hand. He exposed me to the ugliness of the world much too early and left me to form my own thoughts. I’d bared witness to such a tragedy that the moment my conscious figured out what was happening around me, wickedness spoiled my innocence. The package that held my dreams and aspirations was torn open too early and decayed until I was the person I am today. A bitter and confused fucking mess.

“Ginger?” He raised an eyebrow, wrapping his lips around the butt of one and cupped his hand in front of it as he struck a match, puffing gray smoke between us.

“Ginger?” I asked, my suddenly silver tongue finding the courage to reply to him, and although I didn’t smoke, I took a cigarette and let him light it for me.

“I noticed your roots. My mom was a hairdresser,” he admitted, shrugging, and shuffled around until he was beside me on the ground. “Used to make me help her with her clients to keep us both away from the pitiful excuse of a father I had.”

My initial reaction wasn’t pitying, it was happiness that his life sounded like the one he deserved, but I wouldn’t accomplish anything with that attitude. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” I nudged his body with mine and crossed one ankle over the other. I needed him to believe I was comfortable around him, even if I was far from that.

“Eh. Not everyone gets dealt a good life,” he paused and took a drag, “Guess some have to be dealt shit for everything to even out.”

“You are right about that,” I agreed honestly as a sadistic smile snuck onto my lips. How oblivious he was that I was talking about him was so satisfying. At the beginning of our story, he’d unknowingly folded my cards before I had a chance to see their worth. Now, I was strong enough to flip them over within my clutches and see how much I could take from him with my hand. I would rob him blind of everything he could offer. Once he realized what was happening, he would hopefully be too far gone to recover. Naturally, him keeping his life was still questionable, so I could always kill him at any given moment if I changed my mind.

“Ghoul?”

“Yeah?”

“I am legal, by the way. I’m twenty.” I shyly grinned, blowing out the last of nicotine left in my mouth.

“Good to know,” he replied after a moment of silence and tipped an imaginary hat.

“He was right about the bitch part, though.”

Ghoul laughed and ran his hand over his beard, cupping his hand over his mouth as he coughed. “About you or me?” He turned his face toward mine and pressed his teeth into his tongue as he awaited my answer.

“I can’t answer that without getting to know you. Maybe both.”

“Fair enough.” He stretched his long legs outward and then yawned. “Wanna get back to the party?”

“Sure.” Once he was standing, I held my hands out for him to help me get to my feet, and his hands were grasping mine in seconds. A mixture of fury and pleasure erupted from his skin against mine. My eyelids slowly blinked, and I looked the devil who had created me in the eyes, knowing what I had to do. Make him love me, and then I would slowly pull him apart stitch by stitch, ensuring the pain was worse than anything he had ever experienced in his life. “Let’s go.” I linked our fingers together, testing him.

“Let’s go then,” he confidently said in a deeper voice than he’d used before, unsuspectingly tangling himself in my web. Before it was over, I would become the same thing he’d been to me for years, the face that lulled him into his nightmares.

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