Page 8 of Bound by Destiny
I clear my throat letting the words lodge. Blowing out a deep breath and gathering myself, I respond, “I thought maybe you guys would come up for the ceremony.”
“Of course we will! We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” My mother beams as I wait for my father.
“Son, we’ll be there.” My father looks surprised that I would even think otherwise, but our relationship hasn’t been the best over the years.
Why I thought they wouldn’t come I don’t know, but I had this fear that they wouldn’t and I really want them to attend. I should’ve known they’d come. Relief hits me with their acknowledgment and knowing they will be there to support me. It’s as if a weight I didn’t know was there slowly crumbles off of my shoulders.
“Great, thank you.”
“Micah, we’ll always be here for you no matter what,” my mother says, reaching over and squeezing my hand. “The fact that you’re even worried that we wouldn’t is telling of how far apart we’ve been.”
She’s right, and it hurts. Sometimes, those we love the most are the ones we push away. I’ve been pushing my whole life and it needs to change.
Good thing I have my father’s blood pumping in my veins. When I see a goal, I achieve it. I will this too. I just need to figure out how.
3
Emery
The cool metalpresses against my throat biting into my flesh. Warmth flows from the wound down my neck. The more I struggle the harder he pulls my hair and the deeper the knife digs in. “You fuckin’ little cunt.”
Austyn looks at me motioning for me to move. Before I can even try, the knife slices through my flesh cutting off my air supply. Austyn screams my name, but I can’t respond. He allows me to crash to the ground, and my hands rush around my throat instinctively as the life drains from my body. Painfully, I fight to breathe as the panic takes over.
I jerk awake. My heart is pounding. Sitting up straight in bed, I ache as my breaths are hard to take in. The room is lit with the sunlight chasing some of the dream away, but not enough. It’s holding me with a tight grasp, and I want nothing more than to rid it from my memories. With every inhale, I try to remind myself it’s a dream and it’s over. The struggle is real as the fear has a grip on me and won’t let go.
The door bursts open and Jacks stalks in, gun in his hand and the look of controlled fury on his face. “What’s wrong?”
Inhaling deep, I pull the sheet up over my fully clothed body. “Just a nightmare. What are you doing here, Jacks?” Just asking the question, my head pounds and my eyes water. Everything starts to fall into place. I was at a party last night. I drank way too much. The nightmare slowly fades as the hangover takes its place in my cause of pain.
He searches the room, then puts his gun in the back waistband of his jeans. “Ryker called, said he and Austyn were stayin’ at the clubhouse. Didn’t want you alone and drunk, so I slept on the couch.”
As if on cue, pain slices hard in my head. I’ve been told that tequila is like duct tape in that it fixes everything. Not so much in this case. Nothing feels fixed, just broken.
“Sorry you had to stay. I’m good now.” A sad smile tips my lips as I reach over to the nightstand and grab a hair tie, throwing my long blonde hair up in a messy bun. The clothes from last night smell like smoke and alcohol, and I make a mental note to wash my sheets.
Jacks comes in and sits on the end of my bed so casually it’s as if he’s done it a million times before. I should be uncomfortable, but I’m not. “How often do you have nightmares?”
I shrug, “They’ve gotten better.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Jacks has been nothing but kind to me, and there’s no way I’d snap at him. It takes me a moment, though, to get myself under control as the dream still has a slight hold on me and me lashing out would be for the dream, not him.
“Only a few times.” He eyes me as I continue. “I don’t have a number, Jacks. It’s not like I keep track.”
“Is it JK?”
Bile rises up my throat, and I choke it down. A few weeks ago, I was picked up outside of the grocery store, of all places. JK kidnapped me to get to Austyn and it worked like a charm. He sliced my neck, arm, and stomach while Austyn watched and screamed at him to stop. He’s dead now, but that doesn’t make the memories or thoughts stop, and I’m reminded of it every time I look in the mirror. I have never been so scared in my life, not only for me but for Austyn, too.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. Never thought words would burn to say, admitting to anyone of my nightmares because of that man. It’s embarrassing, because it’s over. JK is dead, and I wish the dreams would go with him to Hell.
“Em, you survived. There’s no need for the dreams.”
Well, if that isn’t easier said than done. I may have survived but he got me, he hurt me, and that leaves me feeling raw. It’s something I can’t shake so simply. I lean forward a little, the flashes of memories pressing the fear back into me. I thought my life was over and my best friend was going to see me die. I’d never been afraid of death, but in that moment with the blade at my neck, I feared death. My words shudder as I speak. “But when I dream, the knife goes all the way through my neck and I die. It always ends with me dying there on the ground at Austyn’s feet. It’s almost like a premonition of something, and I think that’s the part that scares me most.” Almost like a repeat of previous events to come in the future, and I hate it.
Why in the hell am I telling this man this? Not a single soul I’ve told this information to. Not Austyn, my mother, father or brother—none. It’s the way he looks at me, like I could tell him anything and he’d listen and not judge. I never knew you could get so much out of one look, but I see it in him. It’s as if his presence alone is calming and reassuring.
Maybe I’m still drunk and I have loose lips.
