Page 1 of Lost Soul

10 YEARS OLD

I know there was a time before he came into my life, but I don’t remember a single moment of it.

For me, the day my life began was the day my daddy brought him home to me.

I was only ten years old, but even back then I knew I would love Jessie Donavon’s beautiful lost soul until my final breath left my body.

I could sense that he knew he didn't belong in our home, his eyes gave him away. I also knew that Jessie being here would have something to do with the club, with Daddy, everything had something to do with the club.

Everyone in Manitou Springs knew that my daddy was different to regular daddies. He didn’t dress in a suit and work a nine to five. He didn’t pick Mama flowers up on the way home from work on a Friday, or watch football at weekends. No, Jimmer Carson rode a Harley, he smelt of leather and cigarettes, and his home wasn’t here with Mama and me, it was at his club with the members of the Dirty Souls MC.

Daddy lived at the club compound, an old holiday resort that was tucked up in the mountains on the border of our town. It was a place I hardly ever visited, which suited me just fine because I hated it there. I hated the people who lived there too. They had all of Daddy’s attention, he spent all his time with them, when he should have been here with me.

Mama was always telling me how much he loved us, just that he showed it in his own way. But the way I saw it, there would always be us and them. His club brothers… his real family. And today, looking at Daddy’s face, and how it was all twisted up somewhere between sad and angry, I could tell that something terrible had happened to one of them.

“The kid’s daddy died for the club, baby.” Daddy spoke to me as if the boy stood behind him wasn’t even there. “He’s one of us, and he’s gonna stay here with you and Mama for a while.” I watched his eyes narrow warningly as they shifted over my shoulder to where Mama stood, they softened before fixing back on me though.

“I’m counting on you being a good girl. Make him feel welcome, and be sure he knows the rules. Keep him in line, princess.” Daddy winked, attempting to ruffle my hair as he stood up. It didn’t budge though, it was too strong. I got my hair from Mama, long, jet black, and poker straight. Daddy always told me I got my stubbornness from her too, but I knew better than that.

I nodded my head back at him like an excited puppy, thinking how cool it would be having another kid around. I never really got to play with kids my own age, the kids from school’s parents never let them come over. I guessed that was because of Daddy. He seemed to scare everyone, everyone except me that is.

Looking at the boy, I wondered if he’d be as cruel as the other club kids I’d encountered at the compound. Daddy tried hard to keep me away from the place he loved so much, so I rarely had to hang out with the kids that lived there. They were mean anyway, especially the boys. When they thought no one important was listening, they’d call me spoilt and tease me ‘coz me and Mama lived differently to them. I understood why. Daddy never failed to give me what I wanted. He never came calling without a gift for me, and I always got my way with him. All I had to do was make my green eyes a little wider, and give him a pleading smile.

Still, none of the gifts he’d brought me in the past compared with the beautiful broken boy stood in front of me that day.

Jessie was silent, it could have been his grief, but it seemed more like he was too grown up for his age and didn’t want to be treated like a kid.

When Daddy left the house to get back to the club, I showed Jessie around the house. He didn’t speak the entire time, just let his eyes roam as I led him from room to room. Daddy hadn’t instructed me on where the boy was supposed to sleep. I made that decision for myself, showing him into the bedroom directly opposite mine.

I wanted him close. Something about him intrigued me, and even the cold vibe he gave off didn’t stop me from feeling drawn to him. Though, I didn’t doubt that had a lot to do with the way he looked.

Jessie was tall, much taller than the other 7th graders at my school. His eyes were such a crystal blue they didn’t seem real, they even sparkled when the light caught them right. A few freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose, slightly softening the hard expression his face seemed determined to keep in place. But before I left him alone in his new room, I’d already decided my favourite feature of his were his lips. Rigid and straight, they were much more peachy than pink. When I left him alone closing his door behind me, I squeezed my eyes shut, balled up my fists, and wished really hard that one day I'd get to see what they’d look like smiling. Something sad told me it would take a really long time, but it would be worth the wait.

That night, just before I fell asleep, I wrote Jessie a letter. Using the pretty stationery set Daddy had brought me from the run he went on last month and my mama’s fountain pen. I took my time, making sure all my letters were even in size and sat perfectly on the lines. My words were promises to Jessie, vows that I would take care of him and teach him that he could still love and be loved back, despite all he’d lost.

I sealed the envelope and wrote his name neatly on the front.

Jessie.

I liked his name. It suited him.

Tiptoeing my bare feet across the hall, I stood for a while and stared at his door. Wondered what he was doing on the other side. Silently I prayed that he wasn’t feeling lonely, or worse… crying. His eyes had looked a lot like they wanted to cry earlier, and I wanted so badly to take away the pain he’d tried so hard to hide.

Bringing the letter to my mouth, I pressed a kiss on to the pastel-colored flowers printed on the border of the envelope. Then just before I slipped it beneath the crack of his door, something made me pause. All my confidence suddenly vanished and I felt like a silly little girl.

The boy was one of them, and Dirty Souls don’t want to be loved, they don’t need silly promises like the ones I’d made him in my letter. Straightening myself up slowly, I backed myself away from his door and crept back into my room.

I hid my letter to Jessie in a shoebox that I kept under my bed. It was my safe place where I kept all my precious things, like the Russian banknote Daddy had given me, the dolphin keyring I’d convinced Mama to buy me from SeaWorld—despite her argument that I didn’t own a set of keys—and a really pretty stone I’d found in the backyard. They were my treasures. No one else knew where I kept them because they were special to me, just like the promises I’d made to Jessie in my letter.

Over the next few months, I tried so hard to make the boy feel like he belonged with us. I wanted to heal him of his sadness, so he could be a child and have fun. But despite my hopes and efforts it soon became clear that the boy I wanted so desperately to fix, just saw me as an irritation.

Jessie spent most of the time in his room, alone, and when he did venture out, he ignored me. Mama saw how it made me sad.

“He’s sad baby, he lost his mama a few years ago, and now he’s lost his daddy too. Just give him some time.” She’d tell me. I tried to understand, but it was difficult. Sure, I didn’t see my daddy as often as I’d have liked to, but he was alive, and Mama always made sure she was there for me.

My parents may have shown their love for me in different ways, but I knew it was there. To lose even one of them would be unimaginable. And that was the blissful oblivion that I lived in for the next four years. Something that I took for granted right up till the day the unimaginable happened.

AGED 14

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