Page 156 of Thor & Dragon

“Sometimes I talk to Dad or Uncle Bear about what I’m feeling. Other times Sasha. I’d also spar or throw knives to relieve pent-up frustrations.”

I pause and get up, grabbing my backpack that I’d dumped on the empty bed earlier and bring it back over, sitting it on my lap. I pull out my two notebooks, one with a black cover and one with a blue cover, as well as a pack of colorful pens. Taking a deep breath, I hand him my journals.

“I also keep two journals, and I always have a stack of each color for when I fill one up. The blue one is my everyday journal to chart how I’m feeling. I use whichever color pen strikes my fancy but never black or red for the lengthy daily journal entries.

“On days that are exceptionally hard, I make a note, like this one,” I say as I point down to a day that has a note written in red in my daily journal. “If I feel like I’m in a really dark place, I’ll make a note like that in either black or red ink that says I used the black journal today. That’s how I track how frequently I use it. I only use black or red pens for the black journal.

“In the black journal, I write everything down that I’m feeling. Times where it seems like I’m caught in the clutches of darkness and trying to claw my way out. I would write out every dark, and often torturous, action I’d do to my captors. When I found myself crawling out of that dark hole, I’d go out back to our firepit and light a fire. Then I’d rip out those pages and tear them up before rolling them into little balls and throwing them into the fire. Letting the fire burn away my hateful and gruesome thoughts.

“At first, the time periods between needing to write in the black journal were usually pretty frequent. Dad had heard of a saying that some therapists use with their patients to gauge how they’re doing. He’d ask me ‘how long?’. Meaning how long has it been since I felt the urge to write in the black journal and I’d always answer truthfully. Over time, the time periods between using the black journal and burning the pages lengthened. Eventually, I’ll burn the blue ones too when I feel I’m in a good place to put it all behind me.”

He’s silent as he flips through the pages, not reading, but seeing how much I’d written in each one already.

“Can you bring me some notebooks? I’d like to try it.”

I give him a small smile as I reach back into my backpack and pull out four notebooks, two black and two blue ones, as well as another stack of colorful pens. I put everything on the table next to us.

“I wasn’t sure if you would want to try it, but I brought some just in case.”

Even though he has my journals, he looks up at me, tears in his eyes. “How long?”

I give him a sad smile and answer truthfully. “Ten hours, and it’s only that long because I was asleep for most of it. Do you feel the urge to use the black one?”

He nods, his hands tightening around my journals. I hold my hand out for my journals and then hand him new blue and black journals, as well as the pens.

“When you’re out of here, we’ll have a bonfire where you can burn your pages if you want.”

“I’d like that,” he says as he takes out a blue and red pen.

He writes something in the blue notebook, first with the blue pen and then the red before he switches to the black notebook and continues writing in red.

I sit back in my chair, opening my black journal, and we both sit there in silence as we write.

I blink as I come out of my thoughts and look around. My cheeks heat when I notice everyone’s waiting on me. Even the guys that rode their bikes.

“Get that look off your face, Wildcat. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’ll take time before these feelings fade and pass. How long?”

They’d taken to using Dad’s saying too once I told them about it. My face heats again, but I answer honestly.

“Three hours.”

Thor reaches over the console and squeezes my hand. Dragon gently squeezes my shoulder. They know the closer we get to our meeting, the more I’ve been having these thoughts. The need to make them hurt for what they did to us and, I’m sure, countless others.

Taking a deep breath, I nod. “Let’s go bust Andre out of here. I know he wants to be under the sun again and breathe fresh air.”

Climbing out of Thor’s new truck, we head into the hospital, waving to some nurses that we’ve come to know over the past few weeks.

Walking into Andre’s room, he’s already dressed, and I can tell he’s itching to get out of here. He’s already got his cut on and I’m itching to wear mine again. I feel naked without it.

“Ready to bust out of here, Andre?”

He laughs, but I don’t miss his slight wince. “More than ready, Half-pint. I’m going crazy about not being in a clubhouse. I need to get out of these four white walls.”

I chuckle at his exasperated face but completely get it. He’s used to being the man in charge and I worry how much it’s gonna affect him since he won’t be able to ride his bike for a while.

Walking over to him, I give him a gentle hug, which he returns.

“I’ve got your favorite meal planned for tonight.”

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