Jagged Harts, page 26
I don’t know why the idea of being back there is so debilitating. Like Dax said, the past can’t hurt me. Not anymore. It isn’t like being in the same zip code will suddenly turn me into that weak scared little girl that I used to be. That girl died a long time ago. I’ve grown, I’ve changed. I am strong as hell now and a fucking fighter to the bone.
The thing that terrifies me the most about this trip is that it just serves as a reminder of all of the things that I have yet to share with Dax. It’s selfish and unfair to keep so much emotional baggage from him when he has already got on the ride, but what if he learns the truth and wants to get off? That scares the fucking shit out of me.
I don’t want Dax to look at me like some broken girl. I don’t want him to see me as the trailer park kid. I want him to see me as just Aubrey, his Bree. But if I want a future with him, I know that I have to start opening up to him. I guess it started with admitting that I am from LA. It is more than anyone else could get out of me. That is all just the tip of the iceberg, though. Okay, that’s it. I have made up my mind. I am going to tell Dax everything. I will tell him all of the dirty details of my life and hope to hell that he still loves me by the end of it. Yep. I am going to tell him…soon.
A few hours later, Dax and I are sitting in our seats on the plane, getting ready to take off. Neither of us have ever flown before so I am very nervous, and Dax is doing that thing where he acts like Mr. Cool and Confident but bounces his knee like a toddler on a sugar high.
Once we take off, we both relax a little but the previous dread that I have been feeling ever since Dax got that phone call sets back in. What if I run into someone that I know?
Come on, Aubrey. The city has over 2.5 million people.
I already looked up where we will be staying and where the fight is. We are so far away from Sunny Crest trailer park that we might as well be in another state, thank God.
We land smoothly and make our way to the outside of the airport and hail a taxi, well, I do. Dax is standing in the middle of the damn road looking around seemingly overwhelmed by the amount of people around us. LAX at its finest.
“Dax! You coming or should I go do weigh in for you?” I call out.
He laughs and shakes his head as he jogs over to me. We place our bags into the cab and jump in before we head to our hotel. Dax insisted on paying for my flight and his hotel room was already covered so none of that came out of my pocket, thankfully. I still feel guilty as hell to just tag along like a leech, though. I eventually gave up arguing with him about it around last week. It’s not like I really had the money to blow anyways.
We get up to the room and only have enough time to drop off our stuff before Dax has to change. Weigh in is being held just downstairs so thankfully we don’t have to drive anywhere to make it on time.
Soon we are walking down to the conference room where everything is being held. We don’t say a word until we step into the elevator.
“I am nervous,” Dax says softly under his breath.
He rarely ever acknowledges his nerves, even if I can see them plain as day. I know that there has been a lot of pressure on him lately as more and more attention is focusing on him. But that is just part of the gig, everyone wants to know about the undefeated rook who is absolutely tearing through his opponents.
“This is fucking huge, Bree. I mean, people are recognizing me just by my face. MMA commentators are talking about me. I am fucking fighting a guy that just a few months ago, I used to watch on the TV at home. It’s all a lot. I don’t really know what I am doing.”
Dax really does look nervous. I get that he feels all this pressure to live up to all those big dreams that he has had built up in his head for so long, but I don’t think he understands how much raw talent he actually has. Yeah, he may not win tomorrow against Sanchez, but everyone fucking knows it will be close regardless. Dax will fight with everything he fucking has in that cage. I just can’t let him beat himself before the fight has even started.
“Hey,” I say quickly, stopping him from pulling himself down any further. I grab a hold of the back of his neck with both hands and make his eyes meet mine.
“You need to knock that shit off right the fuck now. I get that you are nervous and that is okay, but you need to remember who you are. You are Dax motherfucking Hart. You are the epitome of cool, calm, collected and cocky as fucking shit. No one and nothing rattles you. You were born to do this. You are a natural and you are going to prove it tomorrow night. But tonight, you focus on three goals. Don’t let the shit talking rile you up, try not to be too much of an asshole to the reporters and make weight.”
He still looks hesitant until I add, “And I will be just to the side, right there with you the whole time. Once we are done, we will go out and have a drink, well, I will. You have to stay all sober and shit, so you get to supervise,” I smirk as he gives me a small smile in return.
I stand on my tip toes and place a soft kiss on his full lips. That seems to help ease some of the tension because when we break apart, he stands a little taller and puts up that impassive mask of his that I am far too familiar with. The elevator doors open, and he struts out with that commanding authority that people absolutely flock to.
Weigh in goes by smoothly. Dax was stoic and intimidating as hell. He gave thoughtful and respectful answers to the reporters while Sanchez talked shit and threw jabs about Dax’s lack of experience every chance that he could. He tried to rattle Dax and it thankfully didn’t work.
The fact that Sanchez even tried to fuck with Dax like he did just proves to me what I already knew, he is worried about Dax. A new fighter that comes through the ranks tearing up guys this fast almost always makes it to a title fight. I am sure that Sanchez had his heart set on taking the title for himself. Commentators have speculated that whoever wins this fight will go on to fight Joseph Bernstein, the current heavyweight champion, for the title. So, the pressure is on for both of them.
As soon as Dax and I are out of the conference room, he lets out a deep breath as I hold his hand tightly. He squeezes it in return while we walk down the street until we find a little dive bar. I practically drag him inside, promising to have him in bed in two hours or less.
We take a seat at a small table in the corner. The place is pretty busy, but it is Friday night in the good part of LA, so what did we expect? Dax orders a beer for me and a seltzer with lime for him, such a chick. We both unwind after the pressure of the day and are talking about the guy that wouldn’t stop snoring next to Dax on the plane when something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye.
I am laughing as my eyes flick over to see what caught my attention. I freeze when I notice at an older yet familiar man not a hundred feet away from us. His head is now shaved, and time hasn’t been kind to him, but the snake neck tattoo tells me that it is him.
All of the color drains from my face as my heart plummets to the sticky bar floor. The familiar man must feel my gaze because he glances over to me, our eyes locking for a few moments before his expression changes from curiosity to a deep sinister grin. It sends chills down my back, and I physically shiver from the effect.
Dax notices my quick change in attitude and turns to see the man I am currently locked in a staring contest with. Dax looks back to me and then back to the man just as the guy gives me a small smile and a wink before he strides out the door with a couple other guys all in matching leather jackets with that familiar patch that is permanently burned into my brain.
I sit there frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe. I briefly considered the possibility of running into someone I knew. I never would have imagined that I would run into him. I haven’t seen him in seven years, but he is the monster that has haunted my dreams ever since.
“Bree? Did you know that guy?” Dax asks, breaking me out of my trance momentarily. I numbly nod my head up and down, but I don’t speak. I don’t think that I physically can.
“Who is he?” He asks.
I turn to face Dax as my vision begins to blur with the burning tears that are brimming in my eyes. I don’t answer, I just stare at him. I don’t even know how to explain how I know that man. This was a part of my past that was never going to be up for discussion. Everything but this. Not this.
Dax is immediately concerned by the look on my face as he reaches out a hand to cup my cheek.
“Are you okay?”
I shake my head no and he quickly pulls out a couple of 20’s, throwing them onto the table before pulling me into his side and walking us out of the bar. His arm is wrapped protectively around me as his eyes scour the streets as if he is looking for him. Good luck. Dax will never find him. He is a shadow, a ghost. You’ll never be able to find him, not unless he wants to be found and if he does, then you are already dead.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
AUBREY
We make it back to our hotel room in complete silence. As soon as we step through the door, I crawl into the bed jeans and all before I curl my legs up against my chest. I close my eyes tightly, desperately trying to convince myself that this is all just a bad dream, that I am not really in the same city as that monster, the same city block.
“Baby,” Dax says, crouching in front of me. “Talk to me, you are scaring the shit out of me.”
My eyes slowly open but I don’t say anything. I just stare at him and blink.
“How do you know that guy?” Dax asks.
I blink again.
“Baby, please,” he begs, his emerald eyes clouded with concern.
I let out a strangled breath and shake my head.
“Dax, you have one of the biggest fights of your life tomorrow. You need to get your sleep and this story is too heavy and too long,” my rough voice cracks as I speak, quickly folding under the mounting fear I feel deep in my bones.
“I don’t give a shit about the fight. You are my number one priority, always.”
His eyes shine with so much sincerity that I have to close my eyes again. Fuck. I take a deep breath and realize that the big man upstairs must have decided that today is the day that I come clean. Here goes everything, I guess.
“I grew up in a shitty run-down trailer park on the other side of the city. My mom is probably still there. My mom has always been a party girl, but she came from a decent home. One night she hooked up with a couple of guys at a party and found out she was pregnant a few weeks later. She wasn’t even sure who the father was and of course none of them wanted a thing to do with her after that night. Her parents kicked her out when she told them she was pregnant, so she was left at 17 years old homeless with a baby on the way and no fucking clue how to live her own life let alone raise another.
“We lived in a beat up one-bedroom single wide trailer. She said that the move to Sunny Crest was meant to be temporary but working double sometimes triple shifts got tiring for a teenager with a baby. She got into drugs when I was about 4 and soon realized that she could make more money having sex than working all day at the diner. Our trailer quickly became a revolving door of clients. Some of them were fine enough…some weren’t.
“Darryl Jones, the guy at the bar, was one of mom’s regulars for a couple years.” I pause for a second to try to keep my voice from shaking but the emotion clogging my throat is so thick it is hard to choke back.
“I would sleep on the couch most nights since mom usually ‘took care of business’ in the bedroom. When Darryl first started coming around he didn’t pay me too much attention. But the older I got the longer he would linger in the living room after he was done with my mom. When I was 11, he started sitting next to me for a while, he would tell me how pretty I was and most of the time we would end up watching a movie together even though he scared the living shit out of me. It wasn’t long before the movies no longer held his attention, and he would t-touch me.”
I stop for a moment to catch my breath and look to see Dax’s reaction so far. Instead of the expected disdain or revulsion all I see is compassion and heartache. He squeezes my hand gently, silently urging me to continue.
“I was young, scared, weak. I told my mom about it, but she didn’t care. She told me not to do anything to upset her best paying client so I quickly learned that she wouldn’t help me. I was just a kid. I didn’t know where else to turn. I was taught from a very young age that all bringing the cops around does is cause trouble. Even at 11 I knew better than to include them especially with Darryl Jones involved. When I knew him he was the roadmaster for the Snakebacks MC. He was powerful, untouchable and dangerous as fuck.
“Every night I would close my eyes and just hope that it would be over soon, I hated being so powerless but what could I do, you know? A few times I tried to fight back or push him away. He didn’t like that, and I paid for my disrespect in blood and bruises. I quickly learned that if I just shut down, it would end faster than trying to resist.”
My breath becomes choppy as I continue.
“Until one night when I was 12. When Darry came out to me he didn’t even try to put on a movie. He went straight for my pajama bottoms. He told me that my mother was old and used up. I tried to push him away, to stop him, but he was too strong. He…he…” I swallow roughly and shake my head as I lower my voice to a whisper. “That was the first time that he done that to me.”
I know that I don’t have to explain to him what I mean, the wince that he gives me is indication enough that he understands.
“When it was finally over and he left, I ran. I was bleeding so much, and I was fucking terrified. I was terrified of him. I was terrified that it would happen again. I was terrified that that was all my life would ever be. So, I just…ran. I kept going until I hunkered down against the side of a building a few miles away. I was only wearing a baggy sleep shirt that was slightly torn from my struggling and it began to rain. I knew that it was unusually cold that night, but I felt nothing. I was just numb.
“After a little while, a man came out of a door a few feet away from me. I was so fucking scared that I fell on my ass before I scrambled to my feet and attempted to hide like an injured animal. I didn’t know who he was or what he was going to do to me. All I knew was that I couldn’t let him do what Darryl just did. I knew even then that I wouldn’t survive it a second time. The man seemed confused at first until he saw my torn shirt, the blood trickling down my bare thighs and the general look of terror that was in my eyes.”
I shake my head and close my eyes as I feel several large tears stream down my cheeks. I have never shared this story with anyone, ever. It is just as painful as I thought it would be. Fuck.
“It was an MMA gym,” I let out a dry laugh as I shake my head. “Of course, right? I stumbled upon an MMA gym during fight night and the owner, Gary, came out thinking that I was a druggie or something. When I told him how old I was he cursed under his breath and asked if I had anywhere safe to stay the night. I told him no and he brought me inside, after a fuck ton of coercing. I wasn’t exactly in a trusting mood, but he was very kind and spoke very softly to me.
“He made sure that he kept a good amount of distance from me at all times, gave me a fresh t-shirt and some way too big sweatpants and even got one of the fighters’ girlfriends to sit with me while fight night carried on. As odd as it sounded, I wanted to be around people. I didn’t want to sit in a quiet room that I didn’t know. I wanted the noise, I needed it.
“I sat there for what felt like hours as I numbly watched people beat the living shit out of each other. Some were fighting out of rage, some out of fear, but to all it was a release, an escape. I wanted that. I wanted to escape, to feel powerful, to feel free.
“Gary let me sleep on the pull-out couch in his office that night and even gave me some left-over pizza. The next morning when I woke up, him and some of the guys were already training. I hung around for a bit and they even stopped what they were doing to show me a few basic self-defense moves. When I knew I couldn’t stay there any longer, Gary and the guys offered to train me for free. I just had to take it seriously and show up on time every day.
“For three weeks, I showed up every day right on time. I learned a lot in such a short amount of time and even started becoming friends with a lot of them. They took me in when I needed help, let me join their family. Some of the other fighters weren’t too much older than me at the time which was nice to have some people that were relatable at least in age. No one actually knew what happened to me. Obviously they came to their own conclusions but at the end of the day they all knew that I just needed help.”
I cringe and my stomach sours as I think about the next thing that happened. Fuck, it may have been seven years, but it feels like it has been seven minutes. I remember everything…vividly.
“One day I didn’t make it, though. I was late for school and stupidly forgot my change of clothes at home. So, after school I tried to sneak into the trailer and grab my stuff quickly before slipping back out. Of course, who do I find sitting on the couch, almost like he was waiting for me?” I ask dryly as Dax clenches his jaw, a white-hot fire burning in his eyes as he waits for me to continue.
“He grabbed me by the throat instantly. My mind panicked for a moment. I froze under his touch, petrified with fear. Then a thought came to me, I did the first thing that the guys told me to always do if you are out matched. I grabbed the closest thing to me to use as a weapon which happened to be a glass ashtray and hit him over the head with it. I thought it would be enough to get away from him so that I could run. Unfortunately for me he recovered too quickly and had tackled me to the ground almost instantly. He was so mad, he just started raining punches down on me. I tried to fight, to use the skills that the guys had taught me, but I was only into the basics at that point. I basically only knew how to throw some simple jabs and block, obviously not well enough, though.
“When I felt him tear my jeans off, I felt like I was going to die. I wanted to if it meant that I didn’t have to live through that again. I fought, bit and scratched with everything I had but it wasn’t enough. He was…in…me and I eventually just shut down. I felt so defeated, so broken. I stared at the front door, wishing there was a way that I could get to it but knowing that I wasn’t that lucky.
The thing that terrifies me the most about this trip is that it just serves as a reminder of all of the things that I have yet to share with Dax. It’s selfish and unfair to keep so much emotional baggage from him when he has already got on the ride, but what if he learns the truth and wants to get off? That scares the fucking shit out of me.
I don’t want Dax to look at me like some broken girl. I don’t want him to see me as the trailer park kid. I want him to see me as just Aubrey, his Bree. But if I want a future with him, I know that I have to start opening up to him. I guess it started with admitting that I am from LA. It is more than anyone else could get out of me. That is all just the tip of the iceberg, though. Okay, that’s it. I have made up my mind. I am going to tell Dax everything. I will tell him all of the dirty details of my life and hope to hell that he still loves me by the end of it. Yep. I am going to tell him…soon.
A few hours later, Dax and I are sitting in our seats on the plane, getting ready to take off. Neither of us have ever flown before so I am very nervous, and Dax is doing that thing where he acts like Mr. Cool and Confident but bounces his knee like a toddler on a sugar high.
Once we take off, we both relax a little but the previous dread that I have been feeling ever since Dax got that phone call sets back in. What if I run into someone that I know?
Come on, Aubrey. The city has over 2.5 million people.
I already looked up where we will be staying and where the fight is. We are so far away from Sunny Crest trailer park that we might as well be in another state, thank God.
We land smoothly and make our way to the outside of the airport and hail a taxi, well, I do. Dax is standing in the middle of the damn road looking around seemingly overwhelmed by the amount of people around us. LAX at its finest.
“Dax! You coming or should I go do weigh in for you?” I call out.
He laughs and shakes his head as he jogs over to me. We place our bags into the cab and jump in before we head to our hotel. Dax insisted on paying for my flight and his hotel room was already covered so none of that came out of my pocket, thankfully. I still feel guilty as hell to just tag along like a leech, though. I eventually gave up arguing with him about it around last week. It’s not like I really had the money to blow anyways.
We get up to the room and only have enough time to drop off our stuff before Dax has to change. Weigh in is being held just downstairs so thankfully we don’t have to drive anywhere to make it on time.
Soon we are walking down to the conference room where everything is being held. We don’t say a word until we step into the elevator.
“I am nervous,” Dax says softly under his breath.
He rarely ever acknowledges his nerves, even if I can see them plain as day. I know that there has been a lot of pressure on him lately as more and more attention is focusing on him. But that is just part of the gig, everyone wants to know about the undefeated rook who is absolutely tearing through his opponents.
“This is fucking huge, Bree. I mean, people are recognizing me just by my face. MMA commentators are talking about me. I am fucking fighting a guy that just a few months ago, I used to watch on the TV at home. It’s all a lot. I don’t really know what I am doing.”
Dax really does look nervous. I get that he feels all this pressure to live up to all those big dreams that he has had built up in his head for so long, but I don’t think he understands how much raw talent he actually has. Yeah, he may not win tomorrow against Sanchez, but everyone fucking knows it will be close regardless. Dax will fight with everything he fucking has in that cage. I just can’t let him beat himself before the fight has even started.
“Hey,” I say quickly, stopping him from pulling himself down any further. I grab a hold of the back of his neck with both hands and make his eyes meet mine.
“You need to knock that shit off right the fuck now. I get that you are nervous and that is okay, but you need to remember who you are. You are Dax motherfucking Hart. You are the epitome of cool, calm, collected and cocky as fucking shit. No one and nothing rattles you. You were born to do this. You are a natural and you are going to prove it tomorrow night. But tonight, you focus on three goals. Don’t let the shit talking rile you up, try not to be too much of an asshole to the reporters and make weight.”
He still looks hesitant until I add, “And I will be just to the side, right there with you the whole time. Once we are done, we will go out and have a drink, well, I will. You have to stay all sober and shit, so you get to supervise,” I smirk as he gives me a small smile in return.
I stand on my tip toes and place a soft kiss on his full lips. That seems to help ease some of the tension because when we break apart, he stands a little taller and puts up that impassive mask of his that I am far too familiar with. The elevator doors open, and he struts out with that commanding authority that people absolutely flock to.
Weigh in goes by smoothly. Dax was stoic and intimidating as hell. He gave thoughtful and respectful answers to the reporters while Sanchez talked shit and threw jabs about Dax’s lack of experience every chance that he could. He tried to rattle Dax and it thankfully didn’t work.
The fact that Sanchez even tried to fuck with Dax like he did just proves to me what I already knew, he is worried about Dax. A new fighter that comes through the ranks tearing up guys this fast almost always makes it to a title fight. I am sure that Sanchez had his heart set on taking the title for himself. Commentators have speculated that whoever wins this fight will go on to fight Joseph Bernstein, the current heavyweight champion, for the title. So, the pressure is on for both of them.
As soon as Dax and I are out of the conference room, he lets out a deep breath as I hold his hand tightly. He squeezes it in return while we walk down the street until we find a little dive bar. I practically drag him inside, promising to have him in bed in two hours or less.
We take a seat at a small table in the corner. The place is pretty busy, but it is Friday night in the good part of LA, so what did we expect? Dax orders a beer for me and a seltzer with lime for him, such a chick. We both unwind after the pressure of the day and are talking about the guy that wouldn’t stop snoring next to Dax on the plane when something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye.
I am laughing as my eyes flick over to see what caught my attention. I freeze when I notice at an older yet familiar man not a hundred feet away from us. His head is now shaved, and time hasn’t been kind to him, but the snake neck tattoo tells me that it is him.
All of the color drains from my face as my heart plummets to the sticky bar floor. The familiar man must feel my gaze because he glances over to me, our eyes locking for a few moments before his expression changes from curiosity to a deep sinister grin. It sends chills down my back, and I physically shiver from the effect.
Dax notices my quick change in attitude and turns to see the man I am currently locked in a staring contest with. Dax looks back to me and then back to the man just as the guy gives me a small smile and a wink before he strides out the door with a couple other guys all in matching leather jackets with that familiar patch that is permanently burned into my brain.
I sit there frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe. I briefly considered the possibility of running into someone I knew. I never would have imagined that I would run into him. I haven’t seen him in seven years, but he is the monster that has haunted my dreams ever since.
“Bree? Did you know that guy?” Dax asks, breaking me out of my trance momentarily. I numbly nod my head up and down, but I don’t speak. I don’t think that I physically can.
“Who is he?” He asks.
I turn to face Dax as my vision begins to blur with the burning tears that are brimming in my eyes. I don’t answer, I just stare at him. I don’t even know how to explain how I know that man. This was a part of my past that was never going to be up for discussion. Everything but this. Not this.
Dax is immediately concerned by the look on my face as he reaches out a hand to cup my cheek.
“Are you okay?”
I shake my head no and he quickly pulls out a couple of 20’s, throwing them onto the table before pulling me into his side and walking us out of the bar. His arm is wrapped protectively around me as his eyes scour the streets as if he is looking for him. Good luck. Dax will never find him. He is a shadow, a ghost. You’ll never be able to find him, not unless he wants to be found and if he does, then you are already dead.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
AUBREY
We make it back to our hotel room in complete silence. As soon as we step through the door, I crawl into the bed jeans and all before I curl my legs up against my chest. I close my eyes tightly, desperately trying to convince myself that this is all just a bad dream, that I am not really in the same city as that monster, the same city block.
“Baby,” Dax says, crouching in front of me. “Talk to me, you are scaring the shit out of me.”
My eyes slowly open but I don’t say anything. I just stare at him and blink.
“How do you know that guy?” Dax asks.
I blink again.
“Baby, please,” he begs, his emerald eyes clouded with concern.
I let out a strangled breath and shake my head.
“Dax, you have one of the biggest fights of your life tomorrow. You need to get your sleep and this story is too heavy and too long,” my rough voice cracks as I speak, quickly folding under the mounting fear I feel deep in my bones.
“I don’t give a shit about the fight. You are my number one priority, always.”
His eyes shine with so much sincerity that I have to close my eyes again. Fuck. I take a deep breath and realize that the big man upstairs must have decided that today is the day that I come clean. Here goes everything, I guess.
“I grew up in a shitty run-down trailer park on the other side of the city. My mom is probably still there. My mom has always been a party girl, but she came from a decent home. One night she hooked up with a couple of guys at a party and found out she was pregnant a few weeks later. She wasn’t even sure who the father was and of course none of them wanted a thing to do with her after that night. Her parents kicked her out when she told them she was pregnant, so she was left at 17 years old homeless with a baby on the way and no fucking clue how to live her own life let alone raise another.
“We lived in a beat up one-bedroom single wide trailer. She said that the move to Sunny Crest was meant to be temporary but working double sometimes triple shifts got tiring for a teenager with a baby. She got into drugs when I was about 4 and soon realized that she could make more money having sex than working all day at the diner. Our trailer quickly became a revolving door of clients. Some of them were fine enough…some weren’t.
“Darryl Jones, the guy at the bar, was one of mom’s regulars for a couple years.” I pause for a second to try to keep my voice from shaking but the emotion clogging my throat is so thick it is hard to choke back.
“I would sleep on the couch most nights since mom usually ‘took care of business’ in the bedroom. When Darryl first started coming around he didn’t pay me too much attention. But the older I got the longer he would linger in the living room after he was done with my mom. When I was 11, he started sitting next to me for a while, he would tell me how pretty I was and most of the time we would end up watching a movie together even though he scared the living shit out of me. It wasn’t long before the movies no longer held his attention, and he would t-touch me.”
I stop for a moment to catch my breath and look to see Dax’s reaction so far. Instead of the expected disdain or revulsion all I see is compassion and heartache. He squeezes my hand gently, silently urging me to continue.
“I was young, scared, weak. I told my mom about it, but she didn’t care. She told me not to do anything to upset her best paying client so I quickly learned that she wouldn’t help me. I was just a kid. I didn’t know where else to turn. I was taught from a very young age that all bringing the cops around does is cause trouble. Even at 11 I knew better than to include them especially with Darryl Jones involved. When I knew him he was the roadmaster for the Snakebacks MC. He was powerful, untouchable and dangerous as fuck.
“Every night I would close my eyes and just hope that it would be over soon, I hated being so powerless but what could I do, you know? A few times I tried to fight back or push him away. He didn’t like that, and I paid for my disrespect in blood and bruises. I quickly learned that if I just shut down, it would end faster than trying to resist.”
My breath becomes choppy as I continue.
“Until one night when I was 12. When Darry came out to me he didn’t even try to put on a movie. He went straight for my pajama bottoms. He told me that my mother was old and used up. I tried to push him away, to stop him, but he was too strong. He…he…” I swallow roughly and shake my head as I lower my voice to a whisper. “That was the first time that he done that to me.”
I know that I don’t have to explain to him what I mean, the wince that he gives me is indication enough that he understands.
“When it was finally over and he left, I ran. I was bleeding so much, and I was fucking terrified. I was terrified of him. I was terrified that it would happen again. I was terrified that that was all my life would ever be. So, I just…ran. I kept going until I hunkered down against the side of a building a few miles away. I was only wearing a baggy sleep shirt that was slightly torn from my struggling and it began to rain. I knew that it was unusually cold that night, but I felt nothing. I was just numb.
“After a little while, a man came out of a door a few feet away from me. I was so fucking scared that I fell on my ass before I scrambled to my feet and attempted to hide like an injured animal. I didn’t know who he was or what he was going to do to me. All I knew was that I couldn’t let him do what Darryl just did. I knew even then that I wouldn’t survive it a second time. The man seemed confused at first until he saw my torn shirt, the blood trickling down my bare thighs and the general look of terror that was in my eyes.”
I shake my head and close my eyes as I feel several large tears stream down my cheeks. I have never shared this story with anyone, ever. It is just as painful as I thought it would be. Fuck.
“It was an MMA gym,” I let out a dry laugh as I shake my head. “Of course, right? I stumbled upon an MMA gym during fight night and the owner, Gary, came out thinking that I was a druggie or something. When I told him how old I was he cursed under his breath and asked if I had anywhere safe to stay the night. I told him no and he brought me inside, after a fuck ton of coercing. I wasn’t exactly in a trusting mood, but he was very kind and spoke very softly to me.
“He made sure that he kept a good amount of distance from me at all times, gave me a fresh t-shirt and some way too big sweatpants and even got one of the fighters’ girlfriends to sit with me while fight night carried on. As odd as it sounded, I wanted to be around people. I didn’t want to sit in a quiet room that I didn’t know. I wanted the noise, I needed it.
“I sat there for what felt like hours as I numbly watched people beat the living shit out of each other. Some were fighting out of rage, some out of fear, but to all it was a release, an escape. I wanted that. I wanted to escape, to feel powerful, to feel free.
“Gary let me sleep on the pull-out couch in his office that night and even gave me some left-over pizza. The next morning when I woke up, him and some of the guys were already training. I hung around for a bit and they even stopped what they were doing to show me a few basic self-defense moves. When I knew I couldn’t stay there any longer, Gary and the guys offered to train me for free. I just had to take it seriously and show up on time every day.
“For three weeks, I showed up every day right on time. I learned a lot in such a short amount of time and even started becoming friends with a lot of them. They took me in when I needed help, let me join their family. Some of the other fighters weren’t too much older than me at the time which was nice to have some people that were relatable at least in age. No one actually knew what happened to me. Obviously they came to their own conclusions but at the end of the day they all knew that I just needed help.”
I cringe and my stomach sours as I think about the next thing that happened. Fuck, it may have been seven years, but it feels like it has been seven minutes. I remember everything…vividly.
“One day I didn’t make it, though. I was late for school and stupidly forgot my change of clothes at home. So, after school I tried to sneak into the trailer and grab my stuff quickly before slipping back out. Of course, who do I find sitting on the couch, almost like he was waiting for me?” I ask dryly as Dax clenches his jaw, a white-hot fire burning in his eyes as he waits for me to continue.
“He grabbed me by the throat instantly. My mind panicked for a moment. I froze under his touch, petrified with fear. Then a thought came to me, I did the first thing that the guys told me to always do if you are out matched. I grabbed the closest thing to me to use as a weapon which happened to be a glass ashtray and hit him over the head with it. I thought it would be enough to get away from him so that I could run. Unfortunately for me he recovered too quickly and had tackled me to the ground almost instantly. He was so mad, he just started raining punches down on me. I tried to fight, to use the skills that the guys had taught me, but I was only into the basics at that point. I basically only knew how to throw some simple jabs and block, obviously not well enough, though.
“When I felt him tear my jeans off, I felt like I was going to die. I wanted to if it meant that I didn’t have to live through that again. I fought, bit and scratched with everything I had but it wasn’t enough. He was…in…me and I eventually just shut down. I felt so defeated, so broken. I stared at the front door, wishing there was a way that I could get to it but knowing that I wasn’t that lucky.
