Recluse Protection

Chapter 31

Adjusting the dress I stare in the mirror, hollow. I'm dead inside, numb at this point. I don't see any reason not to be, this is a nightmare; it's only gotten worse. Walking on eggshells is exhausting, I'm always on nerves, waiting for the blade to fall, slam to the hilt, ending it all. Someone is going to die. It's likely I'm going to be the one laying at the bottom of the grave. I should be the only one dead. Not Bear. Not Gears. Me. The white floral sundress hangs off my frame, cinched to my waist to flare over my hips. The epitome of a female.

It softens my features, adds grace to my form, and makes me look feminine. Like I'm vulnerable for abuse. My hair is curled softly, two small pieces pulled back from the crown, adds to the delicacy of my appearance. I make the perfect victim. In this outfit I feel like I'm weighed down by chains, bound by my past. Standing straight with my shoulders back proud is impossible. I'm broken. I'd like to believe that they didn't break me; that I'm some sort of phoenix that has risen from the ashes of my old self. It's a lie.

All of this has been a lie. I've been broken for years, I always have. The cold glare I have mastered over the years is nowhere to be found, it vanished the second I donned this dress, curled my hair and added makeup. The heels are still left to put on, I know in another moment I'll shrink back to that young girl, used to the pain, the abuse and torture. My chest burns painfully, aware of my thoughts, of the betrayal to that little girl I promised she'd never be hurt again. I can't even be honest with myself. Swallowing harshly, I bend down and pull on the shoes, completing the outfit.

The knife is driven into my chest, twisted painfully for added pain. I deserve the pain, I earned it. No matter how much I tell myself this is for Timothy, to protect him. I don't think I believe that anymore. A simple dinner date is going to tear what little sanity I have left about this shit. As if I had much left; all of this is mounting, intertwining in ways I never could've imagined. This is family that stabbed me. Not just me, but murdered Bear and Gears, killed them selfishly to protect their own skin. They killed them to keep their cloak of invisibility on, hidden from judgement.

Judgement day is coming, their blood is going to spill. I forced myself to get angry, I need to feel something other than pity. Bowing down to the little girl isn't going to make me victorious. I'm fine letting myself down, I always expect that; I refuse to let down Bear and Gears. They saved me, they deserve vengeance, they deserve to rest peacefully. I'm going to make it happen. Taking a breath, I force my shoulders back as determination settles in my eyes. The pity party can wait.

Right now, it's important that I focus on saving the club, not dying and getting too deep with Hunter. Sounds easy. Sarcasm drips from the thought as I shake my head, sitting on the bed in the room, I practice my breathing. Collect yourself, don't falter, not now. There is too much riding on me to falter, crack under pressure and wither to the ground waiting for my next beating. The pressure from the club and the pressure from undercover is pinning me in a hard place, forcing me back, trying to break me.

You can't break something that's already broken. I may be destroyed, broken to the world, but I've built myself stronger, grown from my demons. The demons that spent years beating me, didn't break me down the way they wanted. I played their game better than they ever could. This is no different. It's all a game. I like games. This will end no differently, I'll wait and watch, see their moves, watch their fuck ups before I strike, driving the blade in swinging, slicing them to fucking bits.

There's a knock on the door, forcing me to school my features as I stand and walk to the door, pulling it open to stare at Cobra. His eyes trace my form, scanning my appearance before nodding towards the door. "Can I come in?" I give a jerky nod, stepping aside as I glance around, scanning the empty halls. Shutting the door behind him I watch him, staring at him silently.