Ace: His Angel (Phoenix Riders MC 1)

26: Kitchen Encounters

***Trigger warning: Self-harm***

Kaitlyn POV

Everyone headed to bed, but I needed food to sober up. I turned on the kitchen lights and headed for the fridge. Pulling the door, it didn't open. What the...why?! Frustrated, I tried again, but it didn't budge. I rested my head against the cool steel before pulling away, and I saw a hand holding the fridge shut.

What the fuck?!

"Struggling?" they asked. "Let me help you get to bed, and I'll get you a snack after."

That voice. I despise that voice.

Turning around, I came face-to-face with the prospect. He stood inches from me, making me uncomfortable. I ducked under his arms and headed upstairs without answering him. However, the alcohol hit me, causing a dizzy spell, before I made it up. Hands held me upright, leading me upstairs to Aces' room. I was too tired and far gone to stop him from helping me.

The prospect helped me safely get to the room, and I thought he would leave, but it's never that simple with him. Over the last few weeks, he jumped at every opportunity to help someone, going the "extra mile" and strengthening his ties to the club. But that was the last thing I wanted, and I didn't know how to tell Kyle.

I barely noticed him taking off my shoes and taking my hair out of its bun. But when he reached for my shirt, I snapped out of it, panicking. Kicking his stomach, I moved to the corner with shaky legs.

He shouldn't be here. Ace is supposed to be here, not him!

"I wasn't trying to do anything. I know you hate sleeping in shirts. Let me help you, and I'll leave," he said calmly.

"Help me! The last thing I want from you while I'm in this state," I cried out.

I beat him to the door and headed down the hall towards an empty room, slamming the door behind me. Footsteps stopped outside and waited, but after a few minutes, his footsteps faded down the hall, and I let out my breath.

I hate being drunk. That's why you don't drink, Kaitlyn.

The dark rabbit hole I travel down when I'm drunk sends me spiraling. Unwanted memories came flooding back. Unable to block them, I lost control of my breathing, and anxiety took hold of me. Tonight has turned into a nightmare, and if I don't get my wandering mind under control soon, I will end up in a cold shower again. Which I'd rather avoid at all costs.

I went down to the kitchen again, and looked in the fridge, but found nothing appetizing. Seeing an apple on the counter, I grabbed it, some water, and a knife. Sitting on the kitchen floor, I cut pieces of the apple and nibbled at it. The longer I sat in the silence, the more it pulled me towards its dangerous path.

Closing my eyes, I whispered, "Don't go there, not tonight."

But the voices in my head pushed me further down the rabbit hole. Reminding me why I drank and how easy it would be to give in completely. Let my demons have their way with me because I'm tired of hiding them. I'm tired of caring.

Opening my eyes, I saw blood dripping from my hand, and down my arm, as the knife blade pierced my hand. I didn't feel it happen, and honestly, I couldn't feel anything, which I love. To not feel.

Dropping the apple, I stared at the blood-stained knife. I'd never cut before, but I understood the desire. Pulling off my shirt, I stared at my scared body. I never wanted to be one of "those girls" who did it for the attention. That's what stopped me before. However, my desire to release pain, or stop the pain for good, never faded.

That was before. Before I saw the prospect here, and realized everyone loved him. Including my brother. Before memories of what happened came flooding back. No one sees who I am underneath it all. The manipulation and lies he tells the club. Idiots.

Looking down at my hips, I placed the blade against my skin.

Cold. Numbing.

No one needs to know how messed up I am, or why I'm this way. They'll never see it. The ease with which the blade drew blood surprised me, but it didn't stop me or stop the blood from pooling around me. Blood thinners cause me to bleed faster...the only good thing to come from my heart condition.

It all stopped. The memories, the voices, all of it stopped.

I lost count of the cuts and time, but heard someone in the doorway. Tiny.

"Hey Tiger," he said calmly, moving towards me. "What are you doing here?"

I knew what he was doing, trying to talk me off a dangerous ledge. Something I've done to others, but it won't work on me. Taking the tip of the knife, I pushed it against my side, wanting him to leave me alone. Everyone else had, or everyone who mattered to me.

He stopped in his tracks.

"This is the real me. No one needs to know about it, and I don't want them to," I said in a shaken, sloppy voice, tears flowing.

"I wasn't always like this b-but... after what he did to me, and...and I can't change it. The memories won't go away! Ace and my brother don't need to know. It can be our secret," I whispered, curling myself into a ball.

Tiny finally took the knife from my trembling and weak hand as I lay on the kitchen floor, letting my blood run out.

"What the Fuck!" someone yelled. Scared, I stood on trembling legs, hiding further in the kitchen.

Tiny and I stared at the prospect standing in the doorway. He tried to come in, but Tiny blocked his path. "I suggest you turn around and leave before I tell Killer how far out of line you are as a prospect. Learn your place. Now, get the fuck out," Tiny warned, scaring me further away and the prospect away, leaving Tiny and me alone.

I swayed, light-headed from the amount of blood loss, but Tiny caught me before I hit the floor. He picked me up and held me to his chest while pulling out his phone to make a call. Tears spilled, knowing who he was calling, wishing I used the knife to its fullest extent, scared of what I will face when I woke up.

This was all my fault. This was not supposed to happen.