Breaking Cannon

30.

Maddox POV

I fucked up.

I fucked up big time.

The anger rolling off of Cannon as he practically drags me towards the house by my wrist.

Jesus, I really hope this is a fun punishment and not a bad one.

Whore.

Slut.

He storms into our room and slams the door.

He paces while taking a few deep breaths.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" He growls, his tone dangerous and low.

"What do you mean? I'm sorry was it fucking Casper the friendly ghost who told me to lean into this anger?" I take a step forward.

"Tell me, Cannon, did you take your anger out in a safe, healthy manner?"

He stares at me with dark, angry eyes. I can feel the anger pouring off of him in waves.

This isn't fun anger. This is scary anger. I have to focus on my breathing to tamper down the panic.

"You didn't even tell me. It's my job to keep you safe. He could've gotten loose! He could've hurt and much worse." He yells.

"I'm not your damn pet! I'll do what I want, when I want and tell you after the fact. I already got away from one abusive and controlling man, I'm not about to get with another." I seethe. My grey eyes conveying just how pissed I am.

His breathing grows heavy and his jaw clenches. All the sudden I see his fist fly towards me and I drop like a sack of rocks. His fist flies into the wall by my head, splintering it.

All of the sudden, it's not Cannon throwing a punch. It's my dad. It's Dillon. All the times my dad beat us come rushing forward. The time we didn't come home right away, the numerous times I mouthed off. Him beating my mother to death.

My breath comes out in ragged spurts and my vision goes blurry. I cover my head with my hands as I feel myself spiral.

"Fuck. Baby? I'm so sorry." He bends down and tries to touch me. I stand up and push him off.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch me." I growl out, looking him dead in the eyes.

I see hurt flash across them as he dips his head. I throw open the door and run to my old room.

I pass Calen on the way.

"Mads? What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

Fuck I didn't even know I was. I push past him and slam my door, locking it behind me. I slide down the door and curl into a ball, leaning against it. Calen knocks for a while but I don't hear anything he says.

Richard hitting you. Him killing mom. The whip. Dillon. His hands on you. Jax's blood on the ground.

The flood gates seem to open as I'm slammed with memories.

"Mads? Baby?" Cannons voice sounds outside the door.

"You don't have to talk to me. I understand. I'll just be out here."

I here rustling and know that he's sitting outside the door.

"I'm so sorry. I love you."

I know it's fucked but I still love him. His presence brings me comfort. I know he's sincere. I know he'd never hurt me.

But...

I know.

I focus on my breathing as I hear him breathe outside the door.

"Will you come in?" I ask, moving to the side.

He's up and opening the door as soon as the words leave my mouth.

"I'm here, sweetheart."

He bends down.

"Can I pick you up?"

I nod and he scoops me up effortlessly in his arms and we move to the bed. We sit as he runs his hands through my hair and whispers comforts.

"You can't ever do that. Not you." I whisper. Barely audible.

"I know." He says as his voice cracks.

I let him hold me as I calm down.

"Have you thought about giving Jax a funeral? It may help you find closure." He says.

In all honesty, I did think about it. And then I thought something even more depressing.

Who the fuck would come.

Sure he had a few friends from school, but not serious ones. The people that cared about him were dead or gone.

"There's no one to have a funeral with." I whisper.

He nods, unsure of what to say.

"Maybe we can bury him by my mom?"

He looks at me through sad eyes and nods.

"Of course. I'll have the arrangements made as soon as you'd like."

"Can you do it now?"

I want to put him where he belongs. The two people I love most in the world by each other. It's perfect.

"Absolutely. Will you be okay by yourself?"

I nod. I want some alone time so that I can take a bath and decompress.

He leaves the room.

How fucked is my life, huh? As I said, I would laugh if it wasn't so damn tragic. I pick myself up and take a bath. They'll be plenty of time to bawl my eyes out at their graves.

I want tattoos.

I look in the mirror at the many, many scars that line my body and settle on getting an obscene amount.

I'll look so hot.

Face tats?

Jesus. I really can't just take things slow can I?

Slow is boring.

True. So this is what we've come to, huh? Talking to ourselves like an insane person?

Yup.

Cool.

Cannon's POV

That won't ever happen again. Period.