The Saints' Devil

XI

Frank's mind was consumed. Her words replayed over and over in his head, giving him the most clarity he's had in a long time. The garage stayed closed for a while longer while he continued to fix the place up from being trashed.

He spent a good portion of time replacing all the windows in the entire place since they were all pretty much smashed to hell. He would've finished it all sooner, would've opened up business again sooner but it was because her little speech had given him the most exhilarating feeling, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"You're quite possibly the best person I have ever met in my entire life."

No one had said anything like that to him. Not even his own family. The mere thought of the word family unleashed that nagging voice once more and he had to stop for the day, heading up to his bedroom and sitting on the end of his bed, head in his hands. His mind raced.

He thought of his childhood, before he was taken in by Eagle and given his permanent home. He could hear the screams of his parents in his head, permanently echoing in his mind from that one night. After that incident he went to live with his uncle, whom was his only family left, and the man was no sunshine and rainbows. In his uncles younger years, he was a famous tattoo artist but the fame got to him rather quickly and he began abusing drugs and other substances. Soon, he was diagnosed with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder so the man alone was completely unstable by the time Frank showed up on his doorstep.

It wasn't just that but the short amount of time he lived there was nothing but absolute hell. His uncle was no longer allowed to be a professional tattoo artist so when Frank, young and a completely blank canvas, showed up he took advantage of him. Frank trusted him and his uncle chained him up in his basement and would go downstairs whenever he wanted and he'd tattoo the hell out of him for hours on end.

There was not a single tattoo on his body that he loved, not even liked. Every single one of them were disturbing and they all seemed to just remind him of what happened, of the pain and the torment he went through for six years. The day he had finally escaped out of his uncles grasp was the night he killed his first man; he had killed his uncle. Put the poor bastard out of his misery and ran like hell for days, weeks, months until Eagle found him sleeping outside of the clubhouse and brought him in and there he was.

Frank stood abruptly, ripping his mask off and throwing it on the ground, his hands on top of his head as the horrific voice of his uncle echoed through his head, awful memories rushing through his brain. He paced his room and ripped the top part of his jumpsuit off, tying it roughly around his waist, allowing the cool air to hit his bare torso.

It wasn't just the hours of being tatted on but when his uncle would come down he could never tell what was real and what was in his head so he verbally abused Frank. Called him a demon, the devil, screamed in his face awful words, words that should not have been spoken to a six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven year old; words that should not have been said to a child. It traumatized him, scarred him for life for the demons in his mind had the same voice as his uncle and they screamed at him the same words he had spoken for years.

That is why, that's why it was always so shocking when she said something nice to him, complimented him, thanked him. He wasn't used to it, at all, he'd never been shown any form of kindness. Everyone either left him the hell alone, feared him, or were comfortable enough to talk to him, none of them ever bothered with giving him a pat on the back, but she did.

Just the thought of her had shown a light on his dark mind and he relaxed immensely. His hands fell back down to his sides and he breathed a silent breath of relief. He sat back down on the edge of his bed, lying back completely and staring up at the ceiling as he thought of her. He was in trouble, he told himself not to get attached and yet here he was. He was beyond attached, after all, he took a bullet for her, risked his life for her. He was getting soft over a small, curvaceous woman with gorgeous blond hair.

He breathed deeply and finally sat back up again, his eyes widening at the sight of Charlie standing in the doorway, eyes wide, overalls tied around her waist, tank top revealing her collarbones and her eyes looking straight at him, at his face.

His eyes widened instantly and he stood and turned from her, trying to keep from startling her. He mentally punched himself for being so stupid, for not locking the door, for ripping his mask off. "Get out."

"Frank--"

"Get out!" he shouted, turning his head slightly to show her that he didn't want her to see any more of his face.

He waited until he heard the door shut before he moved and he instantly grabbed his mask and put it back on.

Charlie stood on the other side of the door, heart racing and tension spreading in the pit of her stomach. Frank was drop dead gorgeous. It was dark so she couldn't see too much but she saw enough. She saw a long scar going down his left eye from his forehead down to the middle of his cheek and another scar on the right side down his jawline. A light scruff had decorated his incredibly sharp jawline and his eyes sparkled a beautiful steel color. His hair was buzzed, but she already knew that, she was just insanely shocked.

He was hotter than hot.

Suddenly, the door she'd been leaning on was ripping away from her and she felt herself falling backward but was, luckily caught. She blinked a few times and looked up at Frank's masked face, her cheeks heating immensely at the memory of his face. "Hi," she said breathlessly, staring up at him.

"What were you doing?" he asked, pushing her back on her feet, allowing her to turn around and face him.

"Leaning against your door," she admitted, her eyes glazed over just thinking about how delicious he looked. Mask off and topless, talk about her new favorite dessert.

"Don't go into my room without knocking," he suddenly said, turning to leave her standing in the hallway but she stopped him.

"Why do you wear a mask?" she suddenly blurted, watching as he tensed and slowly turned his head to look at her.

"Cover your face! Cover your face! Cover your face! You fucking demon! You're the devil! You're not my nephew! You're a demon! A demon! Cover your face! Cover your face! You're disgusting! You're terrifying! Don't look at me!" his uncle's voice said, echoing in his mind. He remembered the day his uncle had slashed at his face in hysterics, screaming about how Frank was a demon. "Because I'm terrifying," he said, reciting the same words his uncle said to him.

With that said he turned and left her standing there in the hallway and loaded himself on his bike, getting away from her as quickly as he could.