Once there was a happy little girl, she thought her life was perfect. Then death happened and due to certain circumstances she was left broken and lost trust with people. She learned from early on family is not blood.
Can she learn to trust again?
...
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Bambi
Driving down the highway, we passed several houses and hills that have little housing communities on them. There is only one road through town, then you have the side roads. They all have names, but we usually call it whoever lives on it. Like the one we just passed; it's called Cyclone Valley, but Greg Burton lives down there. We all say Greg Burton's Road. Everyone knows where it is, shoot they all know your business here. I bet it'll get around tomorrow I'm back. That "little Storm kid", I can imagine what they'll say. "I remember when she was little up on the knob (the hill we lived on), she was wild always running around you'll never know what she was going to do next" or "I remember when she took off. Left her poor mama and never called again". There is always a rumor going on about someone.
We kept going farther from town, I wonder if Jake knew where he was going, then he turned down a dirt road. This road was the one Old Man Jones lived on. He had a huge Victorian style house that I loved when I was little. It had been in his family for years, his family owned half the oil in Diamond Valley. Rumor was that Mr. Jones never had anymore kids, his wife died years ago giving birth to her son. The son ended up being drafted, he never came home. Mr. Jones kept the place up, but he only lived in one room on the bottom floor, he left the rest how they was.
"Um, bro, do you know where you are going?," I tried to ask him again. Jake just laughed. Suddenly the dirt road turned to pavement. I looked around and there was trees along both side of the pavement. I loved this. He came upon a black metal gate, put in some code and drove through. He kept driving until the driveway opened to show a circle with a fountain in the middle of it. I was awestruck. The house was still the same. Everything was the same, I love historical houses like this. Jake parked behind a black Harley Davidson motorcycle. I raised my eyebrow went to ask Jake a question but he had done got out and was walking inside. I got out and followed him in.
"Blaze?" Jake yelled as he walked into a bar room. The outside was the same but the inside was different. They had knocked down all the walls so it was just a big open space. The only thing that was left was the downstairs bathroom and one other room that use to be a study. There are booths with dark lights over them, the windows had black out curtains hanging on them. Everything is opened.
I looked around, there are a couple more men wearing The Riders of Neptune and some I see are prospects.Behind the bar was a man who looked bored. He had tattoos on both arms and looks like up his neck. Oddly he looked familiar. He had black hair. Clearly he had some Native American in his blood, he looked like one. My bother went to him and did a "man hug". I figured he wanted me to follow so I tagged after him. I'm still trying to figure out why he's familiar.
"Nah, he went on a run with Bones. Trace up in White Valley was refusing to pay. I thought branching out would help us. But they are giving us more trouble," he looked at me, "well shit. Little Deer is here!"
"Loki!" I scream. He pulls me into a hug. This was one of my cousins. We were the closest and he was the only one who didn't treat me any different. He was also my best friend.
