Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
From the bruises on her body, I’ve a feelin’ I know what the problem is, and havin’ a man touch her might not offer her the solace I’m aimin’ for. I’ve never felt the need to protect someone outside the club like I do with her. Most women who come across my path are there for an escape. A moment in time I’ll forget the moment they walk away. But with her, this wee Clover, I want ta be close to her. The demons who fight inside me for dominance seem to cower when I’m close to her. She emits a light I’ve never seen before.
The brothers will take the piss outta me if they knew what I was thinkin’ right now. But then again, Monster has his own love, and Tye’s convinced he’s goin’ta get married soon. The rest of them will make sure I regret ever confessin’ my feelin’s for this wee thing.
“What are you doing here?” she rasps, her voice drippin’ with pain and anguish. She lifts her eyes, and I’m met with those forest-coloured orbs, and I’m lost in the trees and leaves as they fall within her stare. She crosses her arms over her chest, as if she’s tryin’ta hide behind them. But I see it, the agony she’s keepin’ inside.
“Ye feckin’ ran off like ye’d seen a ghost.” I want to kick myself at the accusing tone in my voice because she winces, but then she nods at my words. She doesn’t reply to me, though. “I needed to know ye’re all right. I don’t like ta see a wee thing like yerself hurt or upset. I’m not usually like this, but ye’ve got me worried, lass.”
“You shouldn’t be here. As much as I appreciate you checking up on me, you don’t need to. It’s best if you don’t,” she tells me quickly.
Steppin’ back, she pushes the door shut, and I stand here starin’ at the white, wooden barrier now separatin’ us. There are soft sobs comin’ from the other side. I lean against the door, and slide down until I’m on my arse outside her room.
“Tell me what happened,” I ask, talkin’ to the wall opposite me, starin’ at the old stains on the cream-coloured concrete. “I’ve heard talkin’ about yer problems with someone is the best way ta get them to go away.”
“Why do you want to know? It’s not like we’re friends or anything like that.” Her voice finally comes after so long I thought she was goin’ta ignore me all afternoon. A loud crack of thunder from outside causes her to yelp in fright, but I can’t stop myself from smilin’, because I love this weather. “I hate storms.” Her words are a bit louder now, and I wonder if she’s feelin’ less scared of me because the weather is shite. Either way, I’m glad.
“I know what it’s like not ta have anyone to talk to.” I don’t know why I’m telling her this, but I feel as if she needs to know. I spent most of my youngest years alone. It was only when Monster asked me to join the club that things turned around. Patchin’ in was a change for me, one that gave me a purpose.
More silence comes from inside her bedroom, then I hear the lock click, and the door slides open, causing me to fall backwards halfway into her room.
“Hi,” I say from the floor, smilin’ up at her tear-stained face.
She’s beautiful. Even in all those gloriously tattered pieces, she’s utterly breathtaking.
“You can’t sit outside my door all day,” she tells me, almost back to the snarky little woman from outside, but there’s still so much emotion in her words, in her expression, that I sit up and spin on my arse. Leanin’ my back against the wall I’d been staring at earlier, I now look at her standin’ in the doorway of her bedroom.
The fiery wee thing is gorgeous. I’m a man, hot-feckin’-blooded, and she’s causin’ me to think ’bout things I should not be thinkin’ ’bout. But she’s healin’ and there’s no way I can try anythin’ with her in that state. She needs help, not some fecker pawin’ her.
She’s still dressed in torn stockin’s with holes in the knees. Her frayed denim shorts sit mid-thigh, offerin’ me a view of bruises on her legs. Her top hangs off one shoulder, and I’ve a feelin’ there must be bruises on her body. And even the ones not visible are etched on her soul. She’s too jumpy when I’m close to her. I know women who have been in violent relationships. My ma was one of those women.
Never understood why she didn’t walk out. I wasn’t old enough to talk to her about it. And I never once asked her afterwards. It’s a topic we didn’t ever broach. I don’t judge Ma for stayin’. I’m just feckin’ ragin’ that she didn’t take her things, and me, and walk out. We could have made it work somewhere.