fingertips press against the lowest section of my back. This he does acknowledge with a wink from his pale, angry eyes.
The screams have drowned to the grief that only silence can accompany. All words have been used and have fallen short. Those who are embracing the ones who have lived in guilty gratitude and those who are lost in their memories of the ones they have lost divide the hallway. One common enemy unites them all - us.
Those once grateful, perhaps even envious of our little family, no longer harbor any admiration for us. They pull each other closer as we pass as if we could spread some disease of misfortune. Perhaps we could with how everything has played out. Some do not even try to hide their belief in our faults.
Marxx has to be restrained as one male spits at our feet as we pass. The man’s grief has encased him with rage. He stands over the body of a dead female. He has arranged her to look as if she is sleeping with closed eyes and palms pressed to the floor. She is a modern day Sleeping Beauty with her blonde hair fanned around her. In death, her skin tone still holds a pale ethereal entrancement and her lips cling to their pink tint even as it slowly fades. A simple kiss from a prince and it should spare this tragedy, but it won’t. None of us are spared - not this father and not his daughter.
“You did this,” the man shouts over the arms pulling him from Marxx. He continues with his screaming, “You let him kill my daughter! We all saw how unstable he was. Why didn’t you stop him?”
“We didn’t know,” Chapel lies. He lies with the bruising still on his face from his broken nose. He lies not with malice, but praying for mercy. Yearning for the punishment he feels he deserves, he has placed himself between Marxx and the man. Chapel will take the judgment. He craves it.
The man sneers with his rage into the face of Chapel. He stands toe to toe with the taller man with his anger giving him courage and says, “Isn’t this what your type does? You kill, and prey on those you think weaker than you?”
Rhett laughs a deep chuckle as he wraps an arm around Chapel’s shoulder. He blocks the view of Lawless pulling Marxx backwards from the grieving father and says with his warning smirk, “Yeah man, that’s what we do. We ride around town beefing with other MCs over territories, run drugs, all that crazy O.K. Coral shit just like whatever television show you’ve been watching.” Rhett leans dangerously close and whispers beside the man’s head, “It’s a good thing that’s all television bullshit because if you really thought we were like that, you’d know what I’d have to do to you now for spitting on a member of my club.”
Rhett lets his words sink in as he pulls slowly away from the man to stare into his eyes. I watch as the emotions flicker across the man’s face. He wants to hold on to his rage. He wants to stand firm and brave thinking it will be an act of justice to take out his anger on us, but another emotion that is harder to fight against slows his breathing and pulls him a slight step backwards. Rhett smiles knowing he has the man now. I have learned from Rhett that you never back down to what you fear because once you have, you can never meet its eyes again and the man can’t. Rhett played a game of truth or dare and the man isn’t willing to call dare, but Rhett is.
“Bury your daughter, man. Take care of your shit. I’m sorry for your loss, but if you ever pull something like that again….” Rhett lets the ending hang and the silence says more than any words he might have chosen.
“I’m sorry.” Chapel’s voice holds the pain he is feeling and it connects with the man. It’s a verbal handshake of a greeting that no parent wants. With his voice, Chapel lets the other man know that he knows the man’s suffering as only a father can. It’s a balm to the man and he nods, but the anger is still a flicker of a candle’s flame in his eyes.
Rhett pats
The screams have drowned to the grief that only silence can accompany. All words have been used and have fallen short. Those who are embracing the ones who have lived in guilty gratitude and those who are lost in their memories of the ones they have lost divide the hallway. One common enemy unites them all - us.
Those once grateful, perhaps even envious of our little family, no longer harbor any admiration for us. They pull each other closer as we pass as if we could spread some disease of misfortune. Perhaps we could with how everything has played out. Some do not even try to hide their belief in our faults.
Marxx has to be restrained as one male spits at our feet as we pass. The man’s grief has encased him with rage. He stands over the body of a dead female. He has arranged her to look as if she is sleeping with closed eyes and palms pressed to the floor. She is a modern day Sleeping Beauty with her blonde hair fanned around her. In death, her skin tone still holds a pale ethereal entrancement and her lips cling to their pink tint even as it slowly fades. A simple kiss from a prince and it should spare this tragedy, but it won’t. None of us are spared - not this father and not his daughter.
“You did this,” the man shouts over the arms pulling him from Marxx. He continues with his screaming, “You let him kill my daughter! We all saw how unstable he was. Why didn’t you stop him?”
“We didn’t know,” Chapel lies. He lies with the bruising still on his face from his broken nose. He lies not with malice, but praying for mercy. Yearning for the punishment he feels he deserves, he has placed himself between Marxx and the man. Chapel will take the judgment. He craves it.
The man sneers with his rage into the face of Chapel. He stands toe to toe with the taller man with his anger giving him courage and says, “Isn’t this what your type does? You kill, and prey on those you think weaker than you?”
Rhett laughs a deep chuckle as he wraps an arm around Chapel’s shoulder. He blocks the view of Lawless pulling Marxx backwards from the grieving father and says with his warning smirk, “Yeah man, that’s what we do. We ride around town beefing with other MCs over territories, run drugs, all that crazy O.K. Coral shit just like whatever television show you’ve been watching.” Rhett leans dangerously close and whispers beside the man’s head, “It’s a good thing that’s all television bullshit because if you really thought we were like that, you’d know what I’d have to do to you now for spitting on a member of my club.”
Rhett lets his words sink in as he pulls slowly away from the man to stare into his eyes. I watch as the emotions flicker across the man’s face. He wants to hold on to his rage. He wants to stand firm and brave thinking it will be an act of justice to take out his anger on us, but another emotion that is harder to fight against slows his breathing and pulls him a slight step backwards. Rhett smiles knowing he has the man now. I have learned from Rhett that you never back down to what you fear because once you have, you can never meet its eyes again and the man can’t. Rhett played a game of truth or dare and the man isn’t willing to call dare, but Rhett is.
“Bury your daughter, man. Take care of your shit. I’m sorry for your loss, but if you ever pull something like that again….” Rhett lets the ending hang and the silence says more than any words he might have chosen.
“I’m sorry.” Chapel’s voice holds the pain he is feeling and it connects with the man. It’s a verbal handshake of a greeting that no parent wants. With his voice, Chapel lets the other man know that he knows the man’s suffering as only a father can. It’s a balm to the man and he nods, but the anger is still a flicker of a candle’s flame in his eyes.
Rhett pats
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