Chapel’s chest to signal the show is over. When Marxx looks to the man, I know it’s not. It’s just stalled until everyone can put the pieces of this day back together. Tomorrow, I’ll worry about it tomorrow. Right now, I just want the chance to clean up today, a shower, a few hours of sleep and Aimes’ smiling face again. Marxx told me once that it was from me she gained her strength. Standing here in the middle of a ring of hell, I’m not so sure he was right.
Her one-liners would have diffused this situation before the threats could have been shared. She would have had us shaking our heads with her mangled logic and forgetting we are deep in the puddles of the blood that are drying into shameful stains. Stains that no matter what Chapel may have told the man are our fault. We knew this was going to happen. We underestimated J.D. and like so many others in his past it could cost us everything; our home, our new bonds, our security and our pixie – everything.
At one time, I would have told Marxx to grow up and stormed past them all. I would have taken the lead and left them to stew in their injured male prides. I was not this girl hanging in the back, huddled waiting with choked breath, caged in fear over what they are going to do. That frustration is still with me. It’s stalking the walls of my mind like a large cat with the dark thoughts that it whispers to me. I could focus on it, pulling it forward to shield the truth of how I am feeling, but I’m tired of being the fighter. I want to be just a survivor for one day, but that’s not me. White flags are not my style even when they really should be.
My deep inhaled breath twitches Lawless’ eyes to me as if he just remembered I was still here. It’s the ignition I needed. “You boys done measuring your dicks? I’d like to check on Simon.”
It’s overly cruel for what has happened, I know, but it works. All eyes swing to me and I force my face to go blank. It deflates their puffed chests like an abused balloon. If I have learned anything from my time with G.R.I.T., it’s that men don’t respond well to subtle and we don’t have a lot of time to waste. They really aren’t amused by a lack of appreciation for their “manhood” either.
“Unless you’re willing to hold the measuring stick, yeah, I’m good,” Rhett tells me with a new light to his eyes. His lips hold the trademark of trouble and when he looks to Lawless. I know it’s not me he is toying with.
Lawless meets his stare and returns his own smirk with a head nod before saying, “Yeah, we all friends here.” Lawless pulls Marxx forward by the vest that unites them, never removing his stare from Rhett.
The cat in my mind roars with annoyance. It pushes me forward, lending my legs the prowling walk of its nature. “One big happy family,” I say as I walk through the cluster of them. “Let’s go bury Daddy.”
Their smiles melt. The corners of their mouths are pulled down, frowning over the momentarily forgotten event that has slipped from their minds. The clicking of my boots is the only sound in the hall now. I let it echo around me as I leave them behind.
“Changed my mind.” I hear Rhett say behind me. “I’m afraid of what she might do with the measuring stick.”
“That’s why we don’t give her a gun.” Marxx’ gruff voice is followed by their footsteps landing one more notch to my annoyance.
A thousand responses are crawling along my tongue, but my bullshit meter is maxed already. He is right. If they had given me a gun when this all began, they would all probably have flesh wounds by now. Only flesh wounds, I promise. I bite back my bitterness and glance over my shoulder with a look that lets them know I heard them before heading towards the mourners with whom I am most concerned. I head towards the body of a man I called father as we leave a father behind.
Simon has laid his daughter, Kira, beside the body of his wife. He sits between them both, holding
Her one-liners would have diffused this situation before the threats could have been shared. She would have had us shaking our heads with her mangled logic and forgetting we are deep in the puddles of the blood that are drying into shameful stains. Stains that no matter what Chapel may have told the man are our fault. We knew this was going to happen. We underestimated J.D. and like so many others in his past it could cost us everything; our home, our new bonds, our security and our pixie – everything.
At one time, I would have told Marxx to grow up and stormed past them all. I would have taken the lead and left them to stew in their injured male prides. I was not this girl hanging in the back, huddled waiting with choked breath, caged in fear over what they are going to do. That frustration is still with me. It’s stalking the walls of my mind like a large cat with the dark thoughts that it whispers to me. I could focus on it, pulling it forward to shield the truth of how I am feeling, but I’m tired of being the fighter. I want to be just a survivor for one day, but that’s not me. White flags are not my style even when they really should be.
My deep inhaled breath twitches Lawless’ eyes to me as if he just remembered I was still here. It’s the ignition I needed. “You boys done measuring your dicks? I’d like to check on Simon.”
It’s overly cruel for what has happened, I know, but it works. All eyes swing to me and I force my face to go blank. It deflates their puffed chests like an abused balloon. If I have learned anything from my time with G.R.I.T., it’s that men don’t respond well to subtle and we don’t have a lot of time to waste. They really aren’t amused by a lack of appreciation for their “manhood” either.
“Unless you’re willing to hold the measuring stick, yeah, I’m good,” Rhett tells me with a new light to his eyes. His lips hold the trademark of trouble and when he looks to Lawless. I know it’s not me he is toying with.
Lawless meets his stare and returns his own smirk with a head nod before saying, “Yeah, we all friends here.” Lawless pulls Marxx forward by the vest that unites them, never removing his stare from Rhett.
The cat in my mind roars with annoyance. It pushes me forward, lending my legs the prowling walk of its nature. “One big happy family,” I say as I walk through the cluster of them. “Let’s go bury Daddy.”
Their smiles melt. The corners of their mouths are pulled down, frowning over the momentarily forgotten event that has slipped from their minds. The clicking of my boots is the only sound in the hall now. I let it echo around me as I leave them behind.
“Changed my mind.” I hear Rhett say behind me. “I’m afraid of what she might do with the measuring stick.”
“That’s why we don’t give her a gun.” Marxx’ gruff voice is followed by their footsteps landing one more notch to my annoyance.
A thousand responses are crawling along my tongue, but my bullshit meter is maxed already. He is right. If they had given me a gun when this all began, they would all probably have flesh wounds by now. Only flesh wounds, I promise. I bite back my bitterness and glance over my shoulder with a look that lets them know I heard them before heading towards the mourners with whom I am most concerned. I head towards the body of a man I called father as we leave a father behind.
Simon has laid his daughter, Kira, beside the body of his wife. He sits between them both, holding
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