Page 11 of Haven

Jude would do a ‘celebration’ on my birthday, and though I knew my sister wouldn’t hurt me, my brain didn’t believe me. For four years, I experienced pain and misery on that cursed day, and I was mortified. Cinder asked what I wanted to do for my birthday to help both of us and it triggered a reaction. And my response was an emotional suicide note and taking an almost lethal amount of Ambien and Oxycodone, but Cinder found me. She always found me.

My sister had to mourn the man who raised her while visiting me in the hospital. It changed her. Hell that night mortified her. It was my attempt to silence everything, but the memory belonged to both of us. If I was honest, I didn’t think she fully healed from that night. She also wore scars, but she hid hers better.

We had each other. Her protectiveness was suffocating, but I knew why. I was learning to live and I knew nothing would magically cure me. There wasn’t a medical miracle, a happy pill, or love that would take my internal scars away. I had baggage and I wasn’t hiding it, but it wasn’t my defining characteristic either. I took life one day at a time, and sometimes it was easier than others and other days I felt like the world was ending.

Trauma was peculiar. One moment I was fine, and the next I was overwhelmed by emotions or memories I couldn’t control because of a phrase or the feeling of tight clothing. My therapist, God bless her, was a saint and helped me with coping skills. For the record—beating up men and sleeping with random women was not in her book of coping mechanisms, but it was in mine. I didn’t use sex as a coping mechanism all the time, because that involved people seeing me naked. I covered my body in ink, some of my own designs and sometimes I let other artists tattoo me if I was close to them. It took a lot for me to get comfortable with someone else touching me.

I couldn’t help but think of Hades and the way she touched my body. For one fleeting night, I’d forgotten what it felt like to live in a constant state of fight or flight. Even other one night stands had never felt like this or left a lingering feeling. This was why I kept my therapist employed. She was about to have a field day with this one.

When Cin first saved me and brought me back to Briarwood from Nevada, she found one of the best child psychiatrists in the state to help me, but she was a bitch. When I told Cin that Dr. Minerva blamed me for what happened to me, claiming it was my fault for being a terrible child, Cinder wanted to kill her. Instead, Cinder stripped her of her medical license and blacklisted her from ever working again.

Eventually, I settled with my current therapist, and she was a great fit. I met Dr. Griffith when she was still Isabelle Griffith and working in the psych hospital for the last year of her residency. She supported me with everything I did in my life, including when I dropped out of college to do tattoos.

Growing up, I thought I would have a different career. I always loved animals and thought I would be a vet, but after what happened to me, I wanted to work with children in troubled homes. I guess that was social work, but I couldn’t do the four years of college plus another to get my master’s. I barely got an associate's degree. I met my best friend, Babs, there. If it wasn’t for her, I would have flunked community college.

I was twenty-six, so I had plenty of time to go back for something. When Cin brought me back, I spent a year catching up, or trying to, but I did well. I was homeschooled instead of attending public school since I didn’t know how to properly function with society at the time. Crowded places still weren’t my cup of tea, but I was getting better at dealing with it.

Cinder gave me everything I needed if I never asked for it. One day, when I felt ready, I might go back to college and finish my degree, but I was content with my life and my career currently. One day, I’d finish it because I wanted to, and then I could actually leave my sister’s nest. Don’t get me wrong—I loved my sister. She was the knight who saved the princess at the end of a Disney movie; just minus the happily ever after, and the fact she saved me more than once.

She opened SafeHaven in my honor to help women and children in hard situations, whether it was from financial burden or something closer to my own situation. Cinder made it her mission to help people and I volunteered there sometimes, but it depended on the case. I wasn’t going to lie and say I was made of steel when I wasn’t.

“Okay, we are finally done,” I told Rob as I wiped the final part of his tattoo. “What do you think?” He looked at the forestry work on his arm.

“Badass. Thanks, Rory.”

“Of course. Next time, I’m charging every time you wiggle.”

His face turned two shades darker. “Eh, it’ll be worth it.” He laughed as he paid me.

I had plans to go to Reject Paradise to bug Vesper, but I needed to change. Cinder would be there sometime tonight, and I knew she would question why I had on sleeves. I hated clothes. They were suffocating. I had a sensory issue with things being on my arms. It would make me overstimulated and I would have panic attacks. I was miserable during the winter. The excuse I used on Cinder would have to be Pulitzer Prize-level.

Eleven

Rory

Iupdated my Instagram page with a few more tattoos I’d done recently, and answered some DMs. One thing I despised was marketing my work, but at the same time, I had the Vipers and word of mouth, too. It was working, because I had someone from New York come to Georgia to get a tattoo from me.

Tattooing was a form of escapism for me. After my attempt, I tried to find things that kept my mind busy. Reading was boring, and I couldn't stay still long enough to do it. I did enjoy sketching designs on the spines of books, though. I started scribbling designs on my legs, and Cinder let me add things to her tattoos. Then she decided to buy me a tattooing kit for Christmas. After that, I started doing little things and falling in love with it, and that was all she wrote.

After I changed into a Motionless in White cropped band tee and a pair of tight blue jeans, I was ready to go to Reject’s for a little while to tease Vesper. I faltered when I saw a singular light pink carnation on the seat of my Ducati, along with a note. I hesitated for a second, shifting on my feet as I grabbed the flower. It was my favorite type and color of flower. Only someone who knew me would know this.

I reached for the note, but there wasn’t anything written except for a pink heart. I found it odd, but I wondered if it was from Vesper. She knew a lot of things about me, and so did Widow, but it would be a cold day in hell if Widow did anything like this. I glanced around the area. My tattoo shop wasn’t far from Reject’s Paradise or the clubhouse, but the Vipers would let me know if they were here or my camera would alert me.

It was Friday, which meant Vesper would be at the bar. I didn’t want to deal with any other Viper right now, and Vesper was my favorite. One, she was hotter than sin, and two, she kept my secrets from Cinder. She was the perfect woman—my perfect woman. The universe had a cruel sense of humor.

Vesper was cleaning tables, getting ready to open as I skipped inside. Being the little sister of the owner entitled me to certain things, and one of those included lounging around and laying on the bar. I skipped past the glare Vesper shot at me and jumped onto the counter.

“You know people eat there, mariposa?”

I smirked. “You could eat me here.”

She glowered at me. “You love teasing me, don’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Cin’s going to be here in a few minutes, so if you’re avoiding her, you failed.”

“I’m not avoiding anyone,” I fibbed.