Page 5 of Bleed Me

Diesel reverting to his joking around with broken god-awful Spanish, I actually sighed with relief. The old Diesel was present again. It was comforting. Up to this point, I had been so lost and confused, seeing an old role model was very welcomed. Even though he preferred me dead, it was all I had.

As far as Daytona, Tuck, V, Delilah, and I had spent spring break there earlier that school year. Tuck, preparing for college, talked his dad into letting us go be young and free—with a powerful biker club watching over us.

I told Diesel, “I, uh, blamed my blackouts on the alcohol, but I just don’t know the truth anymore.”

“Thanks for being honest. It helps. I want to kill you.”

Again, I nodded. “I don’t blame you.”

“The girls won’t tell me shit.” He lit a cigarette. “Won’t even let Tucker in.”

I took a sharp inhale. “Those three are the OG Amigos.”

Blowing smoke into the night, he nodded. “For fucking sure.” He stopped walking. “Jesus, Kenny, what happened?”

Not my manliest moment, I burst into tears. “I don’t fucking know. I don’t remember shit. It’s like someone keeps fucking with a light switch in my head. Every time it’s off, I don’t know what I’m doing. Like, not until the switch is back on and someone tells me what I’ve done.”

“Has anyone told you?”

I wiped snot from under my nose. “Only Delilah and your sister.”

His eyes widened for some reason. “They told you?”

“Well, the day all this went down was my first clue of what may be happening to me. After I brought Delilah home because of cramps, so she claimed—”

He huffed. “You don’t believe in Mary Days?”

Blink. Blink. “Huh?”

“Bloody Mary Week.”

I cringed. “Gross. Uh, no, I’m a true believer, it’s just that I don’t remember any of it. Not bringing her home. Nothing. Just, flick of a switch, then I was in her room and she was in the shower.”

His voice lowered. “The motherfucking shower?”

Chills climbed my spine. “Well, yeah. Why?”

His jaw locked as he peered around, almost as if his mind was racing with a thousand scenarios, or at least one very grim one. “Then what happened?”

Being in the middle of an abandoned field, in the middle of the night, with a pissed and deadly biker and no witnesses, could make any man a little nervous. Since I wasn’t quite a man yet, I was practically shitting myself. “Uh, D-Delilah showed me some information on her laptop—the personality stuff—and said all she was reading reminded her of—”

It had only been days since my world had been turned upside down. I was pretty sure it would never be right-side-up again. Comprehending it all, which I wasn’t, was tough enough. Speaking of it all out loud? Debilitating.

Diesel pointed at me.

Swallowing, I nodded. “Yeah. It all reminded her of me. It was V who claimed I did something bad.”

“My sister told you?”

Clearly, she hadn’t told her brother. That got my attention. Up to this point, V had told her brother everything. They even openly talked about sex. Viola must have had a damn good reason to keep her mouth shut. It was at that very moment I chose to finally listen to Viola. She had always been somewhat of a bitch to me, but I always ignored her, only to learn that her keen sense was on point; I was no good for Delilah. The only way I could show Viola respect—thank her for being so good to Delilah—was to follow her lead and keep my mouth shut. All I told Diesel was, “Delilah doesn’t think it’s possible to hate someone she loves. I just know it, but she should. She should tell someone about what I’ve done. Whatever that may be. She should scream the truth. Diesel, promise me someday you will get her to do just that—open up to you.”

His callused hand wiped down his rugged face as he stared at me with an expression that had him spooked. Finally, he asked, “Would you do the same for Jenny?”

Just like that, another damn blackout arrived. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground, on my back, looking up at three guns pointed at my face. Diesel was sitting on top of me, horror etched into a face that never showed fear.

Heart ripped to shreds, tears dripped down the sides of my face. “The switch.” I was recognizing them now. How could I not? “How bad was I?”

Art and Red’s guns, still pointed, were trembling.