Page 119 of Cut Me Down

I love my hiding spot for my blankey. It doesn’t get dirty, and mommy can’t give it to the store lady if she can’t find it. I shouldn’t hide things from mommy, that makes me a bad girl. But I love my blankey. It will be okay, mommy likes blankeys too! She lays with one all of the time!

One more reach into my secret spot…yes! My Peter Pan video box! Okay, okay, first green button, then red button, then box. Rewind, then play. That’s how it works.

I did it! Yes! I'm not stupid anymore mommy, I got it!

Now I have to be quiet. Daddy doesn’t like it when I sing, but I just can't help it! Peter Pan is my favorite!

“The second star to the right shines in the night for you…” I whisper sing.

“Damn it, Jenny! That was the last of our shit! The fuck are we supposed to do now!?” I hear my daddy yell.

“Oh, fuck you, Mark! I don’t…” My blankey can keep me from hearing their grown-up talks. Just put it over my head and pull it to my mouth. Just like Serena’s daddy showed me.

I don’t know what shit is, but that’s okay, I'm sure they’ll get more, and the only thing I want right now is this peanut butter on my fingers and for Peter Pan to take me to Neverland.

“And if it’s Neverland you need, its light will lead you there…”

I wake up drawing in a sharp breath. What the hell is wrong with me? We had such a good day today, why the fuck does this keep happening? I sit up as easily as I can, careful not to wake Damien, grab his shirt I was wearing, and head to the bathroom. I gently shut the door before my hands firmly grasp the edge of the counter, and I almost can’t bring myself to look in the mirror. Those years were pushed so far back into my mind, yet I find myself kind of jealous of his family.

Not an angry jealousy, I’d never resent him or his family for being good people. I just hate that my family was anything but good. There are horrible people in this world, and I just drew the shit stick early in life, I guess.

So why can’t I stop shaking? I've moved on from my past, this shouldn’t be affecting me the way it is. I'm not that naïve little girl anymore. A blankey is the least of my necessities, I know the drugs that riddled my house, and I don’t wait for Peter Pan to whisk me away anymore.

I chuckle to myself at the thought that Damien is kind of my Peter Pan. Sneaking in through my window at night to play, and then taking me away to a better life. I will never openly compare him to Peter Pan, that’s embarrassing as hell, but I'll definitely think of him that way when I have rough nights like this.

I slip his shirt back on and bring the material up to my face. I can still smell the burning plastic and chemicals in the back of my throat. That dream wasn’t real, I shouldn’t be able to smell it, but I do. Inhaling his scent is definitely helping though. It’s slowly soothing the shaky nerves and horrid smell.

I'm not there anymore, I don’t need to tip toe around and be afraid to be seen. He sees me, always has, and I don’t feel nervous around him anymore. He lets me feel what I need to feel, I shouldn’t hide in the bathroom like this, and I’m not going to anymore.

I stand up tall, fix his shirt on my body, turn, and open the bathroom door. Walking back to the bed, I notice that he’s moved to his back, and his arm is searching the bed beside him. Right where I was laying. Goofball, even when he’s still asleep he can tell I'm not right there with him. I crawl back into bed and lay up against him again, for only a second before he turns back on his side and engulfs me in his arms.

“You okay?” He groggily says before his breaths even out again. I just gently nod my head against his chest and lay here attached to him. Focusing on the steady, strong rhythm of his heart. His grip calming every last nerve.

Chapter forty-two

Damien

We arrived at the funeral home about ten minutes ago, and so far, the only people I met that I didn’t know before were Henry’s parents, and Marissa’s parents. She filled them in that he worked for us, since they insisted on ‘meeting his friends’. Everyone else, I’ve met one time or another. Everyone from Devil’s Hands is here, and rightfully so. We all loved Henry like he was our sibling. Marissa knows this. They were married for five years, and almost all of us were at his wedding.

All of the members’ significant others came, as well as every girl that Henry personally saved. Twelve of them, to be exact. The one that sticks out the most is Haley, his first save. She now has a three-year-old girl and had taken her to The Basement right after she had her to meet Henry. I swear his faith in humanity was restored that day. Their daughters are right around the same age, so I think it really hit home for him.

Marissa and his parents planned everything and filled the parlor with the things he liked. A trophy from a fishing competition he had won sits next to a signed football. He was big on sports; pretty much anything that was on. I remember one time I had all of the guys over to watch the Super Bowl. He was the loudest one in the place. Unfortunately, he was a Chief’s fan, so it didn’t matter who else was playing, the rest of us rooted for them and left Henry to hoot and yell for the Chief’s by himself. He thought it was hilarious.

They have a projector screen showing pictures of him from his life. All the way from when he was a baby, to a few weeks ago. The last few pictures being of him and us, before one final picture of him, Marissa, and their kids. A picture of him and Zeke blowing up gasoline cans for fun, another one of Carter and Henry fishing together, and then one of me and him fixing up his truck. He was only twenty-five, but he knew exactly what he wanted in life. To make a difference and come home to a family every night. He did both of those things with pride.

The first part of the funeral is with all of us. A separate portion for all who knew he was with Devil’s Hands, and other friends and family later this afternoon. Marissa wants me to speak in front of everyone, thinking I’ll know what to say. Honestly, I don’t have a clue. Plus, she wants me to announce the new housing development for the girls we rescue, and I’m not so sure about it.

I’ve never been bad at public speaking; this just feels different. I know deep down this isn’t my fault. I didn’t shoot him in the chest, but I held onto him as he died. I told him to hold on for Marissa, that I’d get him to her, but he knew better at that moment. That’s been one of the hardest moments in my life; watching the life drain from his eyes, and then telling her that his last words were that he loved her. Seeing the gruesome pain in her eyes.

He was a grown man, and made his own choices, but I felt responsible for him. Just like I do all of my men. Maybe it’s because a good portion of them are my real family. Maybe Dad is right. Maybe they shouldn’t work for me. For this…

It normally feels good to do what we do, but today is different. Today feels heavy. I sit in the third pew with my little wolf, Danielle and her boyfriend, Zander and Kelsey, Melanie and her husband Matt, who’s our lawyer, and Lauren came alone.

She and Daniel have been fighting recently. She won’t tell me what about, but I’m guessing it’s because of this. The possibility of her dying in this fight. It’s not likely, considering she’s almost never close to the action, but with Dust’s escalation, it has everyone on edge.

Carter drove separately, bringing Henry’s belongings from the Basement. He’s going to go back to the house and Serena the moment it’s over, but he wanted to be here. Before we all sat down, he told me about the lack of activity since our attack, and that they seem to be focused on rebuilding. He said he noticed Dranan purchased a new home, as well as some commercial properties he offered money to before his party, but I don’t care right now. I know I should, but I just want to be in the moment for this. I don’t want to focus on the reason he’s dead, I want to celebrate his life.

We watch as a man dressed in robes walks up to the podium. He introduces himself as Pastor Leonard and begins to talk about his life. How active he was as a kid, all of the sports he played in high school, and how he came to meet all of us. When he looks at me and gestures for me to come up, I freeze. Unsure of what to say.

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