Page 19 of The Devil's Weakness

Shooting him a look of irritation, I slap my last two twenties on the counter and storm out. I remember the black truck from earlier and stop in my tracks. Looking around nervously, I search the parking lot for it, but it’s nowhere to be found.

I must have been imagining things. All this running and hiding is going to cause me to have a nervous breakdown. But I’d still be better off than that biker. The Devil’s Skull may scare me to death, but that doesn’t keep me from feeling sorrow for the man I hit.

* * *

I’ve spentthe past several hours flipping through the channels on the television, going from one shitty station to the next. I’m starving, and my stomach feels like it’s going to eat itself. I have five dollars in my wallet and no chance of withdrawing any money without giving away my whereabouts.

I've hardly been gone long, but the ache of loneliness and despair I feel over the situation I’m in is stronger than the fear of facing the sentence I’m running from. I miss my bed. I miss my brother. I miss Ellie. Shit, I almost miss Toni and her clones.

Almost.

For the first time in averylong time, I think about my mother. She was a horrible person who cared more about her next hit than her family. I swore I would be nothing like her, but look at me. I’ve gone and done the same thing, abandoning my brother.

I don’t know if she’s still alive or not. The only letter I ever sent her was returned, unopened. I know she lived at that house at one point because she called Dad to beg him for money, and he was able to drag her whereabouts out of her. He told her the only way he was going to give her money is if he brought it to her himself.

Of course, he never planned on giving her anything except a guilt trip. He went after her to bring her home, but by the time he got there, she was gone. At least that’s what the neighbor said.

Through it all, he never fell out of love with her. I always pitied him for that. I spoke so badly of Mom to him, to the point where I know I hurt him, but I never said anything that wasn’t true. If there’s one thing I learned from my mother, it’s that the truth hurts sometimes, but it’s better than someone lying to you all the time like she did.

I don’t know why she continued the lies even when she knew we didn’t believe her. Did she do it to try and alleviate her own guilt? I doubt it. I don’t think narcissists can feel guilt. When she left, where did she go first? Did she hole up in a shitty motel like this one, wondering where she went wrong? Did she try to pinpoint the moment when she realized her life as she knew it was over?

Probably not.

That’s not how narcissists think.

They’re the lucky ones who can make their way through life without one fucking care in the world.

Me, on the other hand? My guilt is crushing me where I lie.

I’m not a runner. I’ve always faced life head-on, no matter how scary it was.

Maybe I’m blowing this all out of proportion. That biker, I didn’t hit him that hard. Maybe the wind got knocked out of him, which is why he couldn’t move or talk. Maybe he’s mostly recovered with a few bumps and bruises. And maybe that’s wishful thinking, but this isn’t me. I need to go home and deal with this, no matter the outcome.

I check the clock.

4:16 P.M.

The dinner rush at the diner will be starting soon. As much as I’d love to get back home tonight, the staff is already stretched thin with me gone. I don’t want to call Ellie away and have them downanotherperson. Steve is my only other option, but I’d rather he stay home with Michael than come get me right now. Michael is always harder to deal with in the afternoon and evening. He sleeps most of the day away, but when he’s up, he’s taking hit after hit until he passes out for the night again. That’s the scariest part. I never know when he’s going to overdo it. Steve needs to stay with him tonight. God forbid he needs to call an ambulance for Michael, but at least he’ll be there should that happen.

I’ll wait until tomorrow morning, and then I’ll call one of them. As much as I hate being an inconvenience, I know both of them would drop everything to help me.

I laugh dryly at the thought.

Yesterday, I couldn’t wait for the chance to get out of Whispering Valley. Today, I’d give anything to get back.

Chapter Six

After Capand I finished going through Sasha’s apartment last night, we went back to the clubhouse. Stone had sent word of her throughout the biker network, and we waited impatiently for confirmation that someone had seen her. Around three-thirty this morning, a call came in from a member of one of the West Virginia Clubs about a car matching the description we put out. They confirmed the VIN, and it matched what was on the printout of her registration card that I got from Turner.?

He told us he found it parked in front of room number eleven at the Mountain Side Motel near Berkeley Springs. Once we got the address, Cap and I hopped into my truck and high-tailed it out of there. The first thing we did when we got here was hot wire her car, which Cap drove back home while I stayed behind to wait for her. I could have busted down her door then and there, but I didn’t. When I do, the illusion I’ve created for myself over the past two years—that she could actually have feelings for someone like me—will be shattered.

I filled the next several hours with thoughts of exactly what I’m going to do and say to her when I see her. Thoughts of how she would react when she realized who came for her.

A few more thoughts involving the purple silk thong in my pocket...

When I finally come up for air and force the ball-aching fantasy of Sasha in my bed from my mind, I realize how late it is. It’s nearly lunchtime, but there’s been no sign of her yet. I thought she’d want to get a jump on another long day of living on the run. As a bad feeling seeps into my skin, I wonder if she’s even inside. What if she abandoned her car here and hitched a ride out of town?

Fuck.

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