Page 39 of Hawk's Cry

Dad returns with the medication, then leaves, saying he’ll be back in the morning. Drummer relieves me from my sentry position, telling me I need rest myself.

But in my bed, I turn my face into the pillow to stop Drummer hearing me cry. All I can see is my husband rocking and wailing in that gutter and remember feeling so helpless when there was nothing I could do for him.

I don’t feel much better now.

Chapter Fourteen

Eli…

I’ve just woken with my mouth feeling dry, and my bladder full, but I lie still trying to remember just how badly I’ve fucked up.

Yesterday I did something so stupid I groan just thinking about it. My memory is hazy, which is a blessing. I can recall waking with the thoughts that I was an immense failure, and how that is affecting my wife and I couldn’t shake them. My uppermost concern was that I didn’t want sex.

I’d toyed with the idea that I’d become bored with Liv, that maybe I was born to be like my father, unsatisfied unless I was fucking everything in sight. Unlike him, I’d only experienced one pussy. My memory is that hadn’t left me unsatisfied, so why don’t I want her anymore? Why doesn’t the sight of her make me hard? Why have I no desire to see her under her clothes? Is it that she’s pregnant? Is it me, or her?

Yesterday I’d seriously thought about going into town and finding a whore and seeing what, if anything, I’d been missing, but the thought hadn’t made my dick do anything other than lie limp against my thigh. But still I rode into town, thinking maybe if I see someone I like, my bike and my leathers—now looking naked without the club patches—would be enough to get me a ride of a different type. At the very least it would prove whether my cock was still working.

It was a half-hearted idea, and one which I found I couldn’t follow through. Oh, I’d seen a few pretty girls, but none that made my cock stir.

It’s me, not her, I’d thought as I rode. Here I was, a twenty-five-year-old man in my prime, and I couldn’t get it up anymore. I’d ridden aimlessly, eventually coming across an adult store. I’d stopped. What spurred me on, I don’t understand, but suddenly I was focused on going inside. Maybe adding toys into our sex life would bring back the spark?

But the more I walked around looking at stuff stocked on the shelves and hanging on the walls, the lower I’d become. Nothing was turning me on. Handcuffs? Nah. The thought of restraining Liv, not exciting at all. Ass play? Nah, though I used to like it as I recall. Vibrators? Gag? Hell no, I liked what she could do with her mouth and those little sounds she’d make while I was fucking her. Or, at least, I had.

When I realised I was getting odd looks, I began to pick up some items without really thinking what they were, how I’d feel using them or whether they’d give Liv pleasure.

I’d paid. At least I was functioning sufficiently to do that.

That’s the last thing I remember. I think I blacked out. I’d been only vaguely conscious of people arriving. My dad and Olivia’s had been a surprise. The journey back to this house—I can’t call it home, it doesn’t yet feel like that—is a blur. I didn’t analyse why Drummer and Wraith had turned up—part of me wondered whether I was dreaming.

All I remember thinking is that I can’t go on like this.

Is eating a bullet the answer?

I can’t leave Liv alone.

No, I can’t do that. Not when she’s having my kid.

How the fuck will I be a father?

The feelings of being a failure I had woken with began to overwhelm me. The thought of speaking to anyone, too much. My head feels like it’s imploding. This life is like a carnival ride and I want to get off, but the roller coaster keeps moving, and no one will make it stop.

I vaguely remember Amy trying to talk to me, but I was unable to answer so I let Liv speak on my behalf. Then there was a man asking questions, but his voice droned on, and I gave him the response that usually shuts people up. He’d given me a shot, and I became woozy and sleepy.

For the first time in months, powered by medication, I slept all night.

What worries me is that my memories of the day before are so clouded, I don’t think I was in control of what I did. What if I hurt Olivia? What if I hurt my kid?

I can’t summon the energy to face the day ahead. I’ve no explanations to offer if anyone asks me. I’d gotten rid of that man—he was a doctor, wasn’t he?—by coming up with some club business excuse, but honestly, it was an instinctive response. I can’t have anyone probing. I’ve been trained from birth not to share with outsiders anything about the club. And my life’s tied up in it as much as anyone’s could be. Even though I’m no longer a member, I won’t betray my family.

I’d like to lie hiding under the bedcovers forever, but my need to piss is all-consuming. Unless I wet the bed like a kid, I’m going to have to move, and going to the bathroom means I might run into Liv.

I open my eyes, stretching automatically, yawning and simultaneously farting.

“Fuck, some things never change.”

Abruptly I turn my head, my eyes glaring on the man chuckling. It’s my dad, and I wonder why he’s here, and why he’s amused and not still angry with me for shitting on everything he’s ever lived for. But some things take precedence over satisfying my curiosity.

I sit up, feeling groggy as though I’ve got a hangover. “I need to piss.”

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