Page 30 of Micro
Unknown:Another club gunning for you. See you as a weak link, easy to crush. Attack coming from Rogue Riders, Hampshire.
Again we watched the biker reading the message, and this time he definitely said the word ‘fuck’, and tossed a coffee mug across the room. Micro chuckled, pointing at the screen.
“He’s like this all the time, like you could wish him happy birthday and he’d get pissy. I actually kinda liked him for that. I think he got crankier when he got clean too.”
The guy lifted his phone to his ear, and I managed to lipread the word ‘problem’, but that was all I got.
“That’ll be him calling the Pres, to tell him the shit’s hitting the fan again.” He sounded oddly wistful, like he missed club life, or maybe even people from this club specifically.
“Who did you stab?” I asked, full of curiosity, before I realised how intrusive that was. I lifted my hand as he stared at me in shock. “Ignore me, that’s not my business.”
Micro turned his eyes back to the screen, and his breath left him in a rush. He pointed to a figure leaning closer to the screen, and pissing off the biker he’d messaged.
“Him. Torch. Jesus, we were like best mates. It fucking killed me that he turned up at the wrong time like that.”
Micro
Fuck,seeingtheirfaceswas like being kicked in the guts, because the last time I saw any of them, I was pretty much on trial, or the biker version of it, and likely to die. I hadn’t realised just how much I missed some of them, and that feeling of home, until now. Not that being here with Soph wasn’t fucking awesome, because it was, but I’d grown up within a biker club, and it was all I’d known. A part of me wished I was back there, only with Soph as my old lady. Would she have me if things had gone that way? Would she be wearing my name right now?
“I need to ask you something, and I’m terrified of the answer, but I need to know.”
I knew exactly what she was going to ask, but I nodded, even though I felt like she had my balls in a vice right now. Would she believe the truth, or let Reaper’s fucking words play on her so much that she wouldn’t believe anything I said?
“Did you really rape someone?”Fuck. It still sucked to hear her ask, even though I was expecting the question from her, pretty much had been waiting for it since that fucker outed me to her.
I looked at the screen, seeing multiple bikers moving around by Ice now, while he got more and more pissed at them. I pointed at the former brothers on the screen.
“Ask them that question, and they’ll say, yeah, I’m a rapist. Does the truth even matter at this point?” Sophie rested a tentative hand on mine, and it was her injured wrist, so I didn’t risk rejecting her touch, in case I hurt it even more.
“It matters to me, Micro.”
I tapped a few keys, and pulled up the article I’d read a dozen times since it happened. The smiling picture alongside those awful words still made me flinch, because I’d been the one to wipe that smile off her face for good.
“This is Chrissy. She is…was… the one I’d seen at the club, who slept with a few of my brothers, but never me. I was… I thought I was in love with her. I would have done anything to be with her, so one night, after my brothers had paired off, and she was feeling lonely, she agreed to go somewhere with me, you know… to fuck. Obviously to fuck.” I could still remember how fucking elated I felt, how even the hate I’d been feeling for Reacher and Stitch had dissipated, when she spoke to me. Would things have played out differently, if she’d actually wanted me, and gave me a chance? I’d never know now.
“Micro?” I was really starting to love the sound of my name on her lips, and I’d never really been fond of it, until now.
“I thought she might give me a chance, you know, get to know me and think maybe I was worth it or something.” I clenched my fists, watching the screen again to avoid her eyes, seeing Ice suddenly notice that his webcam was active, flipping his middle fingers at me, before it was covered up with something.
“She lowered herself to be with me. Those were her words. She wasn’t into me, but she ‘lowered herself’, because she was pissed that Ry and Has didn’t pick her for their old lady. I would have, in a fucking heartbeat, but she, uh, yeah, she said I was worthless, and weak, and,”fuck me, I’m gonna say it, “I tried to shut her up, because she was saying all the things that I’d been accused of growing up, and I could hear my dad’s voice in my head, telling me I was shit, and suddenly she wasn’t breathing. I couldn’t revive her, and I panicked. I left her out there, and went home to spend the night throwing up, and convincing myself I should own up to the cops.”
Sophie was still touching my hand, ignoring the tears I could feel running down my cheeks.
“What stopped you?” She wasn’t accusing me, she was gently asking, like she knew there had to be a reason.
“They linked it to some rapes and murders in the local area, even though it wasn’t rape, I swear. Suddenly, if I’d owned up, I knew they’d have pinned them all on me somehow, but the others weren’t me. It was killing me to know that I did that to her, and I think something in me just fucking fractured. I’d killed the woman I thought I loved, so anything else I did would pale in comparison to that. Nothing else mattered. If I could at least avenge my dad, I could go out having achieved one thing.” Didn’t fucking work like that though, did it? I hurt people who were never involved in killing him, and destroying the club, and they were right to do it. That was the shocking truth. He deserved to die, and how I didn’t reach that understanding right after he let Skull take me somewhere remote, knowing what he’d do to me, I had no idea.
“Micro, look at me,” Sophie whispered, and I fought the urge to hide from her, because what would I see, disgust, hatred, horror? Any of those things would be possible, because she knew some of it now. Not even all of it. Shit, I should make sure she knows every evil thing I did, before she shows me any more kindness.
“Please,” she added, squeezing my hand gently. I forced my head up, dragging my free hand across my eyes, to remove the blur of those shameful tears.
“Men don’t cry,”I murmured, almost like a reflex, because it had been beaten into me all my life.
“That’s bullshit,” she said sharply, dragging my eyes to hers, despite everything.
“Huh?”
“Men do and can cry. They should. They should be able to release their pain, and their emotions, just like women seem to be allowed to. I know there are differences between us, but underneath it all, we’re souls. We can be hurt, and broken, and afraid, but why should only those of us with tits get to let it out?”
