Night Sky (Satan's Sinners MC Book 3) (21 page)

We lay him softly onto his bed and I hope to hell we didn't hurt him worse. Doc looks him over thoroughly, then tells us, “Writer doesn't seem to have any broken bones, just some scrapes and bruises.” We all wait in his room until there is a knock at the door, and when Pretty Boy opens it, in walks Dr. Greene with her ultrasound machine.

I look to Bear, cocking an eyebrow and he just gives a shrug of his shoulder. “Dr. Greene,” I acknowledge in greeting and when I meet her eyes, they are on Writer.

“Um...hey, Hanger. Can I ask what happened to him?” Confusion clear on her face.

“He was in an accident, wrecked his bike.”

“Then he probably needs to go to the hospital. Why was I called? I'm an OBGYN.”

“Bear, you wanna answer that because I am wondering the same.” Everyone looks over at Bear, waiting to hear his explanation.

“I called you because we can't take him to the hospital. He most likely has a lot of drugs in his system and if they piss tested him or gave him a blood test, it could bring heat on the club. Jacey told me that you used to be an E.R. doctor before dealing with pregnant women.” I look at her and her face pales, like she has seen a ghost, before recovering and nodding her head. Bear then adds, “I thought maybe you could look at him.”

“Uh, yeah sure. I can look him over.” Dr. Greene touches and moves Writer's legs and arms before feeling on his ribs. She checks his head and neck and anywhere else she might think he could have broke something. In much the same way Doc did, and then she hooks up her machine.

Doc goes over, turning the light off as we wait to see what she says. “He doesn't appear to have any broken bones, the blood is just from scrapes. It doesn't look like there is any internal bleeding so he should be fine. He got really lucky. He could have killed himself. Do you know what drugs he has taken?”

“No,” I reply.

“I would say that he is just passed out from whatever he took. He doesn't seem to be under any distress, so give him some time to come to. Maybe it's time for some kind of rehab.”

“Thank you doctor, we'll handle it from here. What do we owe you for coming here and can we keep this between us?”

“You're welcome and I'm happy to help so this one is on me. Doctor confidentiality, I'm not at liberty to say anything, so don't worry about that. If you see any changes in him or he seems to get worse, get him to the emergency room.”

“Will do doctor, thanks again,” I tell her as I walk her out. We get to the bar and all the guys are sitting around. Hacker gets up and walk towards us. Dr. Greene stops suddenly, with her face paling again when she sees him.

“What the fuck are you doing in my club again?” Anger radiates off of Hacker as his legs spread, arm cross over chest and he stares the good doctor down.

“I was just leaving.” Her voice sounds so quiet different then when we were in Writer's room or in her doctor office.

“Hacker?” I question because what the fuck is it with him and this doctor? There was a problem when she came to see Lil Mama too. His angry eyes never leave her.

“Stay the fuck out of it, Hanger.” She goes to step around him, but he blocks her. “I said what the fuck are you doing in my club?”

“Please, just let me go,” Dr. Greene begs.

It's my time to step in. “Hacker, get the fuck out of the way and let her leave. I won't tell you again.”

He takes a step back before saying, “You don't come here again if you do, you won't be leaving so easily. Understood?” She hightails it out of the club and I look at my brother, who finally turns his narrowed eyes to me. “If she was here because of Writer, you'll be lucky if he don't die.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? When has it ever been okay to threaten a woman? You get your shit together, brother. This isn't just your club, and if she can help, then she will. You talk to her like that again, you will be dealing with me. Understood?”

I don't wait for his answer before stomping back to Writer's room. We wait until he starts to stir before we pick him up and haul him down to the holding cellar.

WRITER

Sorry by Buckcherry

I slowly open my eyes and look around the room. I'm not in my bedroom, where the fuck am I? The dangling light barely lets me see anything, but I can make out the cement walls, the dirt floor, and the small torn up cot I am on. I sit up quickly, knowing that I am in the holding cellar at the clubhouse.

Why the fuck am I here?

As soon as I get up, my head pounds and I'm dizzy, which causes me to sway a bit. I can still feel the pills within my system affecting my senses. I can see dried blood coating my skin, and bruises, but I don't feel any pain. Someone gets up from a chair in the corner and when he gets close enough, I can tell it's Hanger.
Why am I down here?

Do you remember anything?

No, what happened?
I ask a little scared of what I did to land me here. This is where we keep the rats, our enemies, the women beaters, anyone that needs to die by our hands. Oh fuck, he did tell me he would kill me if I jeopardized the club. Is that what happened? Did I do something to the club and now they are gonna kill me? Oh God, and Ever! I wasted all this time with her, I'm going to die and I won't have a chance to work shit out with her. Thoughts race through my head of all the things I should have done.

You stormed out of the clubhouse and ended up having an accident. We had to have a doctor look at you, then we brought you down here,
Hanger informs me, but my memory is blank.

Why did I storm out? It was your reception?

Because you wanted to talk to Ever and she told you no, so you grabbed her arm and I intervened, told you to leave.
I know when I am high, I'm not the nicest guy, but to grab Ever? What the fuck is wrong with me?

Shit, I'm sorry Hanger. Is she okay?

She will be. I think it's time you admit you got a problem, brother. You scared the fuck out of us, seein' you laying on the ground not moving. You could have killed yourself.

But I didn't. How's my bike? Did you bring me down here to kill me, Hanger?

No, I'm not gonna kill you, but by the time we are done, you might wish you were dead. Your bike, well it's fucked. You'll have to get a new one,
he tells me matter of factly, and by the looks of my body, I can just imagine what it looks like.

Now that I know you aren't gonna kill me, how long do I have to fuckin' stay down here?

Until your done detoxing.
Detoxing? I think to myself. I'm not detoxing. There is no way I'm going through that.

You're fuckin' kidding, right? I'm not detoxing, Hanger. How can you even say shit to me when you were getting high too?

‘Were’ is the key word here, Writer. I told you before, I didn't let that shit take control of me like you have. You could be starting your life with Ever right now if you would have just got your shit together, man. You put this club in jeopardy, you fucked off club meetings and business for too long. It can't go on anymore. I won't let it. You will have one of us down here with you at all times.

Hanger, no! Please don't do this,
I start to beg, but he doesn't give a shit.

Sorry, brother, but it has to be done.
He goes to sit back in the chair while I plop back down onto the cot, thinking about what the hell I'm going to do.

★★★

I want to die! Hanger was right, I'm never left alone. It's either him, Bear, or Romeo with me at all times. Not only do I have pain from the withdrawals, but also pain from the accident. I don't know which is worse. I wish they would just put a fuckin' bullet in my head and end it all.

They brought buckets down here for my puke, piss, and shit to go into. Any other time, I would feel bad that they would have to clean up after me, but I can't bring myself to care right now. I even think this is what they fuckin' deserve for doing this shit to me. I have begged and fought trying to get them to let me out, but they won't.

Romeo brought blankets for me because the cold chills have my body shaking uncontrollably. The night sweats leave me cold and freezing it doesn't help that there isn't heat down in this fuckin' hellhole. Always so fuckin' cold, I don’t want to be cold anymore. I guess I should be happy they are treating me better than the fuckers we have kept down here. I'm not happy though and right now I hate everyone.

The first day I tried to fight them all to get out of here while I was still affected by the pills. Once they wore off and I had used up all of my energy I couldn't do anything, but wait for the unbearable struggle to come.

Bear was the first with me when the withdrawals and the pain started taking over. I resorted to begging. He was sitting in the chair that Hanger had been using. I got on my hands and knees, crawling over to where I was in front of him. I clung to his legs and used my voice, even though I couldn't hear myself.

“Bear, please brother, let me out of here. The accident, I need some help, I need to make it stop.” I know he heard me because when my tear soaked eyes looked up at him, I could see a few of his own rolling down his cheeks. I thought to myself, maybe I'm getting through to him. “Please let me out. I can't do this, the pain, it's too much.”

Writer, I can't let you out of here. I have seen it before, what you are going through. You will say whatever you need to so you can get high, but we can't let it happen anymore. You have to get clean. Look at yourself.
His look of disgust had me falling to my ass in defeat. Bear turned his head away from me so he wouldn't have to see how pathetic I had become. I crawled back over to the cot and huddled in the corner, willing the pain to stop.

By the time Romeo got down here to take over, I was worse. I scratched at my already battered and bruised skin so much that fresh droplets of blood were rising to the surface on my arms and legs. I can't stop though, I keep scratching and digging, trying to relieve some of the pain. I just want something to take away the fuckin' pain.

I have made it now to the end of the first week. Every bone in my body hurts, every muscle aches, and my skin crawls with the need to get something, anything, in my system. It hasn't eased up any from that first day. In fact, I think it has gotten worse.

I spend my days crying and my nights screaming out in agony. The guys bring down buckets of hot water to cleanse me of my own vomit and shit. I have messed myself more than once because I don’t have the strength to make it to the buckets. I am too weak to do anything besides lay here and even that hurts. They have freed me of the blood that was caked to my skin and the bruising in now turning to a yellowish color.

The guys have a routine now. I get Hanger in the mornings until afternoon. Bear from afternoon until night and then Romeo overnight. Since I can't tell what time of the day or shit, even what day it is, they let me know. I think it is their way of making conversation with me, but I don't reply, I just stare at them and wonder how they could do this to me.

Each of them will bring down a tray of food for me. I don't know why, it's not like I can eat the shit. I have been vomiting and shitting my guts out the last week, what the fuck would make them think I can eat? They sit the tray on the bed, then I grab it and throw it against a wall, wasting everything I am sure Crazy Girl made me.

I need just a little something to ease it, to take the pain away. Take away the aching, the nausea, and the cold sweats. I just want to sleep. I'm fuckin' exhausted and the depression is coming in full force. Sometimes I think it would be better if I just offed myself than have to go through this. I lay here on this disgusting cot, a fuckin' mess, and I swear to Christ if I don't kill myself that the detox will. I can't survive this! That's when the anger kicks in because I am angry and hate everyone for doing this to me. No one is trying to help me! Hanger couldn't kill me so he left me down here to die a miserable, torturing, slow death.

★★★

I am done with week two! I made it two weeks so far. I didn't think I would, but I did. I made it through the vomiting and diarrhea, the shaking and cold sweats, and almost all of the pain is gone. I'm still pretty weak and I can't eat yet, but I am glad the other symptoms are done.