Melancholy

So good I never want to leave.

~*~*~*~

“Tana, wake up.”

My mind is a foggy mess as I hear the voice, distant, in my mind. I groan, shoving the cold, clammy hand on my face away. I want to sleep. I’m tired. My body is tired. I’m cold.

“Tana, please.”

Whimpering.

I blink my eyes open, but all I see is a blurred figure in front of me. I blink some more. My head is pounding, and my entire body hurts. Why do all things that feel good have to hurt so much after?

“Pippa?” I croak.

“I’m sick, Tana. I’m sick.”

Sick.

I feel sick right now, too.

I push up onto my elbows, staring over at my little sister. She’s pale, really pale, and she’s got chunks of vomit covering her shirt. My eyes widen and I stand quickly, too quickly. My head spins, and I reach out to steady myself, using the wall as my strong hold.

“What . . . Why are you sick? Did you eat something bad?” I groan.

God, my head is pounding.

“I just feel sick, and then I started throwing up. I tried to wake you so many times.”

Her voice hitches, and my entire body shakes with emotion as I realize I’ve let her down.

“I’m sorry, Pippi,” I whisper. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I lead her out of the room and down the halls. I reach the bathroom and gasp. There’s vomit everywhere. “Oh, Pippi.”

“I tried to keep it in the toilet, but I just . . . it was coming so hard, Tana.”

“It’s okay,” I murmur. “I’ll get it.”

I slowly walk out and gather up a bucket and sponge. Then I head back in. Pippa is looking a little less pale, but she’s still clutching her stomach. I lower my aching body to my hands and knees, and start to clean up the mess. My stomach turns violently, and before I know it, my own vomit rises and joins hers on the floor.

It’s at that exact moment I know I’ve let my life spiral out of control.

I know because my sister is sick, and instead of taking care of her, I’m suffering in my own self-inflicted world of pain.

I’ve failed her.

CHAPTER FIVE

2014 – Santana

I get out of the hospital early the next morning. Maddox is there to collect me, and he doesn’t say a word as I hobble out with my bag. He’s angry at me—I know he is. He doesn’t like the idea of Alec, and I don’t like the idea that it hurts him. But he’s not yet once told me he regrets being with Ash, or even that he wants anything from me. I can’t play games.

“Get on my bike, throw your bag to Mack,” he grunts.

“Maddox,” I begin, but his hand shoots up in front of my face.

“Don’t.”

“You’re angry at me, and I don’t understand why. You were with Ash and Krypt, at the same damned time, and now you’re angry because I’m going on a date?”

“I said, fuckin’ don’t,” he warns, his voice a low, lethal hiss.

“Jesus,” I snap. “Fine. You broody, arrogant—”

He cuts me off with a look so deadly, my mouth snaps closed. I say nothing more; I just get on his bike, tossing my pack at Mack who is watching the two of us argue. He catches it with one hand, throwing it in his side pannier.

I get on the back of Maddox’s bike; my leg stretches and pulls, burning slightly. Maddox gets on in front of me, starting the bike without another word.

I hesitate, not wanting to put my arms around him. With a grunt, he reaches back and jerks my hands forward until they’re curled around him. I grit my teeth as he pulls out onto the road, waving for the guys to follow. There are ten or so bikers with us, for protection purposes, no doubt. They surround him as he rides, ensuring that if shots are fired, they have to go through them first.

We arrive at his house, and another four bikers are already outside, watching to make sure no one came past while Maddox was gone. They’ll trail me wherever I go now, and that’s the sucky part of being protected by a club. When shit goes down, you can’t get rid of them.

I get off Maddox’s bike, but his hand lashes out, curling around my wrist and holding me still. He turns to Tyke and Rhyder, and barks, “The house good?”

“Good Prez, checked every inch, and there ain’t no one come past.”

Maddox gives a sharp nod and lets me go. I throw the pack Mack hands me over my shoulder, ignoring his smirk. I trudge past the bikers—well, I hobble past, and head inside. The house is clean, surprisingly. My guess is Ash and possibly some of the Old Ladies have come around and cleaned it.

Ignoring the voices below, I got straight to my room. I drop my bag onto the bed and sit down. I shove my jeans down over my hips and flick them off. I need a decent shower – I feel...stale. Staring down at the bandage on my calf, I frown. I already know it’s going to leave a good scar, and God it hurts.

I stretch it out a little, and then finish undressing. I disappear into my bathroom, closing the door softly. The moment I step in and the warm water hits my skin, is like heaven. I’ve missed it. I wash my hair twice, exfoliate my skin, and then get out. I dry my hair, and pull a towel around myself.

When I step out, I see Maddox right away. He’s at the door, staring at me. His big arms are across his chest. He narrows his eyes when he sees I’ve showered, and mutters, “Are you supposed to get that wet?” He nods his head in the direction of my leg.

I shrug. “It’s fine, the dressing is waterproof.”