Hero (The VII Knights MC)

“Right, well…what I’m saying is they caught you red-handed…” His eyes fall to my hands, my blood-stained nails. “Why did you do it, Godric?” he whispers, like this is all a fucking act. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hold back the anger licking at my insides.

“Oh, you know, I was tired of her nagging me.”

His eyes widen. “This shit isn’t funny. The club is worried about you.”

“Yeah, no shit,” I mutter under my breath. I’m fucking worried about me.

Izah rubs his hands together before interlocking them on the table.

“I think…” I start, trying to convey what I’m thinking, but I’m at a loss for words. I don’t know what to do: go to prison and never see freedom again or a mental hospital where I probably belong. My temper has always gotten me in trouble. I get pissed, and the adrenaline becomes a drug. I don’t see, feel, or hear anything. I can move, break, and kill anything when my wick is lit. Maybe I really did snap.

“I think this is the best option, Godric.”

Sitting forward in my chair, the cuffs around my wrists jerk the ones wrapped around my fucking ankles. I’m already being treated like an animal, might as well figure out if I deserve it.

“Yeah. I’ll do it.” I glance down at the brown socks and open-toed sandals the department had me change into.

“Good. Let me get things arranged and you should be out of here soon,” Izah says, standing and collecting everything he’d laid out.

I nod, my eyes staying focused on the floor, wondering if these magical doctors will be able to tell me what I did that night. What if they unlock the black fog and a monster within me is set free? Will I be that animal forever?

3

Godric

“I don’t think I asked this before. How did you get that scar on your chest?”

My hand instantly rests over the ugly silver scar imbedded in my left peck, rubbing the shirt over my skin.

“I was taken from my crib when I was a baby. Was found in the desert between L.A. and Arizona. I’d been stabbed. I wasn’t supposed to make it. I was in ICU for over a month.” “Interesting. Who would want to hurt you?” he asks, looking at me with such close intent, it makes me shift in my seat.

“I think the list of who wouldn’t want to kill me would be shorter,” I scoff, and the doctor raises his eyebrow. “My dad is the president of an outlaw club. We have enemies everywhere. When I was born, it was known to everyone in the underground world I would take over the Seven Knights MC.” It could have been a message or a threat. I think it was someone fighting my father for the gavel. Killing his son was a message to step the hell down. Too bad I’m alive and my father became president.

“So, would you say you’ve been subjected to violence all your life?”

Irritation sparks in my chest. When I don’t answer him, he inhales a deep breath and sits back in his seat.

“Godric, tell me, were you involved with other women?” Dr. Buck asks. I’ve been at Highland Heights Mental Facility six months. After the state pressed charges and I was evaluated, I was sent here within twenty-four hours. I must check every box that certifies me as unstable.

Too bad nobody can unlock what lurks in the darkness of my mind. Not even me.

“Yes, I slept with a lot of others. I always have. The club has women coming and going all the time. I do what I want when I want.”

“So, you don’t think she found out and got hostile about it that night, causing you to put your hands on her?” he pushes.

“No.” I silently laugh. “Even if she did find out, she knows the lifestyle. It’s nothing personal or against her.” He looks at me like I’m scum, a punk who treats women like objects. Maybe I do. I never saw it that way until now, though. I saw a pretty woman and did what came natural. I didn’t see myself tied down to just Bella. When I came home to her, the club was left at the front door. Two different worlds.

“You talk like she knew you were sleeping around on her.”

Sitting back in the black leather chair, I rest my hands behind my head.

“I’m sure she did. I didn’t try to hide it.”

Mr. Buck sighs, writing in his notebook. God, I’d love to know what he writes about me. I wonder if he sees me slipping into the shape of a monster with each passing day. I feel like I’m losing my shit every hour I’m in here. I lived blind and oblivious before. Now, I see and feel everything. I’m angry, alone, and can’t predict what mood I’ll be in from one moment to the next. Does he know this?