Slay (Storm MC 4)

I threw my pen down on the desk. “Fuck, Merrick, when does the fucking blood end?”

He stared at me in shock. “What?”

“Do you ever get sick of the shit we do? Of the bloody battlefield it feels like some days?”

“You know I do, Blade, but you also know as well as I do that we can’t walk away from that fucking battlefield. We made the decision years ago to help those girls, and we’ve worked fucking hard to keep that good in the world. There’s no turning back now, unless you’re willing to throw them to the wolves again.”

“Fuck!” I roared, and shoved my chair back.

“What the hell has gotten into you, Blade?” Merrick stood as well, his forehead creased with worry.

“Every-fucking-thing. I’m fucking stuck, and I don’t know how to escape it.”

He watched me silently. “Shit.”

I clenched my fists at my side. “Yeah. Shit.”

“She’s gotten to you, hasn’t she?” he asked, quietly.

All the thoughts racing in my mind came to a halt. “Yes.”

“But you’re holding back from her, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, Merrick, how the hell do you read my fucking mind like that?”

“Blade, we’ve known each other since we were fucking kids. Twenty years of friendship will do that shit to you. You’re an unpredictable bastard to most people, but, to me, you’re like the back of my fucking hand.”

I glared at him. “So tell me, how the fuck do I get my shit back under control?”

He smiled. “You let it all go.”

“What?”

“Go to her, and let yourself go. Give yourself to her. If she’s half the woman I suspect she is, she’ll take that shit and put you back together.”

The chaos of my mind eased as I considered what he’d said.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe the way forward was to revisit the past and deal with that shit once and for all.

***

I didn’t go to Layla.

I drove around for hours before finally going home.

And I slept.

For hours.

I woke to my phone ringing in the darkness.

Two am.

Layla.

I answered it but struggled to form words so remained silent.