They say before you start a war
You better know what you’re fighting for
Well baby, you are all that I adore
If love is what you need, a soldier I will be
Without my permission, a ridiculously helpless smile curves my lips as I listen to the words.
I’m an angel with a shotgun
Fighting til’ the wars won
I don’t care if heaven won’t take me back
I’ll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe
Don’t you know you’re everything I have?
And I, wanna live, not just survive, tonight
“You think he’s going to show?” Logan’s voice comes over the coms in my right ear. He is playing with the strap of his helmet, his eyes are dark shadows, highlighting the blackness I’m feeling inside me.
“Personally, I don’t think he’s that dumb.” I try to focus on our assignment and not the song anymore. But there’s something real in the words – I want to start living. These last 11 years or so I’ve only survived. Maybe it’s selfish, but I want to be happy – and for me, being with Mel is the only way to achieve that.
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too,” Ilkay says over the radio.
Strange how one single moment can change a person’s life forever. In just the blink of an eye, it can happen – one simple act, one wrong choice, a mistake, an accident, or even a deliberate action – an impact on your whole existence, without you having any control to stop it.
And neither can you terminate the rippling aftereffects that keep on shattering your reality over and over again.
Every single person experiences life-changing moments like that. It’s normal.
Sometimes the moment can be the best thing that ever happened to you – like meeting Mel in the haunted house.
Other times the moment fucking sucks.
And all the boys in our group had a few of those sucking hellish moments. The ones that chew up your soul and spit it out in hell – all broken and bruised.
We rarely discuss it. But we know it’s there – demons – concealed in the shadows of our souls – hidden away from the rest of the world by whichever barrier we choose to set up. These barriers differ – each of us has our own coping mechanisms.
But our demons are what draws us together. Maybe broken souls recognize broken souls.
My first dark moment was the day my sister died.
The brothers found the mutilated body of their mother and also experienced some abuse by their grandfather.
Axel? Well, he had a shitty childhood with an abusive stepfather – and I’m sure there is much more to his story than I know.
It doesn’t actually matter where the demons come from, but that they are there. Each one in the group has a different way of keeping them at bay – to deal with the shit – sex; fights; exercise; living on the edge; doing stunt videos; work; more sex and more fights.
If one of us gets too close to the edge, or falls into the darkness, the others will find a way to bring him back from the pits of despair. We will walk through hell for each other. We’ve done it many times before, and we will certainly do it again.
We’re existing. But I’m not sure if any of us is truly happy.
The point is that we manage to survive. But we’re not living. And we don’t even know it.
I’ve only discovered how it feels to be alive these last couple of days. Since kissing Mel, my whole existence has become brighter. Better. More beautiful.
It’s as if she floods the darkness inside my soul with a brilliant fluorescent glow that spreads warmth and happiness through my whole being. It’s hard to explain.
The closest I can get is that my gray-scale world suddenly exploded with color. Like that troll movie … where the boy sings and all the true colors seep back – it’s exactly just like that.
I hope that my friends will understand this. She’s my way out of the monotone shithole of darkness. I just need to make sure I don’t fuck it up.
Headlights swerve down the street and forewarn us that a car is coming. We put on our helmets when a dark car drives into sight and stops nose-to-nose with the SUV.
It keeps on the lights. All the frustrated tension sweeps back into my body.
The guards in our vehicle get out, sheltering themselves behind their doors, and aim their guns at the parked car.
“Okay, boys, here we go.” Uncle John’s voice comes over the radio and he sounds calm and collected. Only he gets out, hands in the air, and moves to the front of their SUV.
A single man gets out of the pickup and joins him. Could it be Scarface? Or maybe D? But my gut tells me it’s not.
“Who are you?” Uncle John asks. We can hear the conversation on our radios. So not Harry then.
“It doesn’t matter, I’m just paid to do a job.” He hands over a package to John.
“It’s a phone. Read the message written on the package.” The guy waits for a response. John reads the message out loud, knowing we can hear it.
“It’s time to face your fate. The guilty ones must surrender so the innocents won’t get harmed. I’ll send you more information on this phone.”
“You can communicate with him on that phone,” the man says.
“Okay, got it,” Uncle John says loud and clear. The man turns around to leave, but then he puts his index finger in the air and turns back.
“Oh, and there’s one more thing. I also have a message for a Damion guy from Mr. Brown … junior.” Brown … it must be D. I clench my hands tight on my handlebars, trying to stay in control, but my stomach turns upside down and my heartbeat races like a bike on the track.