Journey (Soulless Kings MC: Marble Falls, TX #2)

8. Wren

CHAPTER 8

WREN

Might as well get used to being alone.

“Press one to accept this call.”

I stare at the screen, wondering what the hell I was thinking when I answered the call. I’ve managed to avoid most contact with my father since his trial, and I’d be smart to keep it that way.

Then why’d you fucking answer?

Instead of pressing one, I disconnect the call and drop my phone onto the coffee table like I’m playing a game of Hot Potato and the song has ended. My heart thumps in my chest, and my hands become clammy.

“No,” I whisper. “No, no, no.”

My vision blurs, and the voices in my head get louder. I know what that means, and I have to stop it. Leah’s coming over, and the last time an alter was fronting around a friend, I became a laughing stock.

I spent years not understanding why I’d lose time and why people would treat me with familiarity when I had no clue who they were. Moving from one foster home to another because the parents were afraid of me didn’t help either.

Broken, fractured, crazy… You name it, I’ve likely been called it.

Then I aged out of the system and found Dr. Young. She put a name to what was happening to me: Dissociative Identity Disorder. Apparently, watching my dad bludgeon my mom and brother to death was so traumatic that my mind splintered into different personalities in order to protect itself.

Dr. Young gave me hope when I needed it the most. Without her, I’d probably be six feet under. I wouldn’t say that life is easy by any stretch of the imagination, but she’s helped me understand what’s going on and taught me ways to process stressful situations to reduce the risk of switching.

I breathe in and out slowly, counting to seven with every inhale and exhale. Soon, my vision clears, and I’m completely myself again. The voices are still there, but they’re quieter, calmer.

Thirteen.

That’s the number of people living rent-free in my head.

Thirteen different personalities, each one keeping me safe from one thing or another.

Thirteen alters who take control of my body when they perceive a threat.

I wish I knew them, understood them, could regulate them. I’m trying. Therapy and medication help, but I don’t think it’s something that will ever completely go away. Which means lost time, amnesia, and a host of other problems that can arise, all because of being dealt a shitty hand in the father department.

A knock on the door startles me, reminding me I have plans for tonight. It’d probably be smart to cancel, considering the stress of my dad trying to reach out, but fuck it.

Leah frowns when I open the door and she sees what I’m wearing. I glance down and take in my leggings and flimsy old t-shirt before smiling lopsided at her.

“I’m changing,” I assure her.

“Thank God.” Leah comes in when I step aside. “I mean, you look adorable, but I don’t think that’s the vibe you want to project during a night on the town.”

“Definitely not.”

Ten minutes later, we’re walking out the door, and I’m dressed in tight jeans, black strappy sandals, and a cobalt blue tank. We take my car since I don’t drink as much as Leah due to my issues , and she talks nonstop on the way to the bar.

“I wonder if he’ll be here again,” she muses as I park.

“Who?”

“Have you been listening at all?” she demands with a huff of laughter. “That biker guy.”

“Journey?”

“No, the other one,” she says. “Jackyl.”

“Oh.”

As we walk inside, she throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. “You really liked that guy, didn’t you?”

“Jackyl?”

“No, Journey.” We reach the bar, and she lifts her hand to get the bartender’s attention. “Can I get a gin and tonic?”

“And you?” the bartender asks me.

“Just a Coke, please.” Leah gives me a look, and I shrug. “I’m driving.”

The truth is, there’s too much going on in my head tonight to risk consuming any alcohol. The last thing I wanna do is trigger a switch here.

“You can have at least one,” she counters.

“I’m good. Really.”

“Suit yourself.”

As soon as we have our drinks, we make our way to a high-top table that gives us the best view of the door. Not two minutes pass, and it swings open.

“He’s here!” she exclaims, but then her expression falls. “But it looks like he’s alone.”

Jackyl steps inside, letting the door slam closed behind him. Any hope that Journey would be with him vanishes. The biker scans the crowd, and when his eyes land on us, he grins.

He strides across the room, pulling his cell out of his pocket as he walks. He appears to type a text before putting it away.

“Fancy meeting you ladies here,” he says when he’s within earshot.

Leah bats her eyelashes, shamelessly flirting without a single word. Jackyl takes her glass from her and sets it on the table. Then he grabs her hand and practically drags her onto the dance floor.

“Yeah, uh, I’ll just wait here,” I mumble to no one in particular.

Might as well get used to being alone.