MC Sinners Boxed Set #1-7

CHAPTER 11 | PAST - CIARA

CHAPTER 11

PAST - CIARA

“ S he’s gone, Ciara, and she’s never coming back. It doesn’t matter what you want right now!” my mother yells, her eyes puffy from crying.

My sister has been gone for six weeks, and we’ve been through hell and back, fighting to get Danny put away. My heart has been ripped out, stomped on, rolled in the dirt, and ground into a thousand pieces during the last few months, and now my parents are refusing to acknowledge my life. They’re grieving, I get that, but they aren’t even trying to let me move on and find my own life. I wanted help with college, but they are refusing to give me money, blaming me entirely for Cheyenne’s death. It’s my fault that she’s gone, because I was the one who befriended Danny. I ran away, instead of fighting to keep them apart like I should have.

“I can’t keep living like this, Mom. I need a life. I need to get into school and try to create something that resembles some kind of normality.”

“Cheyenne is dead!” she cries. “Dead, because of you and that idiot biker. Now I have to live without her. I can never hold her babies. That was my grandchild inside of her, and now he or she is dead, too. I don’t care about your studies, Ciara. You have the chance to do whatever you want, Cheyenne doesn’t. So go and do it!”

It hurts when your own mother has lost her love for you. It hurts because it’s something that can’t be changed. I was always second to Cheyenne, but now it’s just like I’m in her way.

My father doesn’t speak to me. He just lives in his office. I’m tired of feeling like this all the time. They hate me, and they aren’t going to help me get to where I need to go. This one, I’m going to have to do on my own. I turn to my mother, and meet her puffy gaze. She sniffles, and swipes her fingers under her nose.

“I’m tired of this. It’s clear to me you couldn’t care less about what happens to me, so I’m going to leave. I’ll go and find my own way, because I’m tired of living in Cheyenne’s shadow, when she’s not even alive.”

My mother stands and slaps me so hard I see stars. I grip my cheek, fighting back the hurt and anger.

“How dare you? You always were jealous of her! I can’t believe you would speak about her like that. She loved you, and this is how you honor her memory?”

“She loved herself!” I scream. “She didn’t love me, and neither do you.”

“Don’t be so stupid. I do love you, but I’m not going to coddle you and make you feel better about something that is your doing.”

“How is it my doing?” I cry, trembling. “She threw herself at Danny, it was her choice!”

“I don’t believe that for a second! Not a second! She fell in love with a lie, and got herself trapped. She wanted out. She didn’t want to be there. She told me so. She just couldn’t leave because he got her pregnant.”

“You are so naive!” I screech. “She wanted to be there. She wanted his body over hers, every night. She wanted his baby. She wanted him!”

“You shut your mouth,” she hisses. “That is your sister you’re talking about.”

“And she’s dead!” I scream so loudly I scare myself. “She’s dead, and she’s not coming back. It’s not my fault. She was the one who opened her filthy legs for Danny, and she was the one who made sure he married her. She made her own choices!”

She slaps me again. Now tears are thundering down her cheeks. “You always were so selfish, Ciara. Get out of my house.”

“Gladly,” I spit.

I turn on my heel, and with shaky legs I walk to my room. I pack what little things I own, and ring a cab. As I’m walking down the hall, I stop at Cheyenne’s door and peer into her old room. My heart hurts for my sister, because she didn’t deserved to die. I’ll always love her deep down in my soul, but I can’t help that I will always hate her, too. She knew what she was doing, every step of the way, and she made a point of shoving my face in it. Now she’s gone, and no one wants to hear of it. My parents hate me. Danny hates me. My world has turned upside down, and for what? For befriending someone who changed everyone’s lives. I peer around the room one last time, and before I leave, I whisper one, simple sentence and I mean it. Oh, I mean it.

“Fuck you, Cheyenne.”

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