The Anarchist's Heart

We didn’t even waste time getting on Jax’s bike. Instead, we both hopped into my car and Jax drove, easily going twenty over the speed limit. We didn’t care, though. Our hearts were both pounding like jackhammers in our chests. If Gemma had overheard Jax’s plans to leave, she would waste no time saying something to Clay about it. And if Clay knew about it, everyone would know about it. I felt more anxious on the drive over to the shop than I had when I got jumped. I could just feel the dread lingering in the air like a cold, wet blanket, smothering us both. There was the slightest possibility that we really had no cause to worry, but it was so insignificantly small it hardly mattered. We both knew that this was not going to end well. This was going to be bad.

The tires screeched as Jax took a hard turn into the shop lot. My fingernails were digging into my seat. Gemma’s car was parked right by the front door, angled just a little, like she parked in a state of panic. My heart sunk painfully slow. I heard Jackson curse beside me as he got out of the car. I followed suit even though my legs felt like jelly.

We walked inside the clubhouse. There were only a few people still remaining there: Tig, Opie, Happy, and Bobby. They all looked up from what they were doing and caught our frantic expressions.
“Where’s Clay and Gemma?” Jax demanded.

“They went into the chapel,” Tig answered. “What’s going on?”

Jax didn’t respond. He took my hand and pulled me with him through the chapel doors. Clay was seated at the head of the table and Gemma was leaning against the wall beside him. They both turned their heads when their guests entered. Gemma shook her head.

“Mom.” Jax was pleading, but his voice was hard.

“Here to throw down your jacket already, son?” Clay asked coolly. “I thought we had more time.”

“We do. I want this dealt with. I want this beef to go away so it never threatens my family again.” Jax responded.

“Family? Who, her?” He gestured at me. “She’s not your family. We are your family. Your mother and I. The club. She left you. She could leave you again. Do you really want to be left with no one when that happens?”

I swallowed. Tears stung my eyes. His words hurt. I opened my mouth to speak but Jax gripped my hand extra tight, warning me to keep quiet.

“I shouldn’t have listened, you two needed a moment alone,” Gemma said, pushing away from the wall. “But I had a bad feeling. And after what I heard I know why.”

“You’re right, it was private. What goes on between us is none of your business. It never has been and yet you keep trying to interfere. When you eavesdrop you tend to hear things you don’t wanna hear. So that’s what you get. But right now, you’re overreacting.”

“Jax, do you know what leaving this club means?” Clay asked. He sounded too calm. “Do you know what I’m going to have to do to you?”

I stared at Jax’s profile hard. He had a look of resignation on his face. I knew nothing of the club’s proceedings when it came to a member leaving. But the way Clay had phrased it, “do you know what I’m going to have to do to you”, made my heart leap into my throat and my stomach turn. I knew Jax was giving up a lot for me, but I was beginning to understand that I didn’t know just how much.

“I can handle the cover-up,” Jax grumbled. “I know what happens. I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, really? ’Cause I don’t think you do,” Clay stood up. He didn’t look so calm anymore. “Where are you gonna go, huh? You barely even have a high school education. You have no degree, no resumé. You’ve got nothing but her. And I don’t think you’re gonna be able to ride her coattails for very long.”

“You won’t need to worry about that,” Jax said. “I’ll be out of Charming and so I’ll be out of your hair. It doesn’t matter where we go, but I can’t do this anymore.”

“Oh, get over it,” Clay spat. “So your girl gets a little roughed up; that comes with the gig. Do you think that’s never happened to your mom because of the club? And do you see her packing a bag? If your girl wants to be your Old Lady she better be ready to make some damn sacrifices!”

“She deserves better than being an Old Lady!” Jax yelled. “She deserves a better life than the one you got, Mom. Think about it. All the shit you’ve been through and you want to dump that one someone else’s shoulders? You want someone else to go through all of that, too? She’s better than that. She deserves a real life, somewhere where she can be happy.”

“Then for god’s sake, let her go!” Gemma screamed. She sounded like she was choking up a little. She never had been one for reliving the past. “You wanna save her? Fine, do it. But you can’t save yourself, not anymore.”

“Wow,” Jax nodded. He was beginning to look frightening. I could see the rage glinting in his eyes. “The amount of faith in this room is heartwarming.”

“Don’t get us wrong,” Clay said. “We have lots of faith in you. We just have no faith in your idea.”

“You should never have come back here,” Gemma said to me. “I knew you’d get inside his head again; give him all of these ideas. You don’t know what’s best for him. You don’t know now and you didn’t know then. You left and you should’ve stayed away from here.”

“Mom, leave her alone,” Jax cautioned.

“You don’t think I know that?” I piped up. My voice sounded very small. “I didn’t want to come back here. I tried everything I could but it wasn’t up to me. But I wasn’t afraid of you, the club, or anyone else. I was afraid of all the feelings, all the memories coming back to me. I have loved your son for years. And I know he deserves a good life, one where he’s not threatened. He shouldn’t die from an act of violence; and he shouldn’t grow old and miserable either. Or would you stand by and wait for him to kill himself, like his father did?”

Gemma’s face contorted with rage. “You little bitch!” Then she was lunging at me and it looked like it was all happening in slow-motion. Before I knew it Jax had thrown me behind himself. The hands that gripped my arms were trembling.

“Stop it!” Jax yelled, his voice like a clap of thunder. “This is what I’m talking about! The hatred and the violence…I’ve had it!”

Suddenly Clay was laughing, and it wasn’t a funny laugh at all. He walked right up to Jax until he was inches away from his face. “And where do you get off, talking like you’re not a natural born killer?”

Jax shook his head slowly. His grip on me tightened. He didn’t speak.

“I’m sure you’ve lost count by now of the number of people you’ve killed,” Clay continued. “I’ve seen you do it many times. You get this look in your eye, like you were born to do that shit; like you like it. I’ve seen you carve guys up, torture them until they can barely hold their heads up anymore. And you didn’t seem to have a problem with any of it then.

“But there is one time I remember pretty clearly. It was actually kind of recent, wasn’t it, Jax?” Clay asked. “Does that one still come back to haunt you from time to time? It should.”

“Clay…” Jax spoke through clenched teeth. His voice was deathly low. A bad feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

“Tsk, tsk,” Clay shook his head. “You should really be ashamed for that one. Have you told her the truth yet?” Again he gestured at me.

“She doesn’t need to know about that,” Jax said urgently. “She’s already been through enough today.”

“I think it’s only fair she knows exactly what kind of a foundation this relationship stands on before she runs away with you to live happily ever after.” Clay looked at me. “This man is a murderer He has left a trail of blood behind him since he was sixteen years old.”

I gasped, disturbed.

Clay lifted his eyebrows. “Didn’t know he was that young, did you? Because he didn’t tell you that, did he? He didn’t tell you because he “loved” you and he didn’t want you to go away. Well, the same thing happened again. Only this time it wasn’t some slimy heroin dealer, it was your fiancé. I didn’t kill him. That story was what saved his ass and now I regret ever taking the blame. If I hadn’t, you would’ve been gone a long time ago.”

I felt the numbness spreading throughout my body as I went into shock. My first instinct of course was to not believe him. But I couldn’t help noticing that Jax was suddenly quiet. He was glaring at Clay but he wasn’t defending himself. I stood practically right in front of him and he wouldn’t look at me.

“That’s not true, right?” I asked, my voice shaking. “You didn’t kill Alex. You wouldn’t.”

The silence seemed to stretch on forever. I felt like I was going to be sick. The longer he stayed silent the more anxious and upset I got until tears were filling my eyes and I couldn’t keep them at bay.

“Did you do it?” I demanded loudly.

Jax looked at the floor. He was folding in on himself; his shoulders slumped and his body language was screaming uncomfortable. The bad feeling that had settled itself in the pit of my stomach was beginning to feel like shards of glass, tearing me apart.

“He had a gun pulled on me,” Jax whispered. “He was going to shoot.”

Just like that, I reverted back into my dark shroud of depression, anger, and horror. I felt its cold, deathly embrace in an instant and while it felt frightening it also felt familiar. That was it. I felt like I had been cut in two but I couldn’t quite acknowledge the pain of it all. When would it all be over? When would I stop getting hurt and losing people? I asked myself all of these questions but no answers could be found.

Jax finally looked at me. He looked heartbroken, almost sheepish, like he had just broken an antique vase. “Ella, I’m so sorry,” he said.

In that moment the only emotion I could make any sense of was anger. I wound up and struck him across his face with all my strength. It didn’t make me feel any better.

“I don’t ever want to see you again,” I growled through clenched teeth, while tears streamed down my cheeks. “I’m done. You disgust me. I’m leaving tonight and I suggest you let me go.”

I didn’t stay to watch the aftermath. Gemma and Clay would be happy; they’d have no more reason to worry that their prodigal son would leave them. I got in my car and took off, although I wasn’t in the best mental or emotional shape to be driving. But I didn’t care; I wanted to get as far away from that place as fast as I could. As I drove back to the house I thought of all the things I had to pack up and tried to estimate how long it would take me. If worst came to worst, I’d pack my clothes, grab my cat, and catch the nearest bus out of town.

When I got to the house I ran to the front door only to find it ajar. I skidded to a halt immediately. I was sure I had locked and shut it behind me when we left; we were in a hurry but I never forgot to lock up behind me. My heart, which had felt like a cold dead lump up until this point, began beating hard against my ribcage. I could hear it pounding in my ears and feel it in my skull. Slowly, I toed the door open and stepped inside.

The lights were all off. All the windows were shut. The items on the counter remained there, untouched. It smelled the same. Cautiously, I took the largest kitchen knife I could find from the block on the counter and made my way to the back of the house, turning lights on as I went. I kept telling myself there was nothing different; no one was in there but me. Yet I still felt terrified, every sense heightened with anxiety and adrenaline. I didn’t see, smell, or hear anything at all on the way to the bedroom. When I got there I immediately turned the light on. It looked just as we’d left it. I allowed myself to breathe a small sigh of relief.

I walked around to my side of the bed, and that’s when I saw it out of the corner of my eye: a dark stain on the carpet. I looked down to find Felix, laying lifeless and bloody next to the bed. He had been stabbed several times. I let out a small moan of heartbreak and sadness, dropping to my knees and releasing the knife so I could touch him one last time. His beautiful salt and pepper fur was matted with blood; his haunting golden eyes closed forever. A fresh wave of sadness broke over me and I sobbed. My cat was dead and I had no idea why.

Suddenly I was being grabbed roughly by large hands. Arms like tree trunks gripped me hard to a broad chest, threatening to break my ribs. I opened my mouth to scream but I was muted by a cloth over my nose and mouth. It smelled sweet but tasted sour.

“Your cat damn near took my face off,” A rough, deep voice spoke in my ear. “I had to do something about it.”

That was all I remember. After that I got very weak and sleepy and although I tried to keep my eyes open they seemed to have a mind of their own. I couldn’t see, hear, feel, or taste anything after that. It was all just black.