The Anarchist's Heart

I woke up that morning with a smile on my face for the first time in a long time. Usually I’m in such a rush to get things done that I hop out of bed as soon as I’m awake and start my day. But that morning I stayed in bed. I held the sheets up to my face and inhaled the scent of laundry soap and dryer sheets. I watched patterns of light dance across my ceiling and walls as the sun gained strength outside. When I finally decided to move, I brought a blanket with me and draped it over my shoulders and held it closed around me in the front. I didn’t dare say it out loud because I refused to jinx myself, but I felt good for the first real time since moving back to Charming.

For the past month and a half it’d been quiet in the outlaw town, at least for me. I’d been making a ton of progress at work, connecting with so many of my students and co-workers and feeling pride every single day. Alex and I were making wedding plans like nobody’s business and I had a date set to go wedding dress shopping with my mom in a couple weeks. By planning the wedding and getting more and more excited about it, my relationship with Alex had only flourished more. I felt more than ready to make him my husband. There was no one else I wanted but him. Three weeks ago he brought home a kitten for me—an adopted one, the runt of the litter. His fur was salt and pepper, with pure black ears and paws and golden eyes. He was small, playful and cuddly and I fell instantly in love with him. I named him Felix—I don’t know why, it just stuck.

Most importantly, for the past month and a half I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Jax Teller, his mother, or the reaper. It was like my message had finally gotten through to him and he had backed off. They were leaving me alone to live my life here until we could move again. It was nice, but I didn’t want to get my hopes too high. Sometimes when it comes to Jax and the Sons, not hearing from them for too long might not end up being a good thing.

That morning I made myself a cup of coffee with a little extra cream and cuddled up on the couch by the window with my mug and my blanket. Felix stretched before hopping up first into my lap and then onto the back of the couch. I scratched his ears.

“What a good guard cat you are,” I murmured. He began to purr.

Alex was away on business but he’d be back late that afternoon, around supper time. I figured since I’d gotten my marking done I could spend some time getting a few things from the grocery store so I could make his favourite meal for him: spaghetti and meatballs. The thought of him walking through the front door after a long day of driving and business to the smell of his favourite meal cooking put a huge grin on my face.

After I showered and freshened up my face a little I decided I’d go get something from the deli a couple blocks over for lunch. They made incredible ham and cheese sandwiches, and they had great homemade muffins and pies available too. Plus it always smelled amazing in there; like my grandma’s kitchen. I think that might be why I liked it so much.

The little bells above the door jingled when I walked in. It was always busy in there during lunch time. A few people turned to look at me and I offered small smiles to a few before getting in line to order my food. Since it was a little hectic inside they asked for my name so they could call it out when my order was ready. I gave it to them of course; I thought little of it. But as I was standing off to the side waiting I could hear whispers and they didn’t sound very nice. My eyes flicked to the corner booth table, only a few steps away from where I was standing. Two women, one blonde, one redhead, were staring me down as they leaned in to whisper to one another. It made me uncomfortable and angry to say the least, but I just looked away and pretended not to notice. I didn’t know why they’d feel the need to whisper about me in the first place, but at the moment I didn’t want to know.

Finally I got my sandwich and slice of apple pie and I sat down at a little table to eat my meal. I could still hear them whispering behind me. I could feel their eyes on my back. I kept seeing their faces in my mind as I got angrier. The blonde had wavy hair to her shoulders, red lipstick, and what looked to be a broken nose that she had never gotten fixed after she’d received it. I didn’t have to wonder why she got it in the first place. She just had that face that said “I think I’m better than you so I’m going to do what I want and you’re going to put up with it”. It drove me mad. I hated that face. The redhead had long, tangled hair that looked like she’d just crawled out of bed from next to a one-night stand, or gotten into a fight and lost. Her heavy eyeliner was smudged and she had a thick hoop in her left nostril. She kept laughing at whatever Bitch Face was saying to her, and her laugh was terrible. It was loud and raspy; like a witch’s, if that witch was a chain-smoker.

I could hear little bits and pieces of what they were saying when they dared to get just loud enough so their voices could travel over to me. Bitch Face was doing most of the talking; Witchy just laughed and snickered. I heard words like “look at her”; “I can’t believe…he has better taste than that”; “…heard about it, thought she’d be prettier”; “…waste of his time…”; “scrawny bitch…” I could feel the heat in my face as my rage intensified. It was clear they were looking to start something because they were getting less quiet and they refused to move on with their conversation. I didn’t know what made me angrier: the fact that they were talking about me when I was sitting right there, or the fact that I didn’t even know them and they seemed to hate me. Either way they had ruined my good mood and I resented them for it. When I heard the name “Jax Teller” slip from Bitch Face’s mouth, I pushed my chair back and stood up, not hesitating for an instant as I walked over to them.

“Alright, listen. If you’re going to talk about me, why don’t I sit down and join you?” I asked sharply.

Bitch Face just looked at me with ditzy wide eyes before cracking a smile and scoffing. Witchy just twirled a piece of her hair and stared out the window. Her eyes were glassy and track marks dotted her arms. I suddenly realized why she looked the way she did.

“Yeah, I’m good, thanks,” Bitch Face said. Her voice was even more aggravating when she spoke normally.

“Then why don’t you shut your mouth or leave?” I snarled.

At that point the small deli had gone quiet and everyone was on edge, watching us. I bet that sort of thing didn’t go down very frequently in that place.

“Excuse me?” Bitch Face gasped.

“I said, you can either talk shit to my face like a big girl, shut your slutty mouth, or you can leave. Your choice, sweetheart.”

She smacked her gum for a second before rolling her eyes and scoffing again. She stood up slowly as she began to speak.

“Alright. I was just saying how I don’t know what a man like Jax Teller sees in a piece of trash like you.”

“I have nothing to do with him.” I growled through gritted teeth. I was really tired of having to say that.

“Says you. But everyone in this town knows who you were to him. And to me it just doesn’t make sense. You’re too much of a stuck-up old bitch. Riding you is probably like riding a half-empty sack of flour: soft, flabby, and dried up. But I guess I can just go ask Jackson about that, can’t I? I think I might.”

I could tell in that moment that they were the kinds of whores with ties to the club; used for sex, parties, business promises, and little else. And I knew then that if I knocked a few of her teeth out or gave her a concussion it wouldn’t matter; she didn’t matter. So I didn’t hesitate delivering a sharp blow to her face that sent her stumbling onto the tabletop. Witchy screeched and withdrew, but I didn’t care about her. I was more concerned with trying to re-break Bitch Face’s nose.

There was blood splattered on the table and on my shirt but I didn’t care. She’d only gotten one good pull at my hair so far and I’d given her a dozen hits. I was so drowned in my rage that I was seeing red. I couldn’t stop hitting her. She was everything I hated. She was stupid Charming and its stupid people, asking stupid questions and making up stupid rumours and living in the stupid past.

Suddenly she spat up blood and began to laugh. Her teeth were red and her eyes were almost swollen shut but she was laughing. I paused, confused. And then she spoke.

“Wow, maybe I was wrong. So much violence…maybe you really are his old lady.”

I froze. Something about those words made me feel sick to my stomach and incapacitated at the same time. Finally someone grabbed me and pulled me off of her. I shook off their hold, grabbed my purse, and left. I could barely feel my legs as I walked out to my car. I sat in it for awhile, too stunned to put the keys in the ignition. I looked down at my shaking hand. My knuckles were covered in blood and they were aching. They were already bruising a little. My heart sunk as I stared at them. I’d seen Jax’s hands look that way many times before. Just like that I felt immense regret and sadness and frustration. I wasn’t like him. I wasn’t his. And I certainly wasn’t his old lady, but I sure had acted like it. I’d acted like Gemma; defensive, violent, and just angry. The thought destroyed me.

All I wanted to do was sink down in my seat and cry, but I knew I had to get out of there. I couldn’t believe I’d just gotten into a fist fight in a deli in the middle of the day. It made me sick to think I’d actually done that. I actually felt like I could puke, but it didn’t happen. Still, the feeling remained.

I drove straight home, put my car in park and shut it off. I didn’t get out right away. Instead I burst into frustrated tears and leaned against the steering wheel as my body heaved with sobs. I’d never done that before. I’d felt that rage before many times but I’d never mercilessly beat someone just for annoying me. That was something he would do, not me. That was something she would do. But not me.

No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t stop thinking the unthinkable. Was that why we had been together in the first place? Was I so much like him even I hadn’t been able to see it until I got covered in someone else’s blood? And a scarier thought: was it him who shaped me that way, or was that just who I was?

I leaned back and hauled in a breath. No. I wasn’t like that. I’d just been stressed out by the move and work and wedding preparations, that was all. It had just built up and exploded. That happened sometimes. It was natural. I was no monster. I was no Jax Teller.

Although my day had started off wonderfully, it had ended in the worst way. I spent the rest of my day lying in bed and not sleeping. Felix curled up beside me and didn’t move the whole time. When Alex finally got home I walked into his arms without saying a word. When he asked what was wrong, all I told him was that I screwed up and wasn’t able to make him his favourite meal. He laughed and consoled me, taking out his phone and calling for takeout. He held me on the couch for a little, telling me to cheer up; it wasn’t a big deal. But he didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. And he never would.