The scene that greeted me in the kitchen stunned me. My best friend and roommate, Serena, had filled the kitchen with muffins. It was after midnight and there she was with about fifty muffins spread from one end of the kitchen to the other. Her hair, face and clothes were covered in flour, and there were ingredients and cooking utensils everywhere. My BFF was not a domestic goddess, that was for sure.
“What is all this cooking in aid of?” I asked, because it had to be for a reason. Serena didn’t often bake.
“My mother,” she said simply. And that said it all. Serena’s mother was a domineering woman and when she said jump, you said how high.
“Ah, another one of her charity assignments?” I asked. Her mother was always doing stuff for charities so I guessed this was just another one of those. Usually she didn’t get Serena to bake though, because let’s face it, we all knew her skills in this department were somewhat lacking.
Serena nodded. “Yep, and at the rate I am going, I doubt she will ever ask me to cook for her again.”
I laughed. “Do you want some help, honey?”
She flashed me a huge grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”
We spent the next hour tidying up and getting the muffins packed and ready to be delivered to her mother later that day. At about two am I crawled into bed, exhausted after a long day, but sleep eluded me. Thoughts of Storm and my life before I left assaulted me, and as much as I tried to avoid them, I just couldn’t.
I had been in a living hell for most of the year prior to leaving Brisbane. Actually, to be honest, it had started before that. It had started after Rob attacked me and that was nearly two years before I left. Back when I was dating J, the guy who I had been sure was going to be my forever.
You see, J killing Rob after he attacked me had fucked my relationship up with J and we had never been able to get it back on track. J blamed himself for the attack and I blamed myself for J killing him.
That night had started like any other for me. I had gone to work at Hyde’s, the bar I had worked at for a couple of years. Rob worked with me as a bartender and we had had a fun night with all the regulars. However, after close, while I was waiting for J to pick me up, Rob had turned on me and tried to rape me in the car park outside the bar. J had been late picking me up and arrived mid attack, just as Rob had pulled a knife on me and slashed my arm. Five minutes later, Rob was dead after J shot him and so began our descent into hell.
J and I had been together for just over two years at that point. We had been great friends for a lot longer than that. He had joined Storm when he was nineteen. I had been a seventeen year old schoolgirl at the time and fallen hard for him. However, nothing but flirting happened between us for six years, and during that time we had built a strong friendship. Our relationship as a couple had been fiery. We couldn’t get enough of each other but at the same time we argued constantly. Our main problem stemmed from the club. J didn’t involve me in club business and this annoyed me. I wanted to be a part of every aspect of J’s life and when he refused to talk about the club with me, I felt closed off from part of him. That had led to many arguments.
In the end though, what tore us apart was our inability to deal with the fallout from Rob’s death. After the attempted rape, J tried to wrap me in cotton wool. He constantly monitored my whereabouts and tried to dictate where I could go and what I could do. I was not a woman who could cope with that style of relationship. On top of that, I had started drinking heavily. Feeling responsible for Rob’s death and being unable to work through my feelings associated with that, I had resorted to shutting it all out by hitting the bar. It had started out as a bit of fun but had quickly spiralled into an addiction that I couldn’t get under control. J had lived with an alcoholic parent and had no tolerance for drinking to excess. He had tried desperately to get me help but I had blocked all his attempts. This had gone on for almost a year and the final nail in our coffin had been Jodie, a club whore who J had supposedly cheated on me with. I had believed the rumours, or perhaps I had wanted to, simply to have an excuse to walk away from what our relationship had become.
The year after I left J had been the lowest point in my life. My drinking had gotten worse, I had shut myself off from family and friends and I had hooked up with a violent and controlling biker from Storm’s rival club, Black Deeds. Nix was the VP of Black Deeds and getting involved with him had angered my father, brother and J. This had been a good reason for me to continue the relationship because at the time they were all pissing me off and it felt good to return the gesture. A couple of months into the relationship, I discovered that J hadn’t cheated on me. I was gutted that I had thrown our relationship away because of this, and went to him to apologise for not believing in him. That had been a turning point for me because we rekindled our friendship and he tried to help me get my life back on track. The problem was that Nix wasn’t about to give me up that easily. Although we had only been together for a very short time, he was very committed to keeping us together. He didn’t like my friendship with J and eventually realised that I was still in love with J. The day he worked that out was the day he beat me almost to death. And that was the day that had turned my life in a new direction and led me to where I was now.