Crash & Burn

Crash & Burn

The Hells
Disciples

MC

2

Jaci J.

Crash & Burn © 2014 Jaci J.

All Rights Reserved.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other
electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author
or publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews
and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests,
write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address
below

[email protected]

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person or persons, living
or dead, any place, event, occurrence, or incident is purely coincidental. The characters
and story lines are created and thought up from the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously.

Cover art; Cover done by Margreet Asselbergs of RfR Designs

Cover photos; Big Stock Photos Tumad (45056344) Astor63 (17963390)

This one is for my mom.

No matter what crazy, stupid, or outrageous thing I do, you still love me.

Thank you for your unconditional love, support, encouragement,

and for
always
having my back and best interest at heart.

I love you!

A big thank you to the best editor and my crazy kind of manager DANA HOOK. You fucking
rock!! Without your help I’d still be floating around in Amazon with a good, but terribly
edited and formatted book. You’re my favorite book bitch & I thank fuck for all your
wonderful help!!

Thank you!!

Again a huge thank you to my best friend and biker mouthed little sister. You’re opinion
and support has helped me through this crazy adventure. You are the best!! I love
you!!

A shout out to Margreet Asselbergs of RfR Design for designing beautiful covers for
me. Before you I had an alright cover and now I have perfection. You took my ideas
and made them into something amazingly wonderful! Thank you!

And to everyone who read the first book and loved it, this one is for you!! You’re
encouraging words and love keep me writing!!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

1.
     
“Smoke, Drink, Break-up” – Mila J.

2.
     
“Litost” & “Down With Me” – X Ambassadors

3.
     
“Ashley” – Big Sean

4.
     
“Shameless” – Garth Brooks

5.
     
“Tuesday’s Gone” - Lynyard Skynyrd

6.
     
“Numb” – August Alsina

7.
     
“High for This”, “Valerie”, “The Birds (part 2)” – The Weeknd

8.
     
“Poetic Justice” – Kendrick Lamar

9.
     
“Superman” – Eminem

10.
 
“Alive” – Ayah Marar

11.
 
“She Knows” – J. Cole

12.
 
“Go Deep” – Ty Dolla $ign

13.
 
“Waiting Game” – Banks

14.
 
“Holy Grail” – Jay Z

15.
 
“Just Like A Pill” – Pink

16.
 
“Tears in Heaven” – Eric Clapton

17.
 
“Give Me One Reason” – Tracy Chapman

18.
 
“100” – Iggy Azalea

19.
 
“Who Do You Love” – YG

20.
 
“Tiny Dancer” – Elton John

Since that night there has been no hope, no light. I’ve been living in complete darkness
… HELL
.

Hate

Tank

Her back has always been tanned, smooth, and so fucking perfect that you can’t help
but want to touch it, kiss it. I could spend my entire day licking every fucking inch
of it because I love her body, her skin. Now as I look at her, I can barely hold back
the angry outburst fighting its way from my fucking gut. This shit eats away at me
every second of every fucking day. It’s all I can see anymore, and I can’t stand even
looking at her because of it. All I feel is absolute rage at what I see. I stare at
those three round, raised, pink scars that mark that perfect skin, and the sight of
them make me sick to my stomach. I hate myself for letting it happen to her, and I
hate her for looking past it. I hate that she still loves me, and I really hate that
I don’t deserve it.

Lying in bed together, just after fucking her hard, I can only think of those three
goddamn scars. She’s lying on her side with her sexy, long ass leg thrown out to the
side, giving me another perfect body part of hers that’s stained with the reminder
of my failure. I’ve let her down so many times, but that last time will forever be
what will take her away from me, whether she wants to see it or not. How can I love
her when every time I look at her, I feel disgust for her, for staying here and not
leaving me. I want her to see that I did this to her and have her hate me for it,
but she still stays ‘cause shoe loves me, no matter how bad I treat her.

It all started happening a few weeks after that night. Things seemed calm enough and
we were all tryin’ to get back to normal, but then I got a gut check. Maybe it was
from all that adrenaline still running through my body ‘cause just when I thought
I could start to calm down from it all, out of nowhere, it just felt like a ton of
bricks were crushing me. I was lying there with Lil in my arms, sleeping peacefully
when the nightmare started flashing before my eyes.. My body went cold and I started
to shake because I was there, and I could feel every fucking emotion I felt that night
like it was happening all over again. It didn’t matter that she was right here; whole,
alive and in my arms. The nightmare felt like it was reality again. All I could do
was lay there, freaking the fuck out while clinging to Lil like a life raft.

             
She’s running to me with so much desperation as those shots ring out. I’m not there
in time, but I see every jerk of her body as each bullet tears into her. Her eyes
go wide with shock as each jerk gets her closer to me, ‘cause she doesn’t stop running
for a second. My baby was hurt, but she has always been so fucking strong. I finally
get to her as she runs right into me, knocking us both to the ground. I’m scared shitless
‘cause I know she took all three hits. Her breath is ragged and her total stillness
consumes me. All I feel is panicked and desperate ‘cause I know this shit is bad.
It’s so goddamn bad.

She’s choking now and gasping for air as I flip her off me. There is so much blood
covering her. I can smell it and see her fucking struggling to stay alive, all the
while staring at me. I can’t fucking save her.

Even though I know the outcome, I can’t stop the feeling of dread that settles over
me like a thick blanket, thinking of her not making it. The image of her body not
moving, her eyes, dead of life while they are still looking straight at me … she’s
gone. This time no one saves her and I always wake up in a fuckin’ panic, shaking
and needing a drink. Drinking and fucking her are the only things that bring me back
from the goddamn nightmares.

After six months of this shit, my mind is in a constant state of pissed off and scared
shitless. I can have them every night for a week, and then I won’t have them for a
few days. I might have them as soon as my ass falls asleep, or it could be right before
I wake up. I never know when to expect them, and the not knowing is just about as
bad as the dreams themselves. The dreams fuck with me. They fuck with us.

I’m constantly worried something is gonna happen to her if she’s not in my sight. 
I always have to know she’s alright because it’s the only way I can function anymore.
The dreams fuel these psychotic feelings and keep my nerves on edge. I feel bad for
acting like a fucking nut case whenever she’s not around me. I pressure the fuck out
of her by blowing up her phone, showing up wherever she’s at and wanting to know when
she’ll be back. I throw all my shit on her. The dreams, the scary as fuck thought
that she’ll die, and the guilt are eating me alive and I put that shit on her.

****

It’s three in the morning and I can’t fucking sleep. I sit here, nursing my Jack and
smoking my blunt as I stare aimlessly at my beautiful girl. Inhaling the smoke, I
fill my lungs as I stare and think. These last few months I’ve resorted to drinking
… a lot. It’s like something won’t let me forget. I sit here and try to understand
why my mind can’t come to terms with the fact she’s here, alive and breathing every
fucking day. I feel nothing but guilt for not being there, not getting to her in time.
My mind is telling me that she may be here, but I fucked up and almost lost her. This
bitch has been the stronger of us, and in some way it pisses me off. She’s her own
savior, I’m her fucking failure.

She forgives me for all of it. She can’t understand why I blame myself and that she
loves me unconditionally. No matter what I say or do, she’s right by my side, always
putting up with my shit. After that night, I expected to lose
my
Lil. After what she’d been through, I was sure she’d change. Hell, I wouldn’t blame
her if she couldn’t move on from it and I was ready to be her rock, whatever she needed
me to be. I was sure I’d lose the carefree, crazy girl I loved so fuckin’ much. That
was what I was expecting.

Not a goddamn thing about Lil has changed. If anything, she lives life harder. She’s
always dancing, singing, smiling for no damn reason at all. She loves me harder, wants
me more. She’s still everything to me and she’s still the reason I do everything I
do. That night didn’t change her, it changed me. Because of my nightmares, I’ve become
hers.

             
More recently, I drink, smoke, and stay at the club, hoping to numb the obsessive
need for her and the life she should have without me. I want her, yet I want to forget
her and feel normal again. No matter how much I hate myself, I’ll never be able to
let her go. There are a fuck of a lot of clinical words for it, shit like co-dependent,
or self-deprecating. In the end, it’s just fucking sad. I can’t get enough of her,
but it kills me just to look at her. I hate her for wanting her so goddamn bad.

****

             
“How much bacon are you gonna make baby, ‘cause it looks like you cooked the entire
farm?” Her soft hands push up under the front of my shirt and as I’m standing there
at the stove, she leans herself into me. Her warm body against mine always makes me
hard. I fight the shiver her touch brings to my skin and fight the need to push her
against the counter and fuck her to remind myself that she’s mine. These thoughts
make me want to drink. She moves her face around my shoulder so I can see that sexy
smile and those beautiful eyes as she makes a grab for the bacon. I hate and love
the way she looks at me, like I’m the only motherfucker she wants. Shit makes me feel
guilty as she damn near dances away from me into the living room.

             
I moved her stuff into my place right after she got out of the hospital. I needed
her close where I could always find her. I thought having her here would help and
it does, but not the way I’d hoped. How do you love someone so fucking much, and want
to hurt them all the time? She changed a few things around my place. Thought it’d
bother me, but it doesn’t. It just reminds me she’s here with me right where I want
her, but I feel like shit for wanting it that way. 

             
“You goin’ to the club today?” she asks from the couch a few minutes later. There’s
a touch of uncertainty when she asks me. It’s a tone she uses a lot with me now; always
careful about what she says around me. She shouldn’t have to hold shit in, but I shouldn’t
make her feel like she has to, either. She’s surrounded by school books, her computer
propped up on her lap, those cute ass glasses on her nose. She’s so beautiful it hurts
to look at her and I’ll never truly understand how I got so goddamn lucky.

“Yeah. No need to wait up, I may be late again.”

Her eyes lose some spark and that smile slips ever so slightly, but she nods anyways.
My fucking little soldier holding that shit down for me, because I’m a fucking asshole
and can’t take it. Not enough sleep is giving me a real fucked up attitude. I decided
to try and soften the blow, so I got up and started making her breakfast, thinking
it could make her day a little easier to deal with me.

“Me, Peaches, n’ Lailah are goin’ into town to look at cars. Do you wanna come?” she
asks , lacking any confidence. I catch the name Lailah. She’s no one I know and yet
I don’t give a fuck enough to ask. She knows my answer to her question before she
asks, but she loves me, so she asks anyway.

Shaking my head I mutter, “Can’t. Got too much shit to do. ”

She gives me a half-hearted smile and nods again. I make a plate and offer it to her,
but she shakes her head no. She doesn’t eat much lately so she’s lost some weight
and I hate it, but again I don’t say anything. Sitting down on the couch at the opposite
end, I eat my own food and stare at her. She works for a minute until her phone rings.
I watch her face light up as she looks at the screen, and it hurts that it’s no longer
me putting that beautiful as fuck smile on that perfect face.

“Hey babe!” She answers excitedly. A beat passes before she smiles and says, “Yeah,
I’ll be right down.” Closing her computer, she smiles from ear to ear. Slipping on
her shoes and grabbing her purse, she walks toward me. Her hands curl under my arms,
pressing herself into my back over the couch as I hear her sigh.

Kissing me softly she says, “I love you baby, even though you don’t think I should.
I love you even though you feel you hate yourself, and I love you even when you feel
like hating me too.”

With one last kiss on my neck, she leaves me. My heart squeezes painfully and the
need to have another drink settles in my gut. Fuck, I hate myself.