Hey guys!

It's been a long time coming, but I love Sons of Anarchy and I can't get it out of my head since I watched the series again, so it's been sucking up my muse for other stories, which I will hopefully update sometime this week or next, I know some people won't be happy about this but it's happening lol.

So I'll start off by saying I wasn't happy with the ending of Sons of Anarchy (who was?) and I wasn't exactly happy with how Juice was treated throughout seasons 5, 6 and definitely not season 7. So, I'm centering this story around that time mostly at the end of season 6 and the start of season 7, somethings will be the same from season 7, but I'm planning on making it mostly my own.

Things like Tara's death and Gemma killing her will be the same, Juice disappearing, a new sheriff, Wendy sticking around, Jax going off the deep end but he doesn't kill Jury, the whole triad war doesn't happen but things are still tense. I'll decide more if I feel like it needs to be added it but until then you'll have to read the story to find out!

Anyways, this is being centred on Juice for the start but it will be a Jax/OC eventually it'll just take some time!

Disclaimer: all my OC's are my own such as Hannah and Jason, but anything else belongs to Kurt Stutter.

Enjoy!

Juice didn't know what he was doing. His mind was spilt with one side, (the crazy, voices side) arguing that he should go into Diosa and pop those Oxy pills, and just relax like Bobby said. The other more rational, and slightly less crazy side told him he needed to get out. That he needed help. Professional help. The guilt on his shoulders was inhuman. He was drowning under the weight of it all. Of all the killings. Miles, Darvany and now Clay. How was he supposed to come back from this?

Juice didn't know. He doesn't know a lot of things lately. Live or die. Go deeper or go away. Fall apart or become stone. He could feel the Oxy burning a hole in his cut pocket as he stood outside of Diosa, smoking and leaning against his bike. He should be three sheets to the wind and knee deep in pussy right now, the normal way a biker should deal, but Juice isn't normal and he never was. He's not a stone cold killer like Happy or Tig, or even Jax. He's not a diplomat or reasonable person like Bobby, he's not a justifiable or loyal person like Chibs. He's Juice. He's a child. He's sensitive and too dependable. He needs the club. He eat, sleeps and breathes the club.

He's also a betrayer. A backstabber. A rat. He might have earned his way back but it doesn't stop the worry. The fact that any day now the rest of the club will find out he killed Miles, a brother, to save his own rat ass craves away at his mind. He trusts Jax, he does. But he's scared. And a scared Juice is an unpredictable Juice.

He just wants it all to end. All the questions, uncertainty, the guilt. He wants the voices to go away. The sound of Miles in his head, the gasp of Darvany and the comfort of the pillow in his hand. Clays understanding gaze. It all makes him guiltier and dirtier. He wants to go back to a time when he could freely walk into the clubhouse and laugh along with his brothers without feeling guilty for smiling. He wants to go back to when there was a full table of brothers, not newbies and mistrustful glances. He wants to go back to feeling like a family. He wants to feel clean again. He wants to feel like he's doing good.

It's been months and months since he felt like he's been doing any kind of good in the world, he'd rather be physically in prison again than in the mental prison he's been in up till now. He felt like he had been doing some good by helping Clay out when he needed it, turns out that was all a ploy and he had been a pawn in Jax's grand scheme. That's all he felt like lately a pawn, to be moved here and there when needed. And he deserved no less. In fact he probably deserved less than that.

With these thoughts swirling around in his head Juice stomped out his cigarette and started for the front door of Diosa the Oxy in his hand but stops short just of the door handle. The sound of chatter and laughter greeted his ears and made his stomach squirm. He doesn't deserve comfort. He doesn't deserve laughter or happiness. You deserve to be dead. The voice that sounded so much like Miles flashes in his mind. Dead, dead, dead, DEAD! The chant continued as Juice's shook his head and tears filled his eyes. Through his blurred vision he could make out three figures: two males and one female.

Dead, dead, dead…rat, rat, rat….murder, murder, murder… "No, no, no, no. I had to. I had to!" Juice shook his head back and forth as the figures approached him and he back away.

You had choices, you didn't have to. You choose to be a rat, a murder, a betrayer.

"No, I didn't. I had no other choice, Miles h-he was going to tell. And Darvany, she was out of her m-mind." Like you are?

"No!"

Yes. Do it, Juice. Do what they want.

"No, they don't want that." Don't they? Chibs can't look at you and Jax would throw you to the club if he needs to. Just end it all now. Do it now, juicy! DO IT!

Juice jumped when all three figures pounced for him, he quickly started up his bike wiping the tears out of his eyes as he heard the voices shouting at him. The roar of his bike drowned them out slightly, but he could still hear their mumbling. Do it, do it, do it.

He tore straight out of the parking lot and straight for the highway. He didn't even have to stop to figure out where he was going because he knew. It was now or never.

Juice drove the hour and a half from Charming to Berkeley straight without once giving into the voices. He needed help. He pulled up just outside of the hospitals entrance and said a silent prayer as he shook off his knife,gun and cut, feeling a weight physical and mentally being lifted from him as he folded it neatly and put it in his side bag. He hoped someone would look after his bike.

You're doing the wrong thing. They can't help you. No one can.

For once Juice ignored the voice as he took his first steps towards the hospital.

Read&Review please and thank you!

Poofx