Punch after punch. Blood dripping onto the concrete. Blood on my fists. Blood covering his face. Blood bright red on his white t-shirt. Blood was all I could see. All I could smell. I could have kept going. I could have gone until he was half dead. Somehow under the ringing of rage in my head I could hear a faint and quite "Stop" and an even softer, "please." He was hunching over on his hands and knees, clutching at his stomach, panting. He looked up at me with a pleading and bloody face. I stood there, frozen, fist in mid swing. Staring at him for a minute, I lowered my arm and helped up and out of the garage and into the bar to clean him up.
(***)
It's been a few hours since I gave Juice the beat down in the garage and cleaned him up. His face was bruised to hell, he had a cut on his lip and eyebrow, his face was still slightly stained with blood and hell the kid was still wearing his bloodied white shirt. I knew that under his t-shirt he had an impressive bruise on his stomach from a kick I don't really remember giving him. He's hands and forearms were cut from when he caught himself on the tool tray and when he landed on the ground. Looking at the kids' bruised and battered face I felt a little guilty but I didn't know what else to do. Talking to him and telling him that I was there for him didn't seem to work. Leaving him alone to figure it out didn't do any good. I guess me beating the day lights out of him was more because he betrayed the club… he betrayed me. He should have trusted us. He should have trusted me when I told him that it didn't matter who the fuck his father was. He should of trusted us and knew that we wouldn't give a shit. He's already a member and to think that we kick him out because of who is da' is, without any real evidence? He's an idiot to say the least. Then again I think he has always had trouble understanding that. I don't know much about his childhood but from what I can gather all the people that he'd trusted back than has let him down and fucked him over so it's hard for him to trust anyone. So me giving him that beating was all I could think of doing. I couldn't just pretend that I didn't know, we both knew that I knew what he did and I think talking to him and hearing what he had two say would just get me more pissed off and to be honest? I don't want to hear his reasoning or excuses or what happened. I feel somewhat better now and I can move on from what he's done.
(***)
I haven't spoken to Juice since before the beat down and it's about midnight and I'm sipping on my second glass of whiskey for the night, all the while Juice has been going back and forth from the seat next to me at the bar having shot after shot of tequila, Tig with him, matching each shot, to the couch smoking dope and chatting with a crow eater and Tig about something irrelevant. It's funny seeing Tig and Juice interrupt considering Tig has hated him since he joined as a prospect, though that's more because of Clay thinking he was hopeless and untrustworthy. How right he was.
The club was quiet, Ratboy took Lyla home after a few drinks, Happy left at some point and the rest of the boys are nowhere to be seen. So it was just me, Tig and Juice and I was only there to look out for Juice and to take him home considering the state that he is in now. Tig's on his way to one of the back rooms with a crow eater. Juice was sitting on one of the couches smoking a cigarette. Five minutes later I saw him move in the corner of my eye, heading towards the door. Quickly swallowing my last mouth full I follow the kid out into the cool night air. By now it's about one in the morning and when the door slammed behind me it breaks the silence around us. I call out into the darkness for Juice, his silhouette stumbling towards his bike and doesn't acknowledge me. I try again and still nothing. By the time I reach him he is at his bike trying to fish his keys out of his pocket. I put a hand on his shoulder and spin him around to face me and say "oi," trying to get his attention. Right then I feel a strike to my jaw, something I'm to familiar with. From memory you think the pain is bad, but each time you get hit it's always worse. Stumbling back a few feet, I look up at Juice in shock, more so because I didn't see it coming, not because he actually hit me. Juice's face was just blank, he stared at me with dead and glassy eyes, showing no remorse, or victory or anything that would say he'd just hit me. Not letting him get away with that, I grab the front of his dried bloody shirt with both hands and knock his feet with one of my feet and lay him down on the ground and land a punch across his jaw when he's on his back.
"Don't go hitting me lad, I'm not the one that's deserving of it."
I'm standing over him when he asks, "what do you want?" in an angry and drunken tone and looks up at me with a tired and bruised face.
"Well," I say as I put a hand out to him, helping him up off the ground, "with the state that you're in, I'm here to drive you home yeh idiot."
"Since when do you give a shit about my well being anymore?" Standing on two feet, back straight and shoulders squared, a defence mechanism of his, he's even got it perfected while drunk.
A little shocked at his response I say, "I've always given a shit Juicy," in a quiet voice. To that he stepped closer to me so we were almost touching noses. His breath smelt of tequila and a touch of weed.
"You say that but you don't give me a chance to explain myself and what really happened. You just started yelling and throwing punches. I admit, I deserved it and no matter the reasoning for what I did can make it any better. I won't insult you by making excuses, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry." His voice broke on his apology and he let go of a deep breath. Though it was quite dark, the only light was coming from the almost full moon, I could see there were tears in his eyes, daring to spill over.
"Aye Juicy, I know yeh are. Yeh proved that tonight. But kid, you gotta know that I don' forgive you for wha' you did. But know that I can move past it now. You gotta trust us kid, we're family. You do know that Jackie and Elvis don't give a shit who your Da' is, neither do i and neither will the rest of the club if we told 'em, which we won't." Juice stepped back then, opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, nodded, turned his back to me, rubbed his face and took a big breath of air and exiled loud and slow. He started making his way to the truck but started stumbling and tripping over so I took his and put it around the back of my neck and guided him over the passenger side and helped him in.
The drive to Juice's seemed quite longer than it usually is. Juice didn't say anything and I wasn't going to be the one to break the silence, then again I'm pretty sure Juice fell asleep at some point but I couldn't be to sure considering it was dark. I didn't plan on getting out of the car, I was just going to drop Juice off, drive home and pick him up in the morning. But once he opened the car door and went to step out, he fell flat on his face on the grass and didn't get up. When I reached the other side of the cab Juice was on his hands and knees, throwing up and saying curses under his breath. "Jesus Christ Juicy," I say under my breath, shaking my head, feeling sorry for the kid. Deciding not to try and help him up yet, I take a seat on the curb, leaving quite a bit of space between me and him. After a string of curses by Juice, throwing up two more times, he rolled over onto his back next to me on the ground, his hands joined and covering his eyes and his fleet planted on the ground, knees bent.
(***)
I've gotten him inside and his had a shower, now sitting at his kitchen table, I'm cleaning out his cuts on his face and arms and every touch on his face of the alcohol cotton bud there's a little wince coming from him. I check his bruised stomach, satisfied that it's not to bad. I give him a glass of water and fill it three times and a few biscuits to try and either help with his hangover or give him something to throw up in the morning. By the time I get him in bed it's half three in the morning and decide to just crash on the kids couch, not the first time doing it. I used to stay here quite a lot, some nights it's because we just hung around and got drunk other nights it's because I didn't trust him to be on his own. Catching the kid clearing evidence of his failed suicide was enough, couldn't imagine actually find him there, swinging, lifeless from the tree. Jesus. What the hell was that kid thinking?
(***)
I woke up to the sound of my name coming from somewhere behind me. I sat up with a jolt, looking out the window, with the sun where it is, I'm guessing it's about 6 in the morning. I look behind me and at the door way of Juice's lounge room, Juice is there in just his boxes, holding a glass of water in one hand and rubbing his eye with the other.
"Morning lad, how're feelin'?"
"Like shit," he said, turning around and headed towards the kitchen. I stood up, stretched and followed him to the kitchen. He was sitting at the table sipping on his water. I walk over to him, place a hand under his chin and tilt his face to get a better look at his cuts and bruises. I walk over to his first aid kit that I left on the bench earlier this morning and clean out the cut on his eye as it was pretty deep and didn't want it to get infected.
(***)
We were heading to TM in the truck, I could tell Juice had been trying to say something since breakfast but thought I'd just let him say it in his own time.
Pulling into TM Juice finally got it out, "so what? You beat the shit outta me and we're good?" asking sheepishly.
"Fuck no Juice. Like I said last night, I don't forgive yeh for wha' yeh did. But I'm willing to move past it. But you gotta trust us now kid. Trust that we love you brother and that we don't care who your family is. Considering that Jax has decided to move past your transgressions and that no one but him, Bobby and me know what yeh did, you need to as well." To that he nodded and got out of the truck. I caught up to him just before we got inside to go to Church, wrapped an arm around his neck, got a hand on the side of his face and pull it towards mine, gave him a kiss near his stupid skull tattoo and told him I loved him and let him go.