Chapter 3: Time and Time Again

"Holy fuck." I sat around that damn house for what felt like hours, waiting for the next thing to happen. I know I should've been more mad, but it seems like I had accustomed very well to prison life- doing nothing and staring at the same 4 walls. There I was, fresh out of prison doing ... absolutely nothing. I rummaged until I found a pack of stale cigarettes and a half empty bottle of whiskey in the cupboard. I'm pretty sure they were mine, leftover from my last drinking binge.

I glanced at the clock, my eyes instantly rolling around into the back of my head. It was almost 9 o'clock in the evening. Where the fuck was everyone? Anyone? The silence was starting to get to me, so I turned the radio on, a soft rock lightly playing in the background as I walked into the bedroom, a lit cigarette dangling between my lips and four fingers of whiskey in my hand.

I rummaged through the pants on the floor, until I managed to scrounge up a few dollars. I guess pizza it is, since no one else bothered to feed the recently released convict a decent first meal home. I sighed, throwing back the whiskey and groaning. "Fuck," I grimaced, the foreign slow burn erupting in my throat and chest. How the hell did I use to do this before? Holy fuck. He said he would be back tonight. That we would talk. Yeah, okay. I'm sure he forgot about me just as soon as he walked out that fucking door. I dropped onto the couch, my feet up on the coffee table, as I stared aimlessly at the tv.

I woke up a few hours later, the pizza half eaten, the whiskey bottle empty. And there he was, asleep a few inches away from me on the couch. I sat up, my body sore from the awkward sleeping position I had just took part in. "Chibs," I said, softly, reaching over and shaking his thigh lightly. He opened his eyes, glancing up at me, a small smile on his face.

"Hey, love," he half-whispered, his voice hoarse. "What time is it?"I asked, standing up and stretching my body out. "Early," he said, shoving his phone back into his pocket. I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, my mouth dry. He came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and drawing me into him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, he mouth on my throat.

I felt myself start to stiffen, as his beard scratched against my skin. Come on, girl. Don't start to freak out. This is what you wanted, right? This is what you spent the first year thinking about. Coming back home to him. I sighed, reminding myself to keep it together. "I know, this isn't what you were expecting to come home to. I dropped the ball, things came up…" His hands began to trail down my arms.

"It's okay," I replied, trying to clear my mind and enjoy the moment. I pushed down the anxiety that was rising in me. The millions of questions I wanted to ask right now. The millions of answers I needed at this very moment. But I clenched my eyes and I buried them deep, along with the trauma I had experienced the last couple of years.

His hands went further south and stopped at my waistband. Fuck. I flinched. I didn't mean to, but I just couldn't stop myself. I felt him take a step back and drew in a breath. "Jessie Mae," he said. God, the way he said my name. I had spent so many countless nights imagining him whispering it into my ear, but this… this was not what I wanted. The pity between each syllable. The millions of questions I'm sure he now wanted to ask. The millions of answers I didn't want to give.

"Just do it," I spat out, wanting to get it over with. Yes, I had spent countless nights imagining how his hands were going to feel on me- in the beginning. But as my release date grew closer and closer, I realized I was afraid. Of not being good enough. Of not measuring up to the woman I was- a ghost. Jessie Mae Telford was dead. I wasn't the same anymore. Would that be good enough for him? This was a band aid I just needed to be ripped off.

"No!" He exclaimed, turning me around and forcing him to look at me. I threw myself at him, tugging on his shirt and trying to disrobe him. I reached for his pants, trying to open them. Chibs grabbed my wrists and drew them together, placing them on his chest. "Stop it," he said, as I struggled to remove myself from his grasp.

I could feel my hands going numb as he dug his fingers into my wrists, the fight starting to leave me. "I know you think you were doing the right thing, leaving me off your visitor list. You kept me from you, all those years. They didn't- you did. I have no idea what's happened to you, what hell you've been through, but I do know that this is not what you want. Not like this." My hands dropped as he let go of me, running a hand over his face.

I could feel the anger building, the rage inside of me eager to explode. One thing about me sure hadn't changed, I was still just as self destructive as ever. I shoved him, cursing the very second he had walked into my life. I was mad. At him, at everyone, but most of all- myself. I continued shoving him, punching and clawing at his chest. Not once did he fight back, or push me away. He just took it, as I pinned him against the kitchen wall and berated him.

And he took it all, every blow, until I had no more fight left in me. I collapsed against his chest, crying hysterically, angry at it all. "Shush, love. It's going to be okay. I'm here now," he whispered, running his hands through my hair. We stood there with my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, as I cried out 5 years worth of anger and pain. I pulled away, breathless, wiping the tears from my face.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice small, "I just…." Chibs reached out and pulled me towards him, his hand on the small of my back. "Can I kiss you? Hold you?" He asked, drawing my hand to his chest. I nodded, allowing him to bring his face close to mine. "You lead, baby girl," he said. He'll follow. I reached up to his face, running my fingertips on his lips, trying to put myself in his shoes. How had the last 5 years treated him? I could only imagine that they were just as bad as mine were. A part of me wished they were just as bad, if not worse.

I lifted my face and kissed him tenderly, almost as if it were the first time again all over again. The butterflies in my stomach, reminded me of that fateful night behind the clubhouse, the night that set the rest of my life in motion. He kissed me back, the smell of his cologne and cigarettes enveloping me. As the kiss went on, I relaxed my body, starting to crave him more and more.

He pulled away from me, his eyes finding mine. "My love," he whispered, his hands reaching up and brushing back the hair from my forehead. I vibrated at the feel of his calloused fingertips on my skin. "You're as beautiful as the day I married you." God, this man… it was like he knew exactly what I needed to hear. "Tell me..." There it went, the quiet voice again. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to stare back into his eyes and to speak up. "Tell me you still want me." I blinked back tears, trying to steady myself. This was not the moment to lose my shit. Again.

Chibs smiled. "I want you more now than ever," he replied, reaching down and crushing his mouth against mine. I kissed him back, clawing at his shirt. I needed to feel him, feel his skin against mine. He pulled my shirt off and I could feel his eyes skimming my broken body. What once used to be beautiful, was now covered by lingering bruises and scars from the last 5 years. Chibs picked me up, dropping me on the kitchen table, as he pushed everything on it to the floor.

I ripped my jeans off, as he unbuckled his. Within moments, he was between my legs, his fingers entering me. I arched my back, moaning and grinding against his hand, as I gripped the table with my fingers. He reached up and brought my face to his, gripping the back of my head and staring into my eyes. "Tell me you want this," he said, smashing his mouth against mine and kissing me roughly. My response was a moan against his mouth, as I reached over and brought his body closer to mine.

"Tell me," he said, his hand now caressing my face. "I want you," I said. How could I not? I gave up my entire life for him, for his club, his world. I could no longer describe myself without him. I leaned back on the table, letting him slide inside me. I felt my legs shake as he filled me, a feeling that was both scary and pleasurable to me. I shut my eyes, as I wrapped my legs around him, his fingers digging into my thighs. I pushed down all the vivid images of the hell I experienced at the hands of the prison guards. I promised myself that this was nothing like that. He was different from the chaos that consumed me for far too long. He was mine.

I forced myself to look at him, how his hair clung to the sweat on his forehead and forced myself to confirm that he wasn't them- an animal. I watched as he moaned, throwing his head back, his hips digging into mine. The rise and fall of his chest, as he moaned. I rose up to meet his every thrust, until he collapsed on top of me, breathless. "Did you...?" He asked into my shoulder, trying to catch his breath. I shook my head. No, I can't seem to get my head out of my ass long enough to keep it together. Can't even muster a goddamn orgasm.

He pulled away from me, a scowl on his face. Chibs put his pants back on, his brows furrowed together. "I'm sorry," I half-whispered, as he drew me into a hug. This was it, huh? The beginning of the end. I couldn't even let the man say he dicked down his wife on her first night home. Jesus fucking Christ. He held me tight, running a hand up and down my back. "Jessie Mae, what happened darling?" He asked, his head lost in my hair.

I pulled away from him, hopping off the table and walking to the fridge. I pulled a beer out of it, popping the top off and downing half of it in one single breath. He watched me as I paced in the small kitchen, frustration oozing out of my pores. "What happened?" He asked, more forceful this time. Chibs stepped towards me, he wasn't dropping this. I faced him, my eyes wild. "What the fuck didn't happen, Chibs?" I yelled, throwing the beer across the room.

He didn't budge, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for an answer. "Tell me," he demanded and I laughed in response. "Tell you? Tell you what? How I was locked up like a fucking dog and tortured every god damn day? How they fucking beat and raped me on every day that ended in a fucking Y?" I screamed back. I saw his face fall as I began to sob. He took a step towards me and I held my hands up. "Don't you fucking dare," I yelled. "Don't look at me with your pity."

I leaned against the counter, trying to hold myself up as I failed miserably to choke down the sobs. When my legs gave way, he picked me up like the broken child I was and carried me into the bedroom. He held my head on his chest as I cried, until the tears ran dry. My fingers found their way to his beads, rubbing each one as I silently wished for it all to be over. The pain. The fear. The angst. I had never been good at dealing with any of it. That's what had driven me to drugs and alcohol time and time again.

And here I was, once again. Knee deep in this shit.