Burn for you (English)

Chapter 6

In moments like these, the flashbacks became bloodhounds whose existence was to keep me trapped in the shackles of the past until the images in my head seemed more real than reality.

Taken by fear, I did not move an inch.

Physically, I no longer had any power, but mentally I looked for excuses, nooks and crannies that could offer me protection. The search for such a refuge always remained unsuccessful, at least I had never thought of one until now. Now single, warm sunbeams broke through the heavy darkness, as if it were nothing else than thin glass, which shattered in the light. The brighter it got, the more contours appeared before my inner eye. The tiny closet of our house gave way to a dusty desert landscape, withered shrubs in the wilderness, lone cacti, and right in between, a cluster of numerous shacks, trailers, and containers. They lined a house, larger than all the surrounding ones and for that reason alone the center of the scenario. But it wasn't the unfamiliar grounds and main house that caught my attention. It was a broadly built biker with hair tousled by the wind and piercing blue eyes.

"They're gone."

The words were clear, the voice too loud to have come only from my head. With astonishment, I opened my eyelids, blinked away tears, and realized I was no longer locked in. The door was open, light flooded the black corners of the small chamber. And Reaper stood before me.

Before, the memory had crushed me under its weight until I thought I would drown in it, but now buoyancy gripped my soul, bringing it back to the surface where I breathed freely.

Relief swept through me at that moment like a breaking wave that I rushed forward to do the one thing I longed to do: cling to the saving anchor that appeared to me. Filled with gratitude, my arms wrapped around Reaper's hard torso and I pressed against him with all the strength that was in my cold, limp limbs.

"Don't lock me up," I breathed through my tears, shaking my head over and over. I curled my fingers into his strong back, burying my face against his chest at the same time. It was warm, unwavering like a rock in the surf that continued to rage inside me.

For tiny moments, when the head didn't seem to comprehend what the body was doing here, we stood motionless. Wordless, until a hand found its place at my waist. "No one will ever lock you up again."

It was the gruff, growling voice I was used to hearing from Reaper's mouth, but it didn't scare me away. Not this time, for the anger of the dark tone was not directed at me, but solely at Elijah, whose existence the man in my arms now knew about.

I nodded and slowly came to my senses.

"Come with me." He disengaged me from him enough to reach for my hand.

Deep wrinkles formed on my forehead, to which Reaper responded with a mischievous grin that he tossed over his shoulder. He immediately seemed years younger. "I'll show you what freedom feels like."

The questioning look gave way to amazement as I ran the back of my hand over my moist eyes, but I asked no questions.

We seemed to be in a hurry, literally stumbling out the back door of the clubhouse into the cool desert winter. The parking lot was quite empty, the patrol cars and some guests had disappeared, so I quickly realized what our destination was.

I caught sight of his motorcycle for the first time in all its black glory. It had lost none of its original intimidation, much like its owner, the sight of which fueled the thrill of every encounter. The paint shone in the sun, possibly freshly polished, but despite its slick appearance, it bristled with power and untamedness.

At first I didn't understand what Reaper was up to until he let go of my hand and took a seat on the vehicle. "Hop on." he instructed me and started the engine.