Taste of Vengeance ✔

Chapter 6

Abigail sat in front of the toilet, throwing up her stomach contents.

Not for the reason that she had wanted to do that, however. Contrary to what she had told Juice, she wasn't pregnant. Every hour since their last intimacy she had begged God to give her a child, a lasting memory of the man she loved with every fiber of her being. A means to ease her pain, to ease his pain.

Three days ago that dream had shattered when her period started. She would never carry his child. Her last words to him had been lies and empty promises. Shatters of her broken dreams. She however felt no remorse. He was gone now; he would never know. The reason that she was feeling so sick, that her whole body was shaken up. She knew how badly he had wanted to start a family with her, once things within the club had settled down. It had been his dream – their dream, and she had wanted to give him that illusion, that spark of happiness during those last hours of his life.

Abigail wiped her eyes. Her throat felt sore, her eyes puffy because of all the tears she had shed. Her legs felt weak, but she knew that she had to man up. There were so many arrangements to make. She had to call his mother and sister, had to pick a coffin, a headstone. Later there would be plenty of time to cry – now she wanted to give him the farewell that he deserved, even when there would only be a few people willing to leave a flower at his grave.

Gathering her strength, she stood up and went downstairs. In silence she carried out her tasks, until the rambling of a bike dragged her out of her thoughts. Juice! Even though he hadn't lived in this house the past months, it was still the first thought crossing her mind. It would stay that way for a long time, she knew, feeding her pain again and again. For he was gone. For good.

Although she didn't want to see her father, she walked to the front door. She knew what he was going to tell her and he wouldn't leave before he had spoken to her.

As she opened the door, she watched him in silence. He looked tired, his face bleak, bags under his eyes.

"Oh my love..." he sighed sadly as he saw her. "I'm so sorry. We just got a call – "

"I know," she said softly. "I know he's gone. He called me, a couple hours ago."

Chibs sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "Com'ere," he said, holding out his arm.

Abigail stepped back, shaking her head. "Just be there at his funeral."

"Abby..."

"Be there!" she snapped, grabbing the door knob. "He's dead! He's dead because of your stupid club! If you love me, even if it's just a little bit, you will be there for me. As my father and not some cold-heart biker asshole!" Tears slipped her eyes, brusque she wiped them away. "I'm leaving Charming after the funeral. If you don't show up, I'll never return. Every single one of you who doesn't pay their respects, will be torn out of my heart for good." Taking a deep breath, she looked at him. "He is gone, but I'm not. I need you there. You. My friends. My family. At least if there's still something left of that those days."

Before he could say anything, she slammed the door. The blow echoed through the empty house. With her back against the door she glided down until she was sitting on the floor. The pain defeated the anger, she started to sob again. More than ever she longed for his strong arms. She would never feel them around her again. Never.

A freezing cold crept inside her.

He was gone.

"I don't know how to move on without you," she whispered, burying her face in her hands. "I don't want to. I want you here baby. I just want you here." Her cries drowned out her whispers and she kept sitting there, all alone. The strength that had kept her going ever since he went missing, was gone.

She was broken and bruised and she doubted anyone could ever heal her again.