I looked over at Motley and noticed a dark expression cast over his face. It was one I had never seen before. “Motley, don’t listen to him,” I whispered. He just stood there in some frozen trance. It was as if something had seized him, body and soul. “Motley. Hey, don’t listen to him. Motley?” Motley kept his head hung low and quietly walked to Guy’s car. “What? Motley?” He searched around the trunk and pulled out a crowbar. “Motley? What’re you doing?” He held the crowbar tight in his hand and stared at it for a good minute. For the first time since I had known him, Motley looked terrifying. Dangerous. And he…fuck, he frightened me. “Motley.” He didn’t respond or even acknowledge me. This wasn’t the Motley I knew. No, this was the old Motley. The one who did some pretty fucking bad things.
Guy cackled as Motley slowly stalked back towards him. “Oh, songbird—” I snapped my head at him, shocked that he knew that nickname. His bloodshot eyes looked at me. “You think you’re damaged? You’re so fucking wrong. Your sweet little drummer boy has cracks so deep, even you can’t heal them.” He turned to face Motley and laughed as blood spat from his mouth. “Go on, you criminal. Use it. Hit me,” he coughed out. “Do it. But know it won’t stop your demons from coming back. They’ve latched onto your depraved soul, and just like a bloodhound, they’re following the scent of your weak heart. There’s no outrunning your past.” He smiled and exposed his blood-stained teeth. “Do it!” And just like that, Motley swung the crowbar and whacked Guy straight in the face. Blood splattered across my half naked body as I froze in horror at what just happened.
Motley. No.
Motley didn’t stop or let up, but instead kept swinging the crowbar. He was lost in the shadow of his old self. The only sounds he made were grunts that were echoed by the sounds of squelching as the crowbar hit Guy’s body. I stood there like a stone cold statue and watched him, clouded in such despair. Immense pain and anger poured from him like rain as he destroyed Guy’s body, and I realized just how haunted he was by his past. In that moment, I realized just how much it must frighten him to hear even the threat of it coming back to claim him. To hear even the possibility of being sucked back into that dreaded darkness. He had always been so strong for me, keeping me in line and helping me through my shit, all while battling his own. I had been so blind and selfish, unable to even see the damaged man before me. What was wrong with me? How couldI let things get so fucked. No more. Now, it was my turn. I needed to be there for him. It was my turn to be strong.
“Motley,” I whispered as I placed my hand along his back. Motley suddenly stopped, his body heaving as he breathed heavily. He slowly turned to look at me, his face painted and dripping with Guy’s blood as his eyes glared back at me, unusually dark and filled with a wickedness I wasn’t familiar with. No, not wickedness. Those vivid blue eyes were dark and cloudy, filled with something else: sadness. God, it fucking made my heart ache. “Motley,” I whispered again as I stepped closer to him and gripped the bloodied crowbar. He watched me closely, as if he didn’t know who I was or where we were, his grip staying firm on the weapon. He blinked a few times and looked around as the color returned to his bloodshot eyes. He noticed his blood-soaked hands and the crowbar firmly within them. Pieces of Guy’s flesh were stuck to the end and dangled in the air. He immediately shot his head back up and looked at Guy’s body, completely unrecognizable and destroyed. His blood and flesh splattered all across the ground as if he were a smashed piñata and the prize was his brains. Motley released the crowbar and stumbled back in fear as the realization settled in. “Oh fuck!” He nearly fell over, but I caught him and held the crowbar in my hand. His worrisome eyes stared at me. “Kash? What the fuck—what did I do?What did I do?” He shook me and repeated the question again and again as he panicked. The pain in his voice nearly made me cry. He was so hurt, so damaged by his past.
“It’s okay. I’m here.” I tried to calm him.
Motley looked back over at Guy’s body and fell to his knees while he gripped his bloodstained curly hair. “No, no, no, no!” Tears poured from his eyes. “What is wrong with me?”
I dropped the crowbar and gripped his face as I fell before him. Guy’s blood smeared from my palm across Motley’s skin. “Hey. Don’t say that!”
Motley tried to break free from my grasp, but I only held him tighter.
“Motley!” His eyes snapped to mine. “There is nothing wrong with you. Do you hear me? Nothing! You did nothing wrong!” I wiped his tears with my thumb. “You did nothing wrong.”
Motley swatted my hands away and pulled me close. His arms wrapped around my waist, and he sobbed against my stomach while he smeared Guy’s blood all over me. “I didn’t mean to do it!” I held him closer, and my heart ached at his cries. “I didn’t mean to do it, Kash! I swear! Fuck! I’m going to be sent back!”
I rubbed his back and leaned my head against it. “Don’t think about that right now. Everything is going to be okay.”
Motley pulled back. “How? How, Kash? I killed him!” You did. “But—I—didn’t have a choice! He threatened you, Kash. He threatened us both! Fuck, I didn’t mean to!”
I stood straight up and lifted his face as I forced him to look up at me. The blue of his eyes had fully returned and burned against his tears. “Hey,” I whispered. “None of that matters. It’s going to be okay. I’m here. And I’m going to take care of this. I’m going to take care ofallof this. We’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay, Motley. And you’re not going anywhere, you understand me?”
“How?” he asked. “I killed him. You can’t pretend that didn’t happen.” His eyes fell to his bloodied hands as they trembled. “I can’t go back to jail, Kash. I can’t. Not with my past. Not with…”
And I would never let you.
I wiped his tears and looked around. Thankfully, it seemed no one was around. And the sun was still not up, meaning if we moved fast we’d have just enough time to figure this out. To clean up this fucking mess. And as fucked as this whole thing was, I felt a little relieved. Guy was the one stalking our family, taking those photos and leaving messages. Why? I hadno fucking clue. But thanks to Motley, he was dead, and that meant he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened here or anything for that matter. As fucked as it sounded, we were safe. For now.
As my mind wandered, I looked out in the distance and searched for something—anything—that could make this fucked situation just a little easier. “There.” I pointed just off in the nearby distance. Motley’s eyes followed. “See that lake? It’s not far. I bet we could dump his body there, and no one would ever know. We just need to figure out how to get it there without being seen. And figure out what the hell we’re going to do with his car.” My head ached. So many fucking things to figure out.
Motley casually stood and wiped the tears from his face, smearing blood all over it, and slowly returned to the strong man he’d always been for me. He took a large, deep breath and looked back down at Guy’s mutilated body. I couldn’t tell what emotion was plastered across his face, but he was definitely deep in thought.
“Motley—”
“There’s a duffle bag in the trunk of his car. We can try to stuff him in it and drive the car out to the lake. That way no one sees us all bloodied, and we can try to dump both out there.” Not a bad idea.
I nodded and walked to the open trunk of Guy’s car. Just as Kash said, there was an oversized army green duffle bag, settled next to what I assumed was the case for his camera and a few random things. I tried to lift the bag, but it was surprisingly heavy. “What the—” I carefully unzipped the bag and gasped. “Motley.” My eyes widened at what I saw. “Motley!” He rushed to me, and I motioned down at the bag with my head. His eyes looked at what was before me, and he too gasped. “He…the…” I couldn’t form a sentence to save my life. “Fuck.”
Motley reached into the duffle bag and pulled out a handful of photos. We looked at them together, and our jaws dropped. There were countless polaroids of Carmen and her son. Some were of him sleeping, others of her half dressed or doing typical everyday tasks. Motley flipped through a few more. “He never got rid of them it seems. Fucking sicko.” It pissed us off to see so many photos of her and her son. “Wait.” He grabbed my arm as I reached for one. “There’s more.” Motley handed me a single photo. It was similar to the ones I had been sent before.
Of fucking course.
“So it was Guy, all this time,” I stated. I reached my hand in, searching the endless pile. I found more and more photos of Motley and I, along with even a few of Twila and me, raunchy photos of all members of the band. “He was stalking all of us!” I ripped a polaroid in anger. “He was following all of us, all this time!” I threw the ripped parts into the trunk and kicked the bumper. “Fuck!” I grabbed my head and growled in anger. “I should’ve known! I should’ve beat the shit out of him the first time we caught him! Damn it!” I punched the side of the car and panted as I tried to calm down.
Motley tossed the handful he had into the trunk, grabbed a new one, and sighed. “I guess he was. But why?” He leaned against the trunk, confused. “Why was he so obsessed with us? Don’t paparazzi usually follow all sorts of famous people? They don’t stalk one particular group.” He examined a handful of photos. “He seems to have had a real fixation with us in particular.” Pervert.
I turned back around and fumbled through the contents of Guy’s trunk. There had to be something in there that would explain his sick obsession. As I waved my hand through everything, I noticed something crumbled in the corner of the trunk. Curiosity took over and I reached for it. It was a handwritten letter addressed to Guy from— “Motley.” I lookedback at him. “I think I know why Guy was following us.” I handed him the paper and watched his expression change. “Or should I say…you.”
Motley’s face hardened as he read the letter. His hands trembled as his eyes filled with tears. He crumpled it back up and tossed it into the car. “So, Guy was working for Xavier. Fucking figures.” He remained still for a second until that hard mask of his cracked, exposing the real him. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He kicked the side of Guy’s car over and over until it was bent. Motley then threw his arms over his head and began to frantically pace in circles. “Fuck!” I knew he was terrified. There was only one person on this earth who scared the living shit out of Motley. And that was Xavier.
Shit just got really fucking bad.
Xavier was the leader of Motley’s old biker gang he used to run with. He was currently serving a life sentence in jail, which is why Motley didn’t want to go back. He had tremendous influence and power both in and outside the joint. And he always hated the fact that Motley was released. You see, Motley had willingly taken the fall for another gang member, a way to show his respect and devotion to the group. It was a setup, but he knew it was happening and didn’t fight it. Instead, he kept his head high and did his time. He wasn’t an ideal inmate, but he got by. His size and strength were helpful, and soon Motley was running that jailhouse. That is, until he was shockingly released on a technicality. Naturally, you’d think Xavier would be happy his muscle was out of jail. Wrong. With Motley out and walking free, the investigation that tossed him in there had resumed, and this time, they were able to track down the bigger dogs. Long story short, Xavier was somehow betrayed and caught. He was thrown into jail not long after Motley joined our band. He sent Motley a warning, long ago, warning him that one day he’d be right back where he belongs. Ever since, Motley has beenpetrified of ending back up in jail with Xavier. Regardless of how or why Xavier was arrested, he blamed Motley. And that alone terrified him. Once Xavier had a vendetta against someone, they didn’t live long enough to argue. Now, he had his sights set on Motley. He was using Guy to stalk and gather whatever he could on Motley and the band, presumably to figure out his weakness. And by the looks of those photos, he’d been doing it for a long fucking time. And he knew exactly what his weakness was. The real question was, now that he knew, what was Xavier going to do? Not just to me, but to all of us.
