realization. Something I’d intended on doing even before she came in here and blew my world apart. I promised myself I would do whatever it took to win her back.
It took me three weeks of doing shit I’d never done before, and would never do again for any other woman to win her over. Flowers, chocolates, sappy love notes, and trinkets, but in the end she forgave me and I never looked back. Not once did I begrudge having to work at it to get her back. My woman is stubborn as hell, and she may not have made it easy for me, but the fight was worth it, because when I had her it was magnificent.
I eventually accepted I’d never know the origin of her scars. I didn’t like it and I wished someday she’d tell me, but I stopped pushing. After that we fell into the beautiful kind of life I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have, and it wasn’t until the clusterfuck with Stacey that we ran into problems even close to the ones we had during our rocky start.
Our life wasn’t without its ups and downs though. We fought. She cried. I yelled. But every time, before we went to bed, we kissed and made up without fail, so in my book it was all good. It was as close to perfection as you can get…Until it wasn’t. And what Priest had just told me took care of that.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tallulah
“No, I didn’t lose my mind…
It got scared and ran away screaming.”
- Rotten eCard
Saint saying Elias’s name simultaneously chilled me to the bone and sent my blood boiling. I never wanted to hear that monsters name ever again, let alone have it fall from the lips of my husband. Emotions I wasn’t ready to address, nor did I think I ever would be, bombarded me. My only escape was the blissful darkness I fell into only seconds later.
Elias ‘Demon’ Walker is my Uncle by blood. My tormentor too, but I’m sure you already worked that one out for yourselves. Once, a long time ago, I loved him fiercely, almost as much as my Dad, but then one day that all changed. I went from hero worshipping him to despising him in the matter of a day. I’d never had cause to distrust him before, so I didn’t pick up on any signs that would alert me he was any danger to me. He had always just been my Uncle Eli. That was until he took on another name, one very similar to his club name in fact.
When I was eight years old I wanted to be a ballerina. Seriously, what little girl hasn’t had that dream at one time or another? My mom enrolled me in dance classes, dropping me off and picking me up after every lesson. One afternoon mom got stuck picking Priss up from cheerleading because their practice session had run over, and asked Uncle Eli to collect me. I was excited to see him so I could show off what I’d learned in class that day, and like always, he was more than happy to watch, encouraging me the whole time.
Taking me back to his place, that was where he told me mom was picking me up from, wasn’t an odd because I often spent time there. Most of that time either Priss, mom, or dad were with me, but I loved my Uncle so much that any time I got to spend with him alone I cherished. That day something was off with him though. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something in the distant way he answered my questions and the way he was staring at me made me uneasy. But at the tender age of eight, when an adult tells you they’re fine, that everything is okay, you blindly, and stupidly believe them. And that wasn’t any different for me. I didn’t even think to question he wasn’t telling me the truth. Why would I?
A lot of that first day is still a blur to me. Things happened so quickly that I have trouble dissecting reality from the all-encompassing terror I felt. Going inside, dropping my backpack at the door like always, and heading to the kitchen for a snack, I was brought up short when Uncle Eli wrapped his huge hand around my bicep. He roughly yanked me to an
It took me three weeks of doing shit I’d never done before, and would never do again for any other woman to win her over. Flowers, chocolates, sappy love notes, and trinkets, but in the end she forgave me and I never looked back. Not once did I begrudge having to work at it to get her back. My woman is stubborn as hell, and she may not have made it easy for me, but the fight was worth it, because when I had her it was magnificent.
I eventually accepted I’d never know the origin of her scars. I didn’t like it and I wished someday she’d tell me, but I stopped pushing. After that we fell into the beautiful kind of life I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have, and it wasn’t until the clusterfuck with Stacey that we ran into problems even close to the ones we had during our rocky start.
Our life wasn’t without its ups and downs though. We fought. She cried. I yelled. But every time, before we went to bed, we kissed and made up without fail, so in my book it was all good. It was as close to perfection as you can get…Until it wasn’t. And what Priest had just told me took care of that.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tallulah
“No, I didn’t lose my mind…
It got scared and ran away screaming.”
- Rotten eCard
Saint saying Elias’s name simultaneously chilled me to the bone and sent my blood boiling. I never wanted to hear that monsters name ever again, let alone have it fall from the lips of my husband. Emotions I wasn’t ready to address, nor did I think I ever would be, bombarded me. My only escape was the blissful darkness I fell into only seconds later.
Elias ‘Demon’ Walker is my Uncle by blood. My tormentor too, but I’m sure you already worked that one out for yourselves. Once, a long time ago, I loved him fiercely, almost as much as my Dad, but then one day that all changed. I went from hero worshipping him to despising him in the matter of a day. I’d never had cause to distrust him before, so I didn’t pick up on any signs that would alert me he was any danger to me. He had always just been my Uncle Eli. That was until he took on another name, one very similar to his club name in fact.
When I was eight years old I wanted to be a ballerina. Seriously, what little girl hasn’t had that dream at one time or another? My mom enrolled me in dance classes, dropping me off and picking me up after every lesson. One afternoon mom got stuck picking Priss up from cheerleading because their practice session had run over, and asked Uncle Eli to collect me. I was excited to see him so I could show off what I’d learned in class that day, and like always, he was more than happy to watch, encouraging me the whole time.
Taking me back to his place, that was where he told me mom was picking me up from, wasn’t an odd because I often spent time there. Most of that time either Priss, mom, or dad were with me, but I loved my Uncle so much that any time I got to spend with him alone I cherished. That day something was off with him though. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something in the distant way he answered my questions and the way he was staring at me made me uneasy. But at the tender age of eight, when an adult tells you they’re fine, that everything is okay, you blindly, and stupidly believe them. And that wasn’t any different for me. I didn’t even think to question he wasn’t telling me the truth. Why would I?
A lot of that first day is still a blur to me. Things happened so quickly that I have trouble dissecting reality from the all-encompassing terror I felt. Going inside, dropping my backpack at the door like always, and heading to the kitchen for a snack, I was brought up short when Uncle Eli wrapped his huge hand around my bicep. He roughly yanked me to an
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