Desolate Souls (Forgotten Souls MC, #1) (39 page)

My gaze falls on the photo album in my hands, Alana’s goofy grin staring back at me. At six years of age, she captured my heart and never released it. She always said I helped her heal, but it was her that healed me. She taught me about love and life, making me believe that there was more out there than misery and pain. Page after page of photographs remind me of the times we shared, from our time in the group home to our time with Miss Mary.

Turning the page, my eyes land on Phil and Janet Martin, the picture taken outside the group home the day we left with them. I should’ve seen the menacing look in his eyes back then, but I had been so blinded by dreams of having a real family that I didn’t see it.

Slowly, with each turn of the page, I watch the glimmer in Alana’s eyes vanish, being replaced with a torment I did not notice at the time. Landing on the last picture I have from that time, I draw in a deep breath - a simple photograph that depicts the pain she kept bottled inside of herself for years. Taken as we waited at the bus stop on the last day of our school year, I am looking down at Alana in admiration while she stares straight into the camera, her eyes devoid of all emotion except for fear. How did I not see what she was going through until it was too late?

Taking in a deep breath, I turn the page. Staring back at me is an image I will never forget. Her hands places gently on her barely noticeable stomach, Alana smiles broadly at the camera, her eyes alive and shining with happiness – because of me and the child we created.

Not more than a month after that picture was taken, Alana was ripped from me. To this day, I still do not know entirely what happened during her time with Paul and possibly never will.

That first night, I kept vigil at her bedside and prayed for the impossible, but Alana never recovered. The combination of everything in her past mixed with the horror of watching Paul put a gun to his own head was more than most people could take. Delivering your own flesh and blood and having them die in your arms was irreparable. In that moment, the Alana Jacobs I loved with all of my heart vanished.

When Alana awoke the following day, my world crumbled. She had no recollection of what had occurred. In a way, it was a blessing in disguise. Forgotten was all the pain and agony I knew she would be feeling, but Alana didn’t just forget the past few days – her mind erased everything. Her parents, the abuse at the hands of the Martin’s, Paul’s betrayal and suicide, and the death of our son.

Dissociative Amnesia, the doctor called it. A form of selective memory loss where Alana’s mind eliminated all recollection of traumatic events in her life. She knew who she was, could remember happy times in her past, but everything surrounding the trauma in her life had simply vanished – including me.

I held out hope, believing that Alana would one day remember me, but that day never came. Our love, all the passion and trust was gone. I was nothing more than a stranger to her, a person of no significance, and five years later, it still breaks my heart.

“Daddy?” Closing the photo album, I place it on the table and look up just as Ava begins her descent down the staircase. “Unc Doo says I can’t hab anymo crookies.”

Rising to my feet, I scoop my daughter into my arms and smile down at her precious face. “He did, did he? And how many cookies did you eat?”

“Fibe,” she giggles, holding up her hand and making my heart sing.

“I think Uncle Deuce is right. Your mama won’t be happy with any of us if she comes home and sees all the cookies are gone.”

“But I need ‘em...” she whines, giving me that sad face that is so hard to say no to.

“Is that so? How about I make you a deal? You go clean your room,” I begin, setting her on her feet, “and when you’re finished, I’ll let you have one more cookie.”

“Yay!” she shouts, jumping up and down in excitement. Within seconds, she is climbing the stairs in a hurry to get to her room.

As she disappears up the stairs, I let out a ragged breath. Walking over to the table, I pick up the photo album and place it in the box beside it and close the lid, locking away the last piece of Alana’s and my history. Looking around the now barren room, my heart feels heavy. Saying goodbye is never easy, but it’s time to finally close this chapter of my life. 

“O
nce upon a time there was this little boy who looked up into the night sky and made a wish. He didn’t ask for money or a shiny new toy. He wanted to know what love felt like and for a long time, he never thought he would experience it firsthand. And then you walked into my life. I took one look at you and there was no turning back. In you, I found everything I never thought I deserved.”

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A
single tear escapes my eye as replay his vows in my mind, each of them heartfelt and true. There is no doubt in my mind that he loves me and would do anything for me, even start over.

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“S
o on this day, I give you my heart and my promise that I will walk hand in hand with you wherever our journey leads us. Sometimes in the middle of life, love enters and gives us a fairy tale. Fate brought us together and destiny is providing our happily ever after.” 

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S
aying I do was easy. I feel like I have known him my entire life, yet we’ve only been together five years – at least that’s my take on it. 

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W
hen I awoke in the hospital a little over six years ago, I was surrounded by complete strangers. Terrified doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt, but what was even more horrifying was learning what I had forgotten. Not just a few random events, but the majority of my existence. Only bits and pieces remained. How does someone move forward from such a thing?

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T
he answer wasn’t so simple. Remembering meant reliving the events that had traumatized me to the point that my mind shut down. I didn’t want to remember, I wanted to escape, and that’s exactly what I did, which lead me to Danny.

As I look out into the darkened sky, I think about where my life is today and wonder if it would be the same for the old Alana. I am now happily married to a wonderful man and together we created a child that I love more than life itself. Would life had been the same for her or would she be reliving the trauma in her life on a daily basis? 

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“I
thought I’d find you out here.” Turning around, my eyes land on the man who stole my heart from the moment we met.

“I just needed some  fresh air,” I smile up at him. 

“Is that all?” he asks, taking the seat beside me. 

“I was doing some thinking too,” I admit. “About the old me. Would she be as happy as I am today?”

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“I
’d like to think so,” he says as he drapes his arm across my shoulder, pulling me to him. “What’s really bothering you, Lana?”

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“W
hat if it all comes back one day and I can’t take it? What if I lose even more of myself than I already have?” The thought weighs heavily on me every single day. 

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“I
f that ever happens, I’ll be there holding your hand through it all.”

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“L
ike you’ve done since the beginning,” I say as I rest my head on his shoulder.

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“I
f you ever fall Alana, I’ll be right there to catch you and if I can’t, I will lay down beside you. We’re in this together.”

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I
know he will because he would do anything for me. “Did Deuce tell you I was out here?”

“So you’re finally starting to call him Deuce now,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, it’s kind of grown on me,” I smile. If not for Deuce, or as I called him for so long, Danny, wouldn’t know what true happiness is. “You miss her, don’t you?”

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S
lowly, Jax lifts my chin until my eyes meet his. “How can I miss someone who never left my heart?”

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“B
ut I’m not the same Alana I used to be. You said so yourself.”

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“Y
ou’re right. But you are the Alana you were always meant to be. Free of pain and misery. I was just lucky enough to have you fall in love with me twice in this lifetime. It’s a gift I’ll never take for granted,” he whispers, his lips lowering to my own. 

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“I
love you Jax,” I say as he pulls away.

“And I love you Alana, forever...”

Forgotten Souls MC Book Two

(Deuce & Ember’s Story)

By Kira Johns

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Copyright © 2015 by

Kira Johns

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Prologue

“D
addy please!” I cry out as he drags me by my leg towards the cellar. As he reaches the top of the stairs, my hands instinctively go to protect my head as he begins his descent down the narrow stair case, paying no mind to my cries as my skull bounces on each step until we reach the bottom.

“Shut up, maggot!” he shouts as he yanks me up by my hair, his eyes filled with rage. He hates me. He’s always hated me. I am nothing more than a painful reminder of the love he lost, and for that he will never forgive me.

Gripping my hair tightly in his hand, he marches forward, stopping when he reaches the dog crate positioned at the far end of the room. The pungent smell coming from within it is overwhelming, causing me to gag.

There is no regret in his eyes as he shoves me inside, where I will stay for an undetermined amount of time, and latches it shut behind me. “Next time you decide to help yourself to anything of mine, it will be your last!” he spews before slamming his fist on top of the cage causing me to cower in the corner of the tiny enclosure. Turning on his heel, he makes his way across the room, disappearing up the stairs.

Holding my breath, I wait for the inevitable as the door slams shut behind him. One. Two. Three. I begin to tremble as I am engulfed by darkness, not even a glimmer of light visible to offer any hope. Because there is no hope. There is only pain and misery.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I pray for a miracle, one that will never come. This is my past, present and future.

Isolated. 

Afraid.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

When the door opens sharply, I jerk my eyes open in fear knowing my nightmare is just beginning. Through the tiny bars, I watch my father as he stalks across the room towards me.

My gaze is affixed to the shovel in his hand. There is no fear as accept my fate. I don’t bother to resist him as he drags me from my confines, not even a whimper escaping my lips knowing what is about to come. Tonight my nightmare ends. There will be no more pain.

I feel only peace as he drags me out into the backyard, slamming me harshly to the ground. There is no regret in his eyes as I sit there solemnly, watching him struggle to dig my grave.

I am one of the forgotten.

Never to be remembered.

Never to know love.

I am desolate. Undeserving.

That is how I came into this world and how I must leave it.

To be continued...

T
here are so many people I want to give a shout out to for making all of this possible.

As always, I want to thank my husband. You are my rock and without you, this would all be meaningless. Your understanding and encouragement knows no bounds. I love you baby, always and forever!

To my son who would peer over my shoulder as I worked. Thank you for being so accepting when I was working hard on completing this story. Not too many twelve year olds would be so considerate. Love you!

My daughter, who listened to my plot ideas and gave input – you are one of a kind. Thank you for not being a typical teenager and for your thoughtfulness throughout. I love you!

Then there are the people who were with me throughout the writing process, allowing me to bounce ideas off them and giving me the strength to go on:

Monica Holloway – You were there from the beginning, reading each chapter as it was completed and putting in your two cents. Thank you for putting up with my annoying self and giving me reassurance when I needed it most. You motivated me to continue working (man candy always motivates me!) and made me laugh. As if that wasn’t enough, you are my creative designer, making a kick ass cover and some amazing teasers! You are simply fabulous!