Bumps and Bruises: A Hope Haven Motorcycle Club Romance

I have a vague memory of being happy when I was a child. Some memories and visions remain in my mind of the years following the sickness that snatched those things away from me. Like thorns hidden within the stem of a rose, it took the beauty of life away from my once happy home. In all its grandeur, a rose draws a person in, only for them to be pricked. That’s the best way I can explain how the illness placed me in my prison. Each year, another thorn grew, and the sickness stole more of my sight and hearing, leaving me in a world of darkness and silence. Although my hearing isn’t completely gone, I fear I will lose it completely one day.

I’ve learned to maneuver through the sizeable, stately mansion my family calls home. To me, it’s as comfortable as an old shoe. My father hires and fires servants almost as quickly as they arrive. It’s not their fault. They try their best to make sure they don’t leave things out for me to injure myself on, but when you’re not used to a house with someone constantly lurking around who needs constant supervision, accidents happen. Only a tiny few have been able to withstand the Thatcher household. My father’s temper doesn’t help either. I’m unsure who’s angrier about my condition, me or him. I feel like a hidden mine waiting to be discovered, and once found, will explode. In the way that my family ignores me, I feel like I’ve grown a third head. I’ll never know whether the avoidance is intentional, but they make it evident in their constant absence. They’re unsure what to do with me, except for one, and that one person I wish would avoid me most of all.

“We’re getting a new person today,” Mariam announces beside me.

I incline my head toward her to show her my interest, but I remain silent. I know I won’t have to wait for Mariam to continue. As the daughter of the head housekeeper at our residence, we grew up together. She’s the only friend I have. It’s rare for me to speak, and she knows it. She takes my hand and leads me out to the back gardens. Springtime is in the air as much as springtime can be in Pine Haven, Georgia. A recent rain shower causes the humidity of the afternoon heat to stick to my skin, but a soft breeze delivers the smells of fresh growth of flowers and plants. It’s my favorite place to be. At least here I can feel free.

“They’re bringing in a boy to help Mr. Stevens.”

I mouth the word “oh” to let her know I’d love to hear more. I can picture her smiling next to me.

“He’s a little older than us. He got into trouble with the law, and they’re placing him here for the summer to complete his probation.”

I can hear the pity in Mariam’s voice. Although she’s my friend, I’m not dumb either. I know my family is a complex family to deal with. We’ve resorted to finding help from parolees. They can’t escape as quickly as everyone else can. I think it’s a novel idea, but I’m nervous this will be the end of the freedom my family allows me to have, exploring the walls inside this monstrosity and the outside garden surrounding it. Opening my mouth, I’m about to ask when, but once again, Mariam seems to read my facial expression.

“He comes tomorrow.”