'Place the pennies on my eyes, I'll sleep with the stars tonight.'

Jace and Lillie get back together, and I move back home. Although I loved being around Tate and Jace all the time, it was nice to have my own space back.

Uni was the same, Chantelle avoided me, and I her. Even though she gave me Bella's address, I doubt any of us would be forgiving her any time soon. Her nose had healed, but the damage she did to Bella would take time, maybe there wasn't enough time for forgiveness.

Pulling up to my driveway I see two black Harleys.

Fuck.

It's too late to do anything but continue parking my bike, they knew my house now anyway; so may as well get this over with.

The two large men, dressed in dark clothing, with their leather jackets; that held the familiar patch of their bikie gang: The Dark Souls. An anchor with a snake wrapped around, with a small rose in each corner. They both stand smoking by my door as I try to control the tremors in my hands.

I carry my keys and helmet as calmly as possible. "How did you find me?" I ask.

"You not going to invite us in?" One of them smiles. They both have beards and even though I can fight, their body mass would be too strong for me to stand a chance.

"Why are you here?"

"Your father wants you to visit him," the first one says. The other one just doesn't seem to speak; his job is to intimidate me. Honestly, they both didn't need to come for that.

"No fucking way," I spit back.

The first guy smiles again, before dropping his cigarette butt to the ground. They both push pass me and head for their bikes. "Don't make me ask again," he says before slipping his helmet over his head and driving away. The sound of their bikes carrying long after they are out of site.

I stand there for a moment dumbfounded. Before launching my helmet at my front door. "FUCK!" How did they find me!? Why the fuck did my dad want to see me after all these years? The last time I saw him, I was ten. I rush inside for my smokes, lighting one up and sitting on the edge of my bed. I rock back and forth as the nicotine fills my lungs, calming the tremors in my hands.

I reach for my little leather book, my hand skimming over different words as my other hand brings the smoke to my lips. Don't have a freak out.

All I need right now is to hit something, over and over.

I need to get out of my tiny space before I demolish it all. But if I get on my bike now, I will be a danger to myself. One of my biggest fears is that maybe I am more like my father than I know. There is an anger inside me, one that I feel like I can't control at times.

I decide on a run. Surely that will help and stop me from breaking anything, or hurting myself.

I run until my legs burn and my lungs feel like they are going to give out. I'm not exactly in the right running gear with my vans and skinny jeans, but eventually I stop. Resting my hands on my legs, I breathe deep breathes back into my body. My hair is damp from sweat, and all I want now is another smoke. When the need to break everything in front of me begins to diminish, I head back.

My small apartment feels emptier than usual as I reach for my smokes. I light one up and sit on my bed again, images of my father plaguing my mind. We have the same dark brown eyes, but the rest of me I got from my mother. Dad is dark blonde, with hair that always looked like it needed to be washed. He was never clean shaven and most of his body is covered in tattoos; including one on the side of his face, but I couldn't remember what it was now. He also had a scar under his eye, it used to add to the fear of him when I was little.

I shake my head to try and get rid of all of his images, and reach for my phone to message Bella.

I go through another ten smokes waiting for her reply, but it never comes.

I begin pacing around my small area, trying to get a grip on my erratic mind, when there is a small knock on my door. I open the door to Bella on the other side, holding her keys with a small backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Hey," she smiles.

Relief floods every inch of my body. "Hey," I say shakily.

"Bad day?" She says with worry in her eyes and I nod. She drops her bag and wraps her arms around my neck, the alluring smell of her perfume comforts me immediately. I hold her with one arm against my body and keep my other away, so that I don't burn her with my cigarette.

She pulls away from me to search my face. "Thank you for coming," I say as I bring the cigarette back to my lips.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice is laced with concern, but I shake my head. I wasn't ready to talk about my past, it was painful enough getting small glimmers of it.

"Okay," she smiles reassuringly, like she will wait as long as I need. She puts her keys on my entry table and brings her bag over to my bed. "Why don't we go through some poetry together?"

She cuddles into the nook of my side as I turn through the pages of my leather book.

'I confess

I have grown tired of long

Dreams that take me back

To the point where they

Begin and I end,

Without us ever meeting in the morning.'

"Who was that?"

"Darwish," I say as I turn the page.

"You really like him," she notes.

I guess I did, I have all of his poetry in this book.

'Those that escape hell however

Never talk about it

And nothing much

Bothers them

After

That.'

"That was Charles Bukowski," I say before she asks. "Do you want me to keep reading more?"

"Please," she whispers. So, I light up another smoke and she closes her eyes as I read poem after poem, way into the night.