Chapter 31: Chapter 31

Chapter 31 Sorry

Ace's POV:

The smell of cigarette smoke stains my clothes and loud country music pounds in my ears. All around me, scantily clad women and men hoping to get laid court each other.

I cringe as I watch as the individuals engage in small, dirty talk.

I avert my attention away from them and towards my drinks. The bartender happily serves me shot after shot of whiskey.

The whiskey burns my throat as it slides down and fills my stomach.

Here I am, once again, drowning my feelings and problems in alcohol. I should know by now that when I sober up, reality comes crashing back to me with a much more powerful force than before.

But I don't care. I'm more concerned with how I feel now than later.

"E'ye man, you must'n really like that there whiskey, eye?" A drunk man says as he stumbles into the seat next to me.

I scoff, and keep my gaze straight. I don't care to look at him. "What's it to you?"

"Oy, nothin'. I just thought of somethin' better than alcohol to cure yer obvious problem." He replies, hiccuping.

I clench my glass tighter in my hand and take a sip.

"And what would that be?" I ask, my voice low and deep.

"A woman, man. Nothin' like having one of them youngin's in yer bed." He says, chuckling drunkenly.

"I don't want any of those women." I scowl.

"Ohh, you got a lady back at home huh? C'mon, man. Your wife won't know if ya do everything right!" He exclaims, giving me a pat on the back.

So damn annoying.

The corner of my lip twitches in anger. "Leave me alone."

"Eye, lad. No need to git angry on me." He replies, chuckling, "I'm just tryna help a lone soul."

He's not taking me serious.

"I don't need your help, or anyone's for that matter. I suggest you run along before you irritate me further." I growl.

But he doesn't listen, instead, he calls out. "Eye, bartender! Git me my usual."

The bartender nods and makes the requested drink, and hands it to the irritating drunk man. "Here ya go. The ladies always like this drink. It's strawberry. These 'er women love lips that taste like strawberry." He says, chuckling.

I think he's about to shut up but he continues.

"I got this youngin' woman with this 'ere drink. I had fun with her in the alley out back, I got 'er kickin' and screamin', begging me not to, but it was all for show. But a pity it was indeed when some dark man took 'er from me, eye. He twas crazy, shootin' me with in this 'er stomach with his weapon. I crawled to the damn hospital."

I clench my jaw in anger.

This sick pig tried to force a woman with him.

My mind flashes to Dakota. She has been scarred because of instances like that.

And then I snap.

I quickly turn around to face this man and I don't think twice before I grip his shoulders and throw him off the chair he was sitting at. He hits the floor hard, and the strawberry drink follows him, the glass shattering in pieces and coating him in the sticky artificial liquid.

"I don't want your damn drink." I scowl angrily.

"Woah, woah, woah, man. You could have just asked me to leave you alone!" The man on the floor exclaims. He has scraggly brown curly hair and pale skin. I roll my eyes at his stupidity.

I grip the collar of his shirt and slam his back against the nearby wall.

"It's not just your drink I'm angered about anymore." I say angrily, my voice sounding dangerous.

"Uh, ah! What's this all about-"

His disgusting breath fans my face. "You sick fuck." I growl.

I let my fist fly into his face with such a hard force that a sickening crack resounds around the room. Blood spurts from his nose, and he cries out in pain.

"S-stop. Leave me alone, man!" He cries out.

I throw my head back and laugh darkly. "Did you listen when that woman in the alley begged you to stop?"

No answer.

Silence.

"That's what I thought. Do tell me, how does it feel to have the tables turned?" I ask as I throw my foot into his abdomen, causing him to go sliding across the floor. He knocks into some chairs which go crashing to the ground.

In a speed I didn't think was possible, the man jumps to his feet with a beer bottle in his hands and bashes it across my forehead. The bottle shatters upon impact, and I groan in pain.

Blood drips into my eyes, and I lunge at the man.

I attack him with my fists, aiming for his abdomen and head.

Some people rush around to see the fight, while others don't pay any attention. The bartender rolls his eyes and mutters why didn't I go to college before making a phone call to, I reckon, the police.

I kick the man's legs out from under him, and he tumbles across the floor, this time knocking over tables and drinks with him. He gasps for air, clutching his abdomen. When he pulls his hand away, it is covered in blood.

"Damn it, you tore my bullet wound stitches open you brute!" He yells.

I stalk after him, and his eyes widen in fear as he pathetically tries to crawl away from me on the floor.

But I catch him.

A predator cannot let his prey escape now, can he?

I grip his throat and slam him against the wall for one last time. I tighten my hands around his throat to cut off oxygen for him, making sure to make this as uncomfortable as possible for him.

He gasps and sputters for air, and I move my head closer to his ear.

"Be lucky that's the only thing I tore open." I say, my voice sounding low and intimidating.

And then I leave.

I leave behind carnage and a gasping man on the floor, groaning in pain. I leave before the cops show up, because someone such as me running into the cops is never a good thing.

Got to get home. I think to myself as I stumble along the sidewalk.

Luckily the distance is not too far, and I find myself wearily stumbling through the doors.

Definitely had too much to drink. I think bitterly.

Must clean up before Katelin-

"Ace! Where in the world have you-" Katelin scolds, crossing her arms over her chest. "What did you do to yourself this time?"

Shit.

"I uh, I just had a few drinks." I mumble.

"A few? Clearly you've had more than a few. You reek of it!" Katelin says as she nears me.

"I don't need to hear this right now."

But Katelin doesn't listen, instead, she keeps ranting. "Do you think Dakota would want this? Do you think she'd want you making a fool out of yourself? She needs you, Ace, and you go out and pull this kind of crap!"

"Don't bring Dakota into this!" I say in annoyance.

"Why not? Are you too ashamed? That's the reason, isn't it. You feel ashamed because of the situation Dakota is in so you get yourself drunk!"

"Katelin-"

"No, I don't want to hear it." She says angrily as she tugs on my hand and leads me to the bathroom. "Now I have to clean your cuts like some child."

"I-I can c-clean them my-myself." I mumble.

"Not in this kind of mental state you can. You'd probably mistake sandpaper with cotton balls at this point." Katelin says quietly as she pulls the bits of glass out from my wound with tweezers.

I wince.

"Damn it! Can't you be more gentle?"

"No, I can't. Now hold still." Katelin complains.

Once she's done cleaning the wound, she gets a band-aid ready.

Neither on of us say anything. Katelin is too disappointed to say anything else. She hates it when I get in fights she hates the thought of my life being at risk. I know what I'm doing when I fight, I know how to handle them. But I do understand her concern.

"Did you at least win this fight?" She questions.

I scoff. "By the time I was done with him, he was lying in his own blood and gasping for air." The memory makes me smile. I would do anything to go back in time and take a picture of that prick's suffering face.

"Ace!" Katelin gasps.

"What? You asked."

* * *

Two weeks.

Two whole weeks go by slowly.

The doctor said that Dakota has healed enough, and today's the day.

Today's the day when they will try to wake her from her coma, and I'm anxious. What if she doesn't wake up? What if she doesn't forgive me? God, I couldn't stand the thought of that.

Though, I won't blame her.

I can't even forgive myself.

And so, Jordan, Drew, and I sit in a chair in the corner of the room as the doctors take her off the anesthetic that keeps her under. Once she's taken off, the doctors turns to me.

"It will take maybe thirty minutes or so for the anesthetic to wear off." One of the doctors says.

"Thank you." Katelin says.

"If she wakes up, contact us. We will be right outside." The older doctor states.

We nod, and the doctors leave the room.

We all watch the clock anxiously. My foot drums against the floor, making a tapping sound. Katelin taps her fingers against the handle of her chair. Jordan bites his bottom lip. He seems to be hiding something, but that could be my own paranoia getting to me.

Drew pulls out several tissues from his pockets, wiping his eyes from the tears that he told me are simply "A figment of my imagination."

And so as the minutes tick by, it happens.

It finally happens.

Dakota wakes up.

I fly out of my seat, and the chair I was sitting on flies backwards into the wall.

I perch myself right over Dakota's confused face. "Dakota..." I mumble. "I'm so sorry."

"B-Bu-Bucket." Dakota rasps, choking.

But before I understand what she means, she leans over and throws up all over the floor. Katelin gasps, and calls for the doctors. The doctors rush in, and pry me away from Dakota. One of the doctors is Kaylee.

"Is it normal that she just barfed everywhere?" I ask, worried.

Kaylee nods. "Yes, some people are more sensitive to medications and anesthesia so it makes them nauseous. But I will run some tests just to be sure any way."

Once the doctors are done running tests and checking her over, they leave us to visit with Dakota.

"Dakota...how are you doing?" I ask awkwardly. Things are a bit awkward as of now. I'm beyond happy that she is awake, but it's also a bit awkward.

I was going to kill her two weeks ago, what am I supposed to say, "Sorry for nearly putting a bullet in your head, hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, oh, and you also confessed your love to me. We should address that now."

"Other than the bullet wound below my ribs, I'm doing fantastic." Dakota replies sarcastically.

Glad to see her sarcasm is still intact. I think to myself.

I clear my throat. "Listen, uh, Dakota....I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't apologize enough to rid this guilt in my chest. You almost died because of me and I...I-"

"Ace, stop."

Dakota cuts me off.

"I don't blame you for not believing me. You've known nothing but distrust for most of your life. Sure, you maybe should have done more investigating, but all in all, I'm not angry at you. To be honest, I probably would have done the same. You've got a gang to look after, you can't afford to take any risks."

I'm dumbfounded by her words. Her words that I don't deserve to hear. She should be yelling at me, telling me that I'm a blind fool who should have looked into this issue more.

But she doesn't.

"But I....I shouldn't have let you get shot. I should of not had tunnel vision that night. It was all my fault and...."

"Ace, I willingly took that bullet for you. It was my decision alone. Besides, I couldn't have let you get shot and possibly die. I can't have you leaving Katelin all alone, she needs you, and so does this gang. Me? I'm worthless, really. Nobody would really be affected by my death-"

I growl in annoyance. "Don't you say that ever again."

Dakota huffs in annoyance. "Fine, but what I guess I'm trying to say is what I've already told you. I...I realized that through all the damn trials we both have been put through together, I realize that...I love you. You don't have to say it back. Heck, I don't expect you to say it back. I'm just telling you how I feel."

My heart stops.

"You love me, even after all of this?" I question.

Dakota sighs. "Ace, I am convinced that neither life nor death, neither the past, present, or future, neither height or depth, or any powers in this dark world can ever stop me from loving you."

I'm so undeserving of this love.

"But....why? I-I'm so undeserving of your forgiveness."

"When someone does something wrong, don't forget all the things they did right." Dakota says.

I'm speechless.

"Ace, you rescued me. You freed me from the hands of my father. You freed me from the hands of the entire gang that kept me locked in the house and used me for however they pleased. You welcomed a wounded stranger in your home. How could I ever forget that?"

"I....thank you." I say quietly, hanging my head low. I still don't deserve her kindness.

I'm a horrible person.

She's a pure soul.

Why would she love someone like me?

I'm so undeserving, and yet, she's so forgiving, so loving.

And I feel even worse that I don't think I can say it back just yet. I need more time to build my trust with her and mend the wounds that I have sustained.