Beyond Remorse

Remorse.
Everyone felt bad about some shit thing they did or didn’t do. Guilt that niggled their nerves during the day and plagued their sleep at night. Cobra knew all about the nagging, gnawing weight that never relented, and only grew heavier day after fucking day.

Cobra experienced a love/hate relationship when visiting Danny. He loved seeing his brother’s smile knowing how much these visits meant, but he hated the anguish that tore at his gut. The deep-down torment that Danny was held prisoner in his own body ripped Cobra apart daily.

Every time he looked into Danny’s bright, blue eyes a turmoil of emotions twisted him up. If only he’d gotten to the trailer sooner. If only he’d taken Danny with him that night. If only his father wasn’t an abusive shit. The ‘if only’s’ tried to destroy him, but he fought against their damning recriminations.

Redemption.

Cobra sucked in the dry desert air. A strange mix of dust and whatever tropical flowers were planted along the pathway that led from Brookdale Rehabilitation Center. His booted feet couldn’t move fast enough. You’d think after all these years the pain and regret would’ve faded, but no, it only increased. A burden that pummeled him daily and easily crushed his six foot three, two hundred and twenty pounds of fuck you attitude.

Finally, reaching the parking lot, he threw his leg over the Harley and looked away from the two-story, white building on the outskirts of Las Vegas. His phone vibrated in his jeans pocket and he scanned the ID, then swiped at the screen. “Yeah.”

“Hey, fucker,” Python yelled over the background noise.

“Get your ass to the Gold Mine. You’re missing all the fun.”

“On my way.” Cobra disconnected the call, shoved the phone into his pocket, and kicked the bike to life. He revved the engine loud and long, knowing his brother could hear it and picturing the smile on his face.

He backed his bike out of the space, hit the throttle, and sped out of the parking lot aware that he would be right back here tomorrow and all the days that followed.
Sacrifice.

The usual ache in his chest reminded him that he would never be a good man. Sure, his biker brothers respected him, and swore their allegiance to the club, but that didn’t change the way Cobra felt about himself. He could play all the mind games he wanted, but the fact remained, Danny was strapped into a wheelchair because of him.

Twenty minutes later, Cobra pulled up outside the Gold Mine determined to put his depression on hold and celebrate Joker and Daisy’s wedding.

He entered the bar with the usual fist bumps from the regulars and the rest of his biker buddies. A welcome fit for the president of the Serpents MC Las Vegas chapter, although most times he felt like a fraud, not the outlaw biker with the fuck you attitude they all expected.