The stories of Travis Davies and friends.

Lincoln was going about his life, getting Brooklyn up and ready for the day. As things had gotten more serious between December and him, the two of them spent just about every night together. It was odd to call her his girlfriend, because she felt like so much more than that, but in all honesty, it was what December was to him. From time to time she even watched over Brooke when he had to go to work. It gave his mom a break every once in a while. Link knew that Brooklyn loved it too, because Dee not only gave her presents, but they played dress up and the clothes that were in his girlfriend’s closet weren’t anything like you would see on a daily basis in Amesbury. Suddenly, Lincoln heard the soft ringtone going off on his phone. The blond man padded around the house, trying to find just where he’d left that stupid cell phone. 

By the time he’d found it there was a missed phone call from Hank Maddox. The two men worked together at the shop. To say that Hank was like a second father to the young man would have been an understatement. It wasn’t like there was anything wrong with the relationship that Link had with his own father, but Hank was the voice of reason that he needed sometimes. He called the number back and waited for an answer. When the line was picked up and he heard the older man’s voice on the other end Link smiled, some of the nerves in his stomach going away. Hank wasn’t getting any younger and sometimes he worried that something would happen to the man, despite him being in great shape. “Hey, I couldn’t find my cell.” Link admitted with a chuckle, because he was notorious for misplacing the thing. 

“Son, you should come down to the hospital.” Hank’s deep voice sent chills down Lincoln’s spine and his brows furrowed. “What happened? Are you okay? Is Lula okay?” His mind went straight to the fateful night some years ago that he’d been in the hospital for his wife. The prayers didn’t work, because she didn’t survive. He tried pushing those nagging thoughts from his mind though as he focused on what Hank was saying. “Travis was in a bad accident.” Despite what had happened between the two men, Lincoln still didn’t want to see Travis hurt, or to be dead, but when he heard of the accident he half wondered if it was actually an accident after all. Travis had quite a long list of enemies that didn’t always pertain to the club. It always seemed like Travis had his hands in some kind of mischief. “I’m on my way.” Link muttered and hung up the phone without so much as another word. 

Lincoln felt numb as he turned to walk down the hallway to the bedroom to find December. “Babe…” His voice sounded somewhat hollow, and different even in his own head. “I have to go, Travis is in the hospital.” He said simply, his greenish blue orbs slightly wide as he was still trying to process just what was going on. He took a deep breath and tried his best to fake a smile for her. “I’ll see you later, you have Brooklyn, right?” He checked before turning to go. It wasn’t often that Lincoln rode his motorcycle anymore, unless it was for club business, so without a thought he jumped into his little red pick up truck. The vehicle was perfect for lugging around tools and parts for the cars that he worked on both at the shop and at home. It wasn’t anything fancy as it chugged along, making a lot of noise, but not going so fast, but it worked for Lincoln. 

His stomach began to tie in knots as he approached the hospital, because he hadn’t been there in a couple years. He could remember the feeling of hopelessness he’d felt as he walked up the sidewalk to the emergency room entrance, wondering if he would have to say goodbye to his wife in the next couple minutes. That was exactly what he had done, although she was just about gone by the time they’d let him in the room. “Can you tell me where Travis  Davies’ room is?” Link asked at the front desk, surprised he didn’t vomit straight onto the woman glancing up at him as he spoke. “Room 54.” The nurse replied after a couple taps on the keyboard in front of her. “Thanks.” Link replied before he was off, wandering the halls and trying his best not to lose what little was in his stomach this early in the morning. As he found the rhythm of the rooms, with each step that drew him closer to Travis’ room, he felt more and more sick to his stomach. 

A large 54 was written on the room just to his right and the blond man paused outside the door as he took a couple breaths and then pushed the door open. He’d half expected to see Travis and Lula in some inappropriate position on the bed, but before he could even see the bed he heard the beep beep beep of the machines. He caught sight of Lula hunched over in a chair beside the bed, sleeping probably and as Hank got up from his chair in the corner that also caught the attention of the blue eyed man. Only when his gaze fell on Travis in the bed did his brows furrow and the numbness went away, replaced by a bubbling feeling of anger. 

Slowly the tall, lean man made his way over to the side of the bed opposite Lula to gaze down at the man he’d spent countless hours with for as long as he could remember. This had been his best friend growing up. They had gone hunting together, and Thomas Davies had taught Link how to skin and gut a deer when he was about 10 years old. That seemed a lifetime ago with the way things had gone as they’d grown into men. It was around that time in fact that Travis began to drift away from the kid he’d always called his closest friend. The fairer sex became just that much more important to the man that now was laid up in the hospital bed with tubes and wires all over the place. Even then, they’d go fishing and ride their bikes and go four wheeling for hours on end. Some nearly twenty years later, Lincoln couldn’t tell you who Travis spent most of his time with besides the ever present Lula Maddox. 

Here he was though, standing over the man that had had an affair with his wife, then killed her when she found out she was knocked up with his kid. This kind of man didn’t deserve to live in Lincoln’s book, but all in the same one, it was his friend. There was some obvious torment going on with Lincoln as he stared down at the dark haired man and Hank woke Lula to see if she wanted anything from the cafeteria. Lincoln silently watched the interaction and then his gaze fell upon Lula as she realized that he was standing there silently. The three of them went back to when they were in diapers, so it hurt to see Lula crying, even if it was over a man that treated her like shit. He wasn’t expecting the words that came out of her mouth, but they stunned him to the point that his heart skipped a beat. “Bo….Walker?” Lincoln confirmed, his eyebrows knitting together even more, causing his head to ache. “How do you know?” Link’s mind was racing, one of his hands coming up to run through his hair to push it back from his face. 

Bo was their enforcer. The man was obsessed with rules, and rightfully so. He was the one to make sure everyone was following those rules. For him to go as far as to try and kill their president was almost too far fetched to believe. There wasn’t time enough for Lincoln to stick around for the reasoning though, because he knew Bo would be on the run, at least for a while. Until he could explain himself to the club. With enough reason they would be forgiving after all. Lincoln began to step back slowly and then he turned to head for the door. “I love you, Lula.” He said softly to her, his eyes as clear and focused as they had ever been before he turned to go down the hall to retrace his steps. The blond man ended up back in his pick up, wishing he’d brought his bike this time around. Speed was not on his side, but he took the roads as quickly as he could until the paved roads ended about fifteen miles outside of town, and his truck crunched over the gravel path that took him up a rather steep incline that eventually flattened out into a large grassy field. His truck bounced across the greenery until he parked in front of a small cabin that was tucked between a grouping of pine trees. 

The house was little more than a one bedroom cabin, perfect for camping, or hunting. That was exactly what the group of men linked to the Reapers used it for. Right in front of the steps that led to the front door was Ian “Bo” Walker’s bike. No one in town had a bike quite like Bo, and in fact many people could pair the two together in a lineup because it’s outrageous decor just suited the also outrageously tattooed man. Link gave the back tire of the bike a small kick as he passed it and went boldly into the cabin without so much as a knock on the door. Bo was sitting there, waiting for him, though his well groomed brows rose when he saw just who it was. Lincoln was the last person in the club he would have expected to come after him. The two men were not equally built either, so Bo settled into his seat with a bit of a smirk while he holstered the gun he’d had trailed on the door. 

“Lincoln.” The man spoke through his large beard with his chocolate hues trailing the blonde man that paced in front of him. “You know it was a long time coming.” Boy, did Lincoln know those words to be true, but this wasn’t the way it was supposed to go down, and he showed his distaste for those words with a slow shake of his blond head while his boots thudded against the wooden floor of the cabin. “It’s not your place.” Link muttered, blue eyes trailing along the floor in front of him before he came to stop straight in front of the older man. “He is supposed to be mine.” Link growled, eyes narrowing before he began to pace again as that burning anger began to bubble up in the pit of his stomach. “He killed my fucking wife!!!” Lincoln then screamed, although he knew killing Travis wouldn’t make him feel even the slightest better, and it sure as hell wouldn’t bring back Bethany. 

Bo stood up, trying to make himself look as big as possible because he didn’t appreciate getting yelled at, even if it was by his vice president. Lincoln glared at him. “You gonna try to kill me too?” He snapped to which Bo’s eyes grew wide. “Try? The fuck you talking about, man. There is no way he survived that.” Lincoln laughed, stepping further into the cabin, near the simple kitchen with little more than a spot for a propane fueled stove top. His oil stained hand reached out and he flicked on the switch to one of the burners and a small whoosh could be heard as the propane tank opened, though no flame showed up because Link didn’t hold his lighter up to ignite it. “You stupid idiot, he is still alive, barely, but he is alive and this lands on me now.” He explained to the other man standing behind him. “Our enforcer can’t be trusted, and who does it always fall to? I have to pick up the pieces.” Lincoln sounded like he might have been on the verge of tears now as he spoke, but in a movement Bo hadn’t been expecting, Lincoln turned and pulled out the handgun that was tucked in the back of his pants. 

It wasn’t a fatal wound, but just one to disarm the other man almost completely, because he had little, if any use of his right arm. His left arm reaching across for his gun was a much slower movement, and Lincoln was an excellent shot. The younger man took a few steps towards the older man as he stumbled and sat back down in his chair. Blood was pouring from his arm and it wasn’t looking good if Lincoln just drew this out long enough. “You should have said something, Bo.” Link muttered softly, his brows furrowed again. This was the last thing he had wanted to do, but he couldn’t let the club see him as the weak one anymore. He’d been in this club damn near as long as Travis, and he had done nearly as much. This had to put him at least in the top rankings for the club. He held up the gun again, aimed straight between Bo’s eyes and the older man knew he wouldn’t miss. “Please….” Bo shifted, though he wasn’t reaching for a gun, or begging for his life, he was asking for a different method. The older man held out a small blade that he’d carved and sharpened himself as a young boy. “Use this.” 

Link stepped forward and took the wooden handle of the blade that was offered and then he flipped the knife in his hand for a moment. “You’re a good guy, you know that Bo?” The older man gave a nod of his head and offered a sad smile. “I’m ready to see my sweetheart. I’ve missed her a lot.” Lincoln pursed his lips and gave a solemn nod of his head as he raised the blade above his head and slammed it down as hard as he could into Bo’s neck. The blade made a loud thud when the hilt connected with his skin and the blade wedged against his collar bone. Lincoln gazed down at the large man as the light slowly began to leave his eyes. It was a sight that wasn’t completely unfamiliar to Lincoln, because he’d been hunting his whole life, but this was the first time he’d watched the death of a person. He stepped back slowly, eyes filling with tears as he then turned back to that damn propane stove. It had been the bane of his existence when he’d been hunting as a kid, so he was going to be glad to see it go. 

Link turned on the other three burners so the propane was being pumped right into the room as quickly as it could be. It was a decent sized tank that they had sitting under the counter too, so Link knew this would do some damage. The blond man took one last look at Bo sitting there in his chair with blood seeping from his neck and his shoulder. “I’m sorry, ol’ man.” Lincoln said softly as he stepped out into the early morning sunshine. He hadn’t realized just how much the cabin smelled like blood until he’d gone out into the fresh air. He took a deep breath and steadied himself against the railing on the porch as he finally hurled right into the well maintained bushes. After wiping his mouth on his shirt Link walked out to his truck and got in and looked around for some rope. There was a hank of rope just waiting for him underneath the passenger seat. The blond man snatched it up and began to untwine it until he had about enough to cover the field and lead right up to the door. That was exactly how Lincoln laid the rope out, tipping a bit of gasoline from the near empty gas can in the back of his truck onto the rope every couple feet. 

Travis had been unconscious from the time that he’d blacked out. The paramedics would have said that he opened his eyes and looked straight at them during the helicopter ride, but it had been little more than a reflex of the body. Those are moments he would never remember, no matter how hard he tried. Where he was, he wasn’t quite sure, and he honestly couldn’t remember too much about what had happened in the few moments before he’d blacked out. His leg throbbed just lightly in this sort of dream state, but there was no pain in his stomach and a glance down would show that he was completely normal and whole, tattoos and all. The longer he walked the less he felt in his leg, so he decided to keep ‘walking it off’. 

There was a lightness that he felt as he walked along in some of his favorite clothing. These were the dark shade of jeans that he felt most comfortable in and that alone seemed to put a little pep in his step. Everything surrounding him grew gradually lighter as he walked. It was quite dark when he’d gotten up and began to walk. The light reflected in his blue orbs, making them seem much brighter as he curiously gazed around. This wasn’t Amesbury, that much was sure. Travis knew that town like the back of his hand, and this wasn’t it. Still, it seemed like a decent enough place to walk around and explore. Things that had happened in his past seemed to be far off in his mind, and it put him in a better mood. There weren’t burdens and terrible images racing through his mind like they had back home. 

“Where is everyone?” He wondered out loud, running a hand through his dark locks before turning in a full circle to look around. When he’d faced the way he’d been walking there was a black dot far off in the distance. Travis’ brows furrowed as he kept on walking down the now pale grey street. As he drew closer to the figure, he could hear faint barking and his eyes grew slightly wide. Through his thirty-three-years of life, Travis had grown up with damn near countless dogs, but that bark he would recognize for the rest of his life. “Phantom?” The moment the name left his lips the large black, white and brown dog came bounding towards Travis. His heart was racing, not out of fear, but excitement. His pace quickened until the distance between the two old friends disappeared. The large dog nearly knocked Travis over when he leapt into his arms. He’d forgotten just how big Phantom had been. The dog stood nearly as tall as Travis did on his hind legs and the dog had to weigh somewhere close to 200lbs. He’d never found out what breed that the wolf sized dog was mixed with, but it didn’t matter to the younger Travis in the least. 

The six-foot-two man ended up on his knees to be closer to the dog’s height and Phantom’s tongue did a number on Travis’ face, but he didn’t mind in the least. “Where did you come from boy?” Travis said, laughing lightly through the dog’s excited licking of his face. Once the dog calmed enough for the man to get a look at him, Travis could see the differences in his dog that had died some fifteen years before. Some of the animals that had lived in the Davies home hadn’t taken much of a liking to the young man, but Phantom had been the first to latch onto the boy like a baby possum on his mama’s back. Travis and this dog were inseparable from the time he was a small pup that his dad had brought home one day with talk about him being the runt of his litter. The thought alone made Travis laugh, because this dog was anything but a runt. Rubbing a hand over his thick, fluffy coat, his muscular build could be felt underneath. The day that Phantom died was one of the most difficult days in all of Travis’ life, though the worst were yet to come, as he would soon find out. Travis straightened up and let out a lighthearted laugh as the dog took off sprinting back the way he’d come. The warry, but still curious man took off after the large hound. 

The further he ran the more the color seemed to drain from the street he trotted down. “Phantom, slow down there buddy.” He called out before he heard a voice overhead. It was a voice that he would also always know, no matter how many years had passed, or how many other voices he heard. It made Travis stop dead in his tracks and he spun around, looking for the source of the voice, but there it was again with not a body to behold. “Please, baby... wake up….” His brows furrowed and he looked upward towards where it seemed like the voice was coming from. “Come back to me….please...please.” His heart was racing again just at the thought of the woman he loved. Where was he going that he needed to come back? For a moment he glanced back in the direction he’d come and it seemed so dark and there was nothing that made him want to go back that way. His blue gaze turned back towards the way he’d been walking for the longest time. Phantom had gone that way and he could hear the dog barking up ahead, but the light ahead made it nearly impossible to see his friend. He decided he would follow still. Couldn’t be worse than what was back there anyway. Travis sprinted forward, his leg feeling completely normal by now and he ran as hard as he could to catch up with that stupid dog until he was engulfed in light so bright that he couldn’t seem to move and then he opened his eyes. 

Everything in the club seemed to be falling into place, and that was when Travis should have known something was bound to go wrong. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket a couple times before he reached into his front right pocket and pulled it out. “Bo” flashed across the screen and Travis tapped the green answer button and his ears were assaulted with noise from the other end of the line. The screeching sound of metal against metal was obvious to his ears and he held the phone up to his ear. “Bo….” His voice could barely be heard above the ruckus. “Travis, you had better get out here. It doesn’t look good for our truck….or the bikes.” The older man had volunteered himself to accompany the truck that had a few of their motorcycles in it. A group of guys had planned on visiting a bike show that was a few days ride away. Why they didn’t just ride their bikes, Travis didn’t understand, but he wasn’t heading it up so he stayed out of it. 

“Fuck.” Travis muttered, rolling his eyes and shifting to get up from the chair that he’d been lounging in behind the desk in his office. It still seemed odd for Travis to have an office, but that didn’t change the truth of the matter. Paperwork was the bane of his existence, so anything he could do to get out of it sounded fine to him, even if it was dealing with the loss of one of his trucks. “Where you at? Didn’t get far, ya idiots.” Travis added that insult on, because that was just what he did. The older man only laughed a bit, because he knew full well they were being idiots. “Maybe five miles out of town.” Bo admitted sheepishly before the older man hung up. “Can’t trust these dipshits to do anything themselves.” Travis grumbled under his breath as he left his office and the sound of tattoo guns buzzing away met his ears. His blue eyes landed on Lula near the front of the shop, cleaning up after her last client. “Gotta head out to clean up a mess. These idiots crashed the truck.” He explained with a roll of his eyes. “Didn’t even get five miles out of town.” He shook his head at his own words before he winked at Lula and was on his way to deal with the mess. 

Travis rode a fairly basic Harley Davidson, and although it wasn’t tricked out like some of the other guy’s bikes there was no doubt that Travis would win any race on damn near any type of road. The leader of The Reapers MC was rather fearless and in ways reckless to a fault. It had worked out for him the last thirty-three-years at least, and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Even though he’d been riding above the speed limit Travis had at least expected the police to be there to stick their noses in everyone else’s business, but as he pulled up to the scene of the accident there wasn’t a cop in sight. What he did hear was a loud pop and he lost control of his bike. The Harley went down onto its side and Travis did his best to dismount before the bike could crush his leg. He hadn’t been quite quick enough because the nearly thousand pound bike slammed down on his left leg. 

The president of The Reapers was left laying in the middle of the road as his bike kept going with all its momentum. “Damn it.” He growled through clenched teeth as he sat up to survey the extent of the damage to his leg. The brunette man had just been about to pull his phone from his pocket for the second time in the last ten minutes when he heard some crunching on the gravel behind him. “Bo? I fucked up my leg pretty good.” Travis groaned, pivoting just enough to see the club enforcer walking towards him with a large knife in his right hand. Now, Bo was no small, nor agile man, but he had power on his side, so it was going to be a rough fight when it came down to it between the two men. Travis shifted, pushing to turn around with his good leg until he was sitting there facing the oncoming man. His left hand was in his long beard and Travis had only an inkling of just how men in the past had felt when judgement had come down upon their heads. Bo was a terrifying man to have to face in a one on one fight, not to mention when you were at a disadvantage. 

“Worked out even better than I could have thought.” Bo admitted to the younger man with a smirk peaking through his thick beard. He comfortably spun the knife around in his hand without so much as a glance in the direction of the sharp blade and Travis shifted back some. The blade stopped and Bo pointed it straight at Travis as he spoke. “This day has been a long time coming. Your pa didn’t deserve anything you did to him, you little shit.” The younger man’s eyes narrowed at mention of the crime he’d committed some three years before. It was the only way for the club to survive in Travis’ eyes. The Reapers had been such a big part of his life for as long as his father was letting him ride motorcycles, license or not. He couldn’t see it go down in pitiful smoke. If the club were to ever die, it would be in a flaming fight and the world would hear about it. 

Travis spit on the ground between the two men and he glared up at Bo in a defying manor. “You’re not even going to deny it now, are ya?” The enforcer shook his head, spinning the blade in his hand again as Travis shuffled back until he was at least to the side of the road and there was a large rock he could use to help himself get to his feet. It was a painful process and that was probably the only reason Bo allowed it. He wanted to see Travis endure as much pain as possible. There was a trail of blood that had followed Travis from his original landing spot and it didn’t look good for the younger man. His uninjured leg held the brunt of his weight while his banged up leg just seemed to pour blood from just below the knee. His jeans were already soaked while more red fluid flowed freely down his leg and into his boot. 

While Travis was just trying to stay on his feet, Bo approached with that blade gleaming in the sunlight. Blue orbs locked on him, and didn’t have even an ounce of fear in them despite the fact that death was drawing nearer with each and every step. “Fuck you.” Travis spit at the man as he approached. “He was running the club into the ground and you knew it….” Travis winced in pain for a moment and then shook his head as Bo stood there right in front of him and even though Travis was hunched a little their eyes were nearly level. Their long time enforcer was a couple inches shorter than his young president, but height didn’t matter so much when you were starting a fight out with a pretty bad injury. Still, Travis was bold enough to think he could come out of this alive. 

The first blow came from up above, an upraised arm bringing that knife straight down for Travis’ chest. It didn’t meet its mark because the young man brought his arm up and hit the other man’s arm so the blade just glanced against his left side. It wasn’t pretty as the blood began to dribble from the small wound, but it was better than having a knife sticking out of your chest. By now the adrenaline was flowing through Travis’ body and he didn’t feel his leg quite as badly as he had before. He could even hobble around on the leg, which he did to put some more space between him and his attacker. What Travis didn’t know was that he’d dropped his phone and it had dialed Lula’s number when it had fallen. That was his saving grace at the end of it all. That woman was the reason he would live to see his 34th birthday and beyond. 

“Thomas didn’t deserve to die like that, you asshole!” Bo bellowed as he charged at the young leader. Travis was able to dodge the knife blow, but the shoulder check took him off his feet because his leg wasn’t quite as steady as he’d thought it had been. Before Travis could get back to his feet Bo was there, hovering over him, placing a foot on his bad leg and pressing. Travis grunted, but glared up at the man. He wouldn’t get a scream out of him if that was what he wanted. Travis would suffer complete agony in silence just to spite the older man. “I never liked you from the start.” Bo admitted as he eased up on Travis' leg, but that knife never moved from being pointed in his direction. 

With some effort Bo got down on his knees beside Travis and grabbed the long dark hair of the younger man to make sure he was watching and couldn’t turn his head away. “You’re just a piece of shit kid that should have been whooped from time to time.” The blade was pressed against Travis stomach lightly, but that tip was so sharp it was drawing blood in small little patterns as the knife moved around while Bo spoke. Travis stared into Bo’s eyes intently just like the man wanted, but what he wouldn’t find there was any bit of horror for what was about to happen to him. In all honesty, the way Travis had lived gave him the sense that he would die some kind of horrible death. If you live by the sword, you die by the sword. It was something Travis had always thought to be very true, so here he was, dying by the knife just like he’d killed by the knife. 

As the blade pressed into his stomach, Travis could feel the cool steel parting his skin and diving right into multiple organs. The pain was enough to make anyone black out, but Travis was too stubborn for that kind of shit. He could see some darkness around the edges of his eyes as he stared at Bo, and once again the young man spit, though, this time it was right into Bo’s face and there was a little bit of blood in it. Travis smirked a bit, the blood in his mouth highlighting his teeth as Bo twisted the blade slowly. Travis groaned and arched his back somewhat, trying to move his head, but Bo held it there. “I’m gonna let the buzzards finish you off….But I want everyone to know just who saved the world from more of your bullshit.” The older man said, standing up and leaving that knife protruding from just above his belly button. It was not a pretty sight with his leg already covered in blood and now more dark red fluid flowing from his torso. 

(A few years before....)

It almost didn't matter what year you were looking at, Lula and Travis could be found in the same predicaments year after year almost as long as they'd known each other. This particular occasion had the two lovers entwined for hours, just repeating those mind blowing waves of pleasure that they could only achieve with each other. A lull had them panting and laying in his bed with sheets and blankets strewn about the room, right along with the clothing they'd gone into this session with. Travis' body ached in all the best ways as he looked up at the ceiling trying to catch his breath. He seemed to stay like that for a while until there was a small buzz of his cell phone coming from wherever it had landed in the throws of passion. With a grunt, he shifted to an upright position and reached down to where he heard the phone initially rumbling against the floorboards. One of his grasps connected and he lifted the cell phone to see just who was messaging him on a weeknight just after 8pm. The message was from Bethany Albrecht. That kind of message might have been strange in the past, but over the last few weeks he’d found himself in a position he’d never been in before, at least not with the wife of a best friend. He was running around with Bethany behind Lincoln’s back and no one had found out yet. 

Beth: Travis, I need to talk to you NOW......get over here.

The message wasn't the type that he usually took kindly to, or even bothered responding to, but having been in her bed over the last few weeks made him take to her a bit more than he'd used to. Without responding, the dark haired man stood up from the bed and began to silently shuffle around the room to find some clothes to put on. Didn't really matter that he smelled like sex, or that he needed something to eat at that point. Nothing too much mattered but taking care of business. By the time he'd gotten fully dressed he could feel Lula's wandering eyes on him now that she'd also recovered from their romp. "I'll be back." That was all he said to her with a passing glance, before he took the steps two at a time down the rickety stairs to the first floor of his much too large house. Travis paused for a moment to give his dog Poe a pat or two on the head, and then he  went right out the front door. Moments after the front door slammed shut the rumble of his Harley could be heard and then it faded away into the distance until he'd arrived at the Albrecht home across town. 

Travis sauntered up to the front door and knocked twice with his knuckles against the well built door before it was yanked open by Bethany. The woman looked panicked to say the least as she ushered the towering man into her home. The height difference between the two was rather comical. Sure, Travis was tall, but on the other end of the spectrum Bethany was quite petite at 5 foot 1. The small woman had grown more shapely over the years that Travis had known her, especially after becoming a mother some months before. Even during the awkward phases they’d had growing up, she was one of those that just always was naturally so beautiful and there was a peace about her that only came with wisdom. Getting caught up with Travis was one of her worst mistakes though. She looked up at him for a few moments with wide blue eyes before she tucked her brown tresses behind her ears and took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant." She whispered to which one of Travis' eyebrows rose slightly. There was always a chance it could be Lincoln's kid after all, I mean after all these years Travis didn't have any kids of his own running around town and he wouldn't have been able to tell you how many loads he'd blown straight into countless women over the years. Being sterile would have been a gift to the world if it had been true. What he didn't know was all the abortions that happened on his account. 

"The fuck does that have to do with me?" Travis asked, stepping further into the house and taking a seat in the nearest recliner as he watched Bethany pace about the floor in front of him. Bethany boldly scoffed at him and rolled her eyes as she glared at him with eyes brimming with tears. "It could be yours you idiot!" She snapped, crossing her arms over her chest for a few beats and then taking a deep breath. "Well, go get it taken care of then." He muttered simply as if that were the obvious option. She seemed to feel physical pain from his words as her hands went to her still flat belly. “I can’t do that…” Her voice grew very soft as both her hands were touching at her stomach that harbored the child that would have been his if she’d gotten to carry it to term. “I have standards, Travis.” She added, those all too caring blue eyes raising from looking down at her stomach. It was now his turn to scoff and roll his eyes. “I don’t want kids.” He said simply, not an ounce of regret or uncertainty in his deep voice. “Well, it’s not just your choice.” She said, going to move past him in the recliner while muttering to herself. “I should have waited on the DNA test before I brought you into this.” He grabbed her arm roughly as she passed him, yanking her back. A cry came from her mouth as she reached for his hand with her other hand to try and loosen his grasp on her thin arm. “Ouch, you’re hurting me, Travis!” She growled at him as she scrambled to try to get out of his grip. 

“I’m gonna call Link.” She said softly, still pulling desperately to get away. “I can’t keep this from him anymore.” That was the second mistake she’d made that night, and it would likely be her last by the look in Travis’ icy blue  hues. None of her clawing even phased him, so his grip didn’t loosen as he stood up and pulled her with him into the kitchen area. By now she was sobbing and trying to make herself as much dead weight as possible on the floor to slow his path to the kitchen, but she was only drawing out the process. Pulling her along flailing behind him was like working with a child throwing a tantrum. It was difficult, but not nearly close to impossible. Finally Travis threw her against the lower cabinets in the kitchen and she whimpered, looking up at him with teary eyes, arms wrapped protectively around her stomach. “Please, don’t do this.” She begged, trying her best to crawl away to where she’d left her cell phone in the other room. Maybe she could call for help before he did his worst. He was much too quick for that though.

One of his large leather boots came to rest on her thigh as she struggled to get away, all the while Travis was glancing around to find the knife block. When he didn’t find one right away he began to pull open the drawers roughly. One of the drawers came off its track and ended up tumbling to the floor, spraying silverware all over the tile. Bethany screamed at the commotion and in another part of the house the cry of a baby could be heard after Beth’s outburst. “Oh my God, please, Travis. I’ll do whatever you want.” She pleaded, tears streaming down her face by now while she still struggled against him. Finally through his searching, the heavily tattooed man found a large butcher's knife that he held up, to Bethany’s horror. His eyes never showed any sort of regret or pity for the woman he was about to torture. Carefully Travis ended up on top of her after a decent amount of struggle as he held the knife backwards in his grip so the blade faced away from his victim and he only had one hand to subdue her with. She’d gotten a few good swipes in and he had a few little trails of blood from his arms and along his chest from her fingernails, but it didn’t stop him. 

Once he’d pinned her legs down and he was sitting on her hips with one of her hands pinned down at her side with his thigh and her other hand back in his grasp again, the burly man flipped the blade in his grasp so it was facing her now. In a second struggle he ended up with his knee on her front, just above her crotch and the foot of his other leg holding her hand pinned to the floor so he was in a kneeling position looming over her. “Calm the fuck down.” He grumbled to which she struggled against him some more to no avail. She tried kicking him with her free legs but it did little to the sturdy man, and it brought her pain from the pressure he was putting on her pelvis to begin with. It  seemed like the struggle was a build up to all of this, but Travis skipped the most intense part of it all. He plunged the blade into her stomach, just above where his knee was holding her, where her child was growing. She screamed out in pain, struggling some more as he pulled away the blood stained blade. “Too bad I didn’t go to medical school.” He muttered with a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he looked down at the blood pooling from the gaping wound in her low stomach. “I could do this whole procedure for you, and you might just survive it.” He continued talking, although she’d passed out from the shock of things and he went to town a little bit more since she wasn’t fighting or screaming anymore. Travis ended up opening up that wound some more and beginning the process of pulling out anything he could reach and easily remove. 

The majority of what he’d emptied from the lower cavity of her body were her intestines, but in the bloody mess of things he found a pear shaped mass that wasn’t at all like the intestines he’d been pulling out. Without a second thought, he cut all the ties to anything holding her uterus in her body and he dropped it on the kitchen floor to add to the gore. What a fitting way for his own child to die; by the hands of his father. Once that was done he slowly got up, set the knife in the kitchen sink and wiped his bloody hands on his jeans. His eyes trailed around the bloody mess that was the kitchen now and Travis turned to the sink where he took the time to clean the knife he’d just used to start the disembowelment process. There wasn’t a sign of any blood on the knife once he’d finished and he used a nearby kitchen towel to hold the blade while he washed the handle thoroughly before tossing the knife on the floor in a bold display of his thoughts about the police in this town. Bethany was still just barely alive, but if she didn’t get immediate medical attention there was no chance for her. He looked down at her for a few moments, wondering if he should call or not and instead he decided to head back home. The roar of his Harley could be heard leaving the Albrecht home and pulling up in front of his house again. The weeds, overgrown trees and bushes loomed around the house in the darkness, but they were familiar shadows to Travis, so he didn’t blink twice as he walked to the front door.