A San Francisco boy.
Double world champion.
Famous bad boy.
Adrenaline junky.
And my brother's best friend.

He seeks to control his guilt.  I like the feeling of chaos inside.

He hurt me.  I hate him ... but love and hate sometimes are indistinguishable.

Damion Grimm lives by the rules.  HIS rules.  Rules he never ever breaks.  Fast bikes, fast brunets, fast life.  That's how he copes.

He doesn't do relationships.  Especially not with his best friend's little BLONDE virgin sister.  I'm not his type.

But when my family's past comes back to haunt me, I learn that things are not always as they appear. 

Sometimes monsters like to hide.  Sometimes bad boys can have wings.  Sometimes hate can be love.  Sometimes control can be lost.  Sometimes sex can create miracle beans.

But most importantly - I've learned that you can always make new rules.

The Biker's Rules

The little boy holds onto the number 13 jacket, raven black hair in serious need of a comb, the face of a little angel, sinlessness exemplified by big green eyes highlighted against thick dark lashes – an image of perfection. He smiles at me and the dimples in his cheeks deepen, a small hand reaches out to me. I take his hand, but then his eyes turn hazy, fearful, and all of a sudden claws reach from the shadows and pull him towards the darkness. I try to hold onto him, frantically, as if knowing I’m his only hope, but slowly his hand slips from mine and he gets pulled further and further away until he’s entirely engulfed in the blackness. 


I shout out, but silence is my only answer, my shadow my only company while I’m standing in a weathered house on a starless night. 


“I won’t give up!” I shout hoping the boy can hear me, “I won’t give up!” 


Taken