by Nicole Reed
“I want to get to know you—that’s all I am asking. No more, no less. I have never met a more infuriating human being, much less a woman, who didn’t want to talk about herself. You really must be missing that gene, which I must be crazy for even mentioning.”
“Why?” I whisper, wanting… no, needing to know.
“Why what?” His eyes gaze deeply into mine. “Why do I want to get to know you or why I must be crazy for mentioning your missing gene?”
I roll my eyes at him. “The first.”
“I have no clue, but considering how many times I have thought about you these last couple of weeks…” he lets go of me, placing his hands in his jean pockets, and shrugs his shoulders. “Something about you calls to me, like my houses do.”
I move away from him, his words stinging a bit. “What? Do I say fix me? Is that why I am like your houses?” I narrow my stare. How dare he?
While we stand there, a snowflake floats gracefully down upon my cheekbone. It’s almost as if time slows. His hand lifts toward my face, capturing the crystalized water as he did the tear earlier.
“Even the heavens weep with you,” he says, looking at me. “What made you cry earlier? Do you need to be fixed? Remember, they are your words, not mine.”
“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “Listen, it’s been very nice knowing you, but I’m not interested. Not now. Not ever. Have a nice day.” I spin around and head toward work.
“Keller,” he says, halting my movements.
I stop, but don’t turn around, composing myself the best I can. He hit some sensitive spots. So much inside of me suddenly feels raw and exposed. I slowly rotate my body so that I am now looking at him. His black wool attire is a stark contrast to the white falling around him. I take a mental picture. This is how I will sketch him. This is how I will remember him. I have a book of all the people who have passed in and out of my life these last several years. The title across his page will read, “Asshole.”
“Vin,” I say back to him.
“We will see each other again,” he says, before turning to stroll away.
“Don’t bet on it,” I call to his backside. He only waves his hand in the air.
I storm down the sidewalk like a woman on a mission. Anger bubbles up inside of me. How dare he? Who says that? A creeper, that’s who. Normal men don’t threaten single women. That is just insane.
I swing open the door to the tattoo shop and stomp in. Malik’s head pops up as I come rushing through. I mutter obscenities underneath my breath. I squint my eyes at him as I pass, blaming him for just being male.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Nope,” I answer back.
His quick laugh is the only answer I get. I start setting my space up, ignoring everyone else around me. My first appointment is at ten-thirty this morning so I actually don’t have time for these feelings that course through me. I am going to put Vin out of my mind for good.
My eyes flutter open when I hear low voices speaking around me. I first see an old wooden dresser next to where I am lying. The bed, where someone must have put me, has a matching head- and footboard. There is one thing I know for certain: it is not mine.
“Look, man, she’s awake. Somebody get Hold,” a strange male voice says.
The sound of feet running on the hard floor, coming closer to me, reminds me of another time—a horrible time. My heart starts racing and I sit up. This time Hold bursts through the door, throwing himself on the bed. He wraps his arms around me, and the entire evening floods back into my memory. I start to shake when I remember what happened. Hold saved me from being raped. Oh, God.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispers, cuddling me closer to him.
I don’t even realize I’m crying until he says that, but then the tears flow faster. I let the sobs escape from deep inside of me. I start explaining what happened, about the truck becoming hot, and then opening the door to cool down.
“I know. I took the goddamn keys like an idiot. I didn’t know it was goin’ to take me that long. Everyone was congratulating me for comin’ to work full time at the garage. It’s all my fault,” his voice breaks with emotion.
“I shouldn’t have opened the door. You told me to stay in the t-t-truck,” I cry, burying my face in the crook of his neck.
“Listen, I don’t wanna rush you, but there are things that have to happen tonight. Look at me,” he says, cradling my face between his two hands. “We have to take care of club business, you and me. I know you don’t understand what that means, but I need you to trust me. What happens here tonight, stays here tonight. Ward is trusting you… I am trusting you.”
His eyes frantically dart back and forth between mine. I don’t have a clue what he is talking about, but I trust him, so I nod.
“Just do what I tell you. Okay?” He pulls his hands away from me so that he can stand up. He reaches them back out and I go to him without question.
I try my best to pull down my skirt, and tug at my sweater to cover myself. I only have one shoe and no panties. He places his arm securely around my waist, guiding me out the door. We happen to pass by a mirror on the way out. I shudder at my reflection. My face is swollen on both sides, the bruises already turning a nasty shade of purple. I look horrible.
As we walk into the hallway, I look around and take a guess that we are on the second floor of the clubhouse where the bedrooms are. Some are for guys who live here, but most are for members to use when they don’t want to go home. My dad used to stay here a lot. We walk down a flight of stairs, side by side. Hold never lets me go. I do trust him and lean my head against his shoulder.
We walk into a larger area. I have never been in here, but I know immediately this is the main gathering room. There is a large bar on one side and pool tables and videogames on the other. On the left is a large pair of doors, with axes hanging across them. My dad once told me that was the club’s inner domain, their meeting room. All decisions are made behind those closed doors.
I glance around to see members of the Hell’s Highwaymen Motorcycle Club stoically lining the walls or sitting at tables and chairs placed around the room. Everyone has a cut—only club members are here. Nobody says a word as they stare directly at us. The silence surrounding these larger-than-life men is a horror in itself. The doors to the meeting room fly open and Ward steps out, followed by his second-in-command, Sandman. His eyes search the room until he finds Hold, standing with me.
“Come to me, Hels,” he says, motioning his hand toward me.
I glance up at Hold and he nods. I carefully take a step, and then another, until I am directly in front of Ward. This whole thing is like an out-of-body experience. I can’t help but notice all eyes are cast on me. Spine-tingling chills rack my body, but I don’t retreat.
“Your dad was our brother and by family you are part of this club. We believe that your future position to the MC, and the situation tonight, warrant us to make an exception and give you something that no one besides the club’s married females have. It will be a mark meant to declare you as one of ours. No one will touch what we Hell’s Highwaymen have claimed,” Ward says loudly for the room to hear.
The sound of cheering voices rings loudly through the room. My head is fuzzy. I cannot hear what else Ward is saying—I only get about every other word. I look over at Hold and he nods. He won’t let anyone hurt me. I close my eyes for only a second, before opening them. My face hurts, the swelling feels like it is getting worse by the minute.
“Do you understand, Helen?” Ward looks down at me, waiting for an answer.
I nod, not sure what I am agreeing to.
“First, retribution is in order. Judgment has been made and Hell’s justice will be served,” he says raising his voice.
I first hear the muffled sound of someone screaming for help before I see him. It is my attacker. One of the prospects brings him to the center of the room before throwing him down on his knees. He is gagged with his hands tied behind his back, his face
bloody and bruised from the beating Hold and whoever else gave him.
He searches the crowd, desperately looking for anyone to help him. I watch him weep, the terror on his face funny to me. Everything within me wants him to pay for what he did. When the police come for him, I will watch, laughing, as they take him away. I hope he rots in jail.
“Do you want to dole out the punishment?” Ward glances down at me again.
I have never hit another person in my life and meant it. Sure, I’ve given Hold plenty of playful arm slaps, but nothing that was done in hate. Before I think about what I am doing, I walk over to look him square in his eyes. I see that he is scared and I am glad. Happy. A fury that I can almost taste rises within me. I rear my foot back, slamming it into his crotch. I actually hear a crunching sound seconds before he falls to the floor, groaning. The sound of men’s laughter reminds me that I am not alone. I do not walk back to Ward, but straight for Hold. He opens his arms and I walk directly into them. I bury my face in his chest, my body trembling uncontrollably. Ward is saying something, but I block his words out.
“While that may be entertaining, that is not the punishment that was agreed on. Holden Dawson, do you protect what is yours with club honor?”
My head pops up at Hold’s name. I glance in the direction of his face. He looks down at mine, his eyes appearing to be laden with sadness.
“Yes,” he answers, his gaze never wavers from mine. He leans down to gently kiss my cheek. “Close your eyes and don’t look. D’ ya hear me, Hels? Do not look,” he whispers into my ear.
His arms let me go, leaving me bereft as he walks away. I do what he tells me to do, not only because it’s Hold, but because my head is killing me. I’m nauseous and the banging in my skull sounds like there is a marching band taking over my brain. I am sure he is going to beat the hell out of him again for touching me. Something inside of me relates to the term bloodthirsty, and I completely understand it now.
I stand still, not hearing anyone speak. Minutes later, my entire body jumps at the sound of two muffled pops. I spin around to see Hold standing there with a gun that has a funny looking barrel on the end. My eyes follow to see where everyone else is staring. My rapist lies in a puddle of blood, red rapidly growing beneath him. His vacant eyes stare out at the room. I hear someone screaming, not realizing that the sound is coming from me. Hold rushes to my side, wrapping me in his arms so he can hold my shaking body against him. I do not want him touching me, not with those hands. I try and push him away, not sure what is happening around me. I cringe, wanting to crawl into myself.
“Get her a drink,” Ward says. “It won’t hurt for her to be drunk. Do you understand, boy?”
My eyes travel frantically toward Ward. I don’t miss the proud smirk he wears, obviously over Hold’s actions. He likes this, being the judge and juror over the MC. I see the darkness he wears like a shroud and the evil he proudly wears upon his head as a crown. This is what this life will gift to Hold.
“Yes, sir,” Hold says, picking me up to take me somewhere. “Get me a bottle of Crown and a couple of sodas,” he orders someone.
He sits down, gently placing me on his lap. I keep my face tightly against his chest as I cry. What just happened? How could he… how could he do this? Did he just kill someone? He strokes my back and my mind wars over whether to let him or try to get away. Everything is happening so fast. Did Hold mean to do that? Did he know? Did Ward want me to kill that guy? Murder?
“It had to be done, Hels. Do you understand?” His voice pleads in my ear.
I shake my head no, never raising my face from his shoulder.
“His daddy is some big-shot judge. That was the only reason he was a friend-of-the-club. He would have gotten him off. I couldn’t stand the thought that you had to be scared because that piece of shit was walking around. We will just forget it ever happened. Okay?” He leans down to cover my head in kisses. I can feel his lips and every single touch of his mouth revolts me.
I don’t say anything. What is there to say? Eventually, my sobs quiet as my body drains of any emotion.
“Here, drink this, Hels,” Hold says, pushing me to sit up.
I try to stand, to get away, but he wraps his arms around my waist. He holds me tightly, sitting in place. Some guy pours the dark liquid into the soda. He swirls the cup around. I watch him place a straw in it before handing it to Hold.
“Hold your nose and drink all of this.”
I do as he asks. The sugary, bitter taste almost makes me gag, but I force myself to drink it all. It seems that as soon as I finish, my body warms me from the inside out. My toes tingle, and the pounding in my head calms. Everyone is talking around me, but I don’t care. Suddenly, everything seems hilariously funny. Surely, it was all a dream. It had to be. I am all hot and fuzzy inside.
“Hels, are you okay?”
I hear Hold’s voice and turn in that direction. There he is, right under me where I left him.
“S’kay.” The words leave my mouth, brushing against my lips as they depart. For some reason, I find this hysterical. “More,” I say.
“No,” Hold says.
My mind is foggy, but I still know when my Hold is sad. I look at the top of his shaved hair. He bows his head in silence. I place my hand underneath his chin, slowly I push up, needing to see his eyes. The watery blue shreds what is left of my heart.
“Why?” I can’t keep the emotion out of my voice as everything comes back into focus. “Why, Hold?”
“We take care of our own. You are mine. You’ve always been mine.”
“Not like this, not ever like this. I belong to no one. I am no one’s.”
“Mine,” he insists, placing his head against my chest.
I feel his body shudder underneath me. I know he regrets what he did. He has to.
“Do you regret it, Hold?” I have to hear him say it. I need him to tell me that it was an accident. That Ward made him do it. Something… anything.
He makes a garbled sound—I am not sure if it’s a laugh or a cry—and raises his fevered eyes to mine.
“Yeah, I regret it. I regret not killing that bastard with my bare hands. That is what I fuckin’ regret, Hels. Anyone, anyone who ever fuckin’ touches you will die,” he says, his voice raising with every word. “Goddamn it, you’re only fourteen. I need so much more from you than what you’re ready to give me.”
I don’t understand what he is saying. I don’t understand anything anymore. My mind is entirely too full with everything that has happened and my thoughts are hazy. I shut my eyes tightly, trying my best to wish it all away. I have tried praying only once in my life… the night my sister died, but, God, if you are real, if you are listening, please make all this be a nightmare. Please don’t let Hold be a killer. Don’t let me be almost raped. Make it all disappear and I will be good. I won’t hate you for takin’ my little sister no more. I won’t hate you for takin’ my momma, either.
“Hold, it’s time,” Mikey says. I look up to see Mikey talking from the doorway.
“Is it time to go home, Hold?” I turn to ask Hold. His eyes lower before he shakes his head no.
“Not yet, Hels.”
He tries to help me stand, but my feet won’t stay on the ground. I find it hilarious, but for some crazy reason, I cry instead of laugh. He hoists me up in his arms and the world spins overhead. I close my eyes tightly. My stomach rebels, the vomit only stopped by my sheer will. I hate to puke.
My eyes flutter open, then shut again. I float freely through the air, until I come to a sudden stop. Hold lays me down on… where am I? Out of the corner of my eye, I see green underneath me. Outside? On the grass? I look up to see the club’s ceiling, so I know I’m indoors. I feel the soft felt material beneath my fingertips. Wait… a pool table? Yeah, I look over to see the pockets and the eight ball resting on the corner of the table. I giggle. Maybe Hold is going to play some pool before we go home. His voice sounds loud; he’s somewhere near me.
“I am fuckin�
�� covering her. Any of you bastards who peek are getting their eyes fuckin’ cut out. Got it?”
He stands over me, tucking me in with a white sheet.
“You sure are cussing a lot t’night. You never cuss s’around me,” I say, my words slurring once again. My tongue feels thick in my mouth. I click it against the roof of my mouth to feel it tickle. Is that me laughing?
“Well, it’s been one hell of a night. Hels, I need you to look at me,” he says, patting my cheek.
It doesn’t hurt, but it gets my attention. I try to focus on his words.
“I need you to do one more thing for me. Okay?”
“Not for the club.” I don’t want to do anything else for the stupid killing club.
“No, this is for me.”
“S’kay,” I tell him.
My eyes keep shutting, but I try to make them stay open to look at Hold. He nods at someone over me. Ward comes to stand just above me. I don’t like him. I don’t like him at all.
“It will be official. Welcome, my daughter,” he says, leaning down to kiss my forehead.
I shiver with hatred for this man. I almost start screaming for him to move away, but then I hear the sound of buzzing. What is that? It seems to get louder. Ward steps back to grasp my arm. I feel other hands tightly grab my legs, my other arm, and shoulders to pin me in place. An overwhelming sense of fear swallows my soul. I glance around to see that I am surrounded by Hell’s Highwaymen. They circle the pool table, pressing my body unwillingly against it.
Oh my God! What is happening? Hurt me? Rape me? Not again! Please, not again!
“HOLD!” I scream his name at the top of my lungs. I try to move my body, but they won’t let me.
“I’m right here, baby,” he says, his face leaning down to mine. His hands cradle my cheeks. “Hush. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. Remember, Ward talked about this in the meeting. Badger is going to ink you so that everyone will know who you belong to.”
“Ink me?”
“He’s going to tattoo you.”
“With your name?”