I think that Rage had believed my mother took something from him. When, in reality, the only one who had done the taking was my father; he stole my mother from Rage. Or at least, that’s what I’ve been told.
Now it’s been years, and I am a prisoner for my parent’s actions.
I’m done thinking that they’ll swoop in and save me from my fate. There is no happy ending left for me. The only thing left is the darkness, and I’m oh so close to it.
You don’t know me, you only know what I allow you to know.
-Curiano.com
KAT
Smoke fills the clubhouse. The mixture of cigarette, cigars and vape smoke floats through every room. Hardly any door is ever shut anymore. Privacy is a thing of the past. The men here prefer to be able to see everything, especially if they’re looking to track their bitches down. In most cases, that’s just it.
“Kitty! Where have you scurried off to?” I hear his voice before I see him. Like the shadow of death, he is constantly surrounding me. In a sense, maybe that’s what he is. The scars on my body prove just that, don’t they?
Rage hasn’t caused every scar on my body. I am guilty for causing most of them. Slicing my skin is a way for me to cope with what I am, how I’m treated, and what I’ve become. Once, a long time ago, I wasn’t even a fraction of the fragile girl I am today. I may have aged, and years may have passed – but oh, how I was once strong and resilient. Now, I am nothing but silent and obeying.
If I cared enough, I’d laugh. Who knows, maybe I’d even hate the girl I am. Now, though. I can’t even give a damn.
I give zero fucks.
I turn around slowly and face him, keeping my face as stoic as possible. After doing this for so long, I’ve learned quite a bit. If you think I’m maintaining my silence as a way to survive, you’re dead fucking wrong. I’m being quiet for one reason, because I don’t give a damn. My life is worthless. I am nothing more than an object to him, a means to a grueling end. I just wonder when that will happen. Will he even let me die in peace, or will he fight to bring me back just to make me suffer even more? I ask the question, and yet I already know the answer.
There is nothing merciful about Rage. The only way I will be able to meet my maker is to plan accordingly. I will find a time where I’ll be alone, it doesn’t happen too often, but immediately I think of tomorrow night. He’s already told me how my presence isn’t welcome in his meeting. In most cases, he wants me kneeling next to him with my collar around my neck. He holds the leash and shows everyone his perfect Kitty.
I don’t know how I’ll do it just yet, but the fact that everyone will be there with him gives me enough confidence to do it. No one will be watching, and not a damn person will try to save me. That I can guarantee. Everyone in this club is the same.
Calling them monsters would be a compliment. Savage wouldn’t even cut it. I suppose there is no true word on which I can call the members of the Demons of Hell MC.
“Come here, Kitty, Kitty.” I listen to Rage’s demand, walking over to him like the obedient pet that I am.
He’s aged so much in the years I’ve been here. His hair turning from grey to an ice snow white, wrinkles appearing all over his face, almost as if every day there is a new line that I haven’t noticed before.
Emotionless. Unbothered. I act like a void, because at the end of the day, I am only a shell of the person that I used to be.
He taps on my cheek, and I open up, all the while knowing he’s bound to put some drug in my mouth. If anything can help me feel nothing, I will gladly accept the peace that it gives me. He sets the small circular pill on my tongue. I close my mouth, swallow, and wait for it to take effect.
The most ironic part about this is that Rage knows I will do anything he asks. There will absolutely be no arguments that pass through my lips, no fighting, not even an eyeroll or a huff.
No matter how long I’ve been here, I have never been able to get into his head. To figure out just how his mind works.
“Kitten.” I glance over and see Trigger, who greets me softly, eyes lingering for a moment too long. Rage watches his gaze, and just like that Trigger begins speaking to Rage about club politics, all while not wavering his eyes from my body. What no one should dare forget is this, I belong to Rage. I am forever his, for as long as he chooses to keep me. No one touches me, fucks me, or dares to even look at me. If they do; they’ll live to regret it for the rest of their days. It looks like Trigger didn’t catch the memo, or maybe he just doesn’t care. Regardless, it will get him killed.
I tune out almost everything, whatever Rage gave me quickly takes effect. Suddenly, I’m so much more relaxed than I’ve been in such a long time. He’s given me a lot of drugs, but this has to be one of my favorites. “We’ve had a lot of interest in the community for new prospects. Are we opening the flood gates and letting a few boys in?”
I can smell the hookah right next to the bar, the hints of chocolate and mint floating through the air. You would think the mixture of the different types of smoke would stink, but they don’t. They mold together like a fine chocolate, layer after layer, offering something more interesting than the next. Then again, maybe that’s the drugs talking. It’s right here in this moment that I know what Rage gave me, X, ecstasy. He has me testing the product. Bastard.
I glance around the room, trying to figure out who the courier is. Who gave him this shit…. I know for a fact he isn’t buying from the cartel. He and Ramirez have been fighting for ages apparently, sworn enemies of each other. I act like I don’t hear diddly squat, but I do, I listen, because information will help me in so many ways. If I was smarter, I might use information to help me get out of here. Hell, maybe I’d have used my body at this point with one of the boys, and we could have plotted my escape. I’m not some bitch from a fairytale, though. There is no escape.
There is only one thing.
Death.
I plan on meeting the Grim Reaper as soon as I can, after all, being a Reaper is in my blood.
There is no such thing as failure.
There are only results.
-Tony Robbins
DAMON
Somehow, I manage to make it back to my room without picking her up over my shoulder and slamming her down onto the bed below me. Every fucking day that passes is a test. She tests my limits constantly, and tonight, Rage saw me staring. I fucked up, but that goes unsaid.
She is a fucking vision, the golden goose. Rage knows what he has, even if he doesn’t truly understand it yet.
I’ve been here for a while, and from the first day, I noticed her. I don’t know her entire story, only that she had been with Rage for years before I showed up. Not sure how long, and I bet if I asked she wouldn’t have the slightest clue either.
I have information on her, information that makes Kitten valuable beyond belief.
I take off my cut, setting it down on my bedside table. Next comes my shirt and jeans, and after I’m stripped bare, I slide into my bed and stare up at the ceiling above me.
Years.
I have been here for fucking years and have come up with next to nothing.
A trojan horse for my father, Roman Raines, AKA the half-brother of Rafael and Alejandro Ramirez. Our ties with the cartel are strong, as they should be. After all, what is life without your familia? I’m reminded of that constantly, we make sacrifices for the family, the family comes first. After all, I should understand that more than anyone. Are my brothers and sisters asked to do my father’s dirty work? No. It’s just me. The eldest, the one of which who holds the most responsibility.
We aren’t Ramirez’s. My father tells us that all the time, we are Raines. I have a hard time understanding why he works for his brothers, how his MC somehow turned into this, into me working undercover and finding out where the enemy is purchasing product. He wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with it, so he sent me.
When he sent me, I practically came in blind, knowing almost nothing. It wasn’t until I was ove
r a year in that I knew Rage and my father had a past. A night of hard drinking caused Rage to get sloppy, he spat out information from years ago that my father didn’t fill me in on. It didn’t take me long to put together that my father left, with more than half of the brothers that were with the Demons of Hell, it’s when he founded the Brotherhood – the MC I grew up in.
The moment I discovered that, I knew that this wasn’t business. This was personal. It was exactly the reason my father didn’t send anyone else to do this job. He wanted to make sure it was done right and followed through. When I was done here, I would ruin them and he knew that. I’m like my father in a lot of ways. Rage won’t know what hit him.
I lay here waiting for the sandman to take me. This happens every night, where I lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. My mind constantly running, not allowing me to rest. All I can think about is how there is so much more to do; the only thing I want to do is finish this. I need to get to work.
Tomorrow, though.
Only so much can be done in one day.
***
“Papa is going to be furious when he finds out you came here today. Someone could have followed you, you know that! Don’t you?! How could you be so careless? Hmm? How could you?” I watch my sister, Amara, closely. She looks just like our mother; fair skin, long auburn hair, and somehow her personality is all our father; reacting first and using her brain second. She’s right. I probably shouldn’t have come here, and yeah, someone could have followed me, but what my sister forgets is that I’m careful. I’m not a rookie, I know what I’m fucking doing.
“I needed to get out of there. You don’t understand how it is.” I needed to get away from her, that’s what I should have said, but then my sister would know there was a problem. We’re Raines. We don’t deal with problems.
“No, you’re right. I wouldn’t understand because Papa doesn’t give me nearly as many opportunities as you. He chose you to do this. He fucking chooses you for everything. There are more of us, you know, not just you, Damon, on your high and mighty horse.”
I scoff.
There is nothing high and mighty about the pedestal my father puts me on. I would give anything for him to give Amara, Rose, Ashton, or Lyon the attention that he gives me. There are five of us, and he acts like I’m the only one here.
“Do you think I asked for this shit?” I snap at her, waiting for her response. I lift myself off of the couch in her apartment, walking past her coffee table and pacing next to her island. “I didn’t fucking ask for any of this. He put me there. He told me to go, so I went.”
“Oh, what a good little soldier you are. Should I give you a round of applause?” she grumbles, clapping her hands together.
“Stop being such a fucking bitch, A!” At this point I’m yelling. She knows every exact way to piss me off. Sometimes, I wonder if she does it on purpose. “You’re just pissed because he doesn’t choose you for anything. You want to know why? It’s because you fail him, every single time.”
Amara’s face goes ghost white.
Fuck.
I shouldn’t have said that.
Shit.
“You are just like him, you know…you want to say that you aren’t, constantly fighting it, but at the end of the day, when you’re not getting your way, you are just like him. You hurt people, using their feelings against them. All you are is Roman two-point-oh. How do you like hearing that, dear brother? Does the truth sting?”
“I am nothing like him,” I firmly tell her.
“You are exactly like him, don’t kid yourself.” She walks past me into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of tequila from the counter top, pouring herself a shot and handing me another.
“I’m not like him,” I hiss, taking the shot back, the alcohol stinging my throat as it goes down.
“You’re infiltrating a club for your own personal gain, you’re exactly like him.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said –”
I cut her off immediately. “I’m not in this fucking club for any other reason than to give Dad what he wants. He wants to know who the Demons are buying their drugs from, it’s not the cartel, and I’m so fucking close to finding out where and who is supplying them. The Demons are expanding where they’re dealing, which poses a threat to all of us. If our uncles suffer, we suffer, or do you not remember that? Oh, and let me enlighten you a little bit, Dad didn’t exactly give me all of the fucking information when he sent me there. He left out big pieces of information, baby sister.”
Amara watches me. I know what she’s thinking, she thinks I’m fucking with her, that I pulled a lie out of my ass and am feeding her with it. Our father says time and time again that we are Raines, and while we are, we also have the Ramirez blood flowing through our veins. Our loyalties will always lay within the familia. I might be in the club because Rage is fucking with cartel business, but let’s not be naïve, I’m here to finish my father’s war.
“Have you ever wondered how Mom got that scar, just below her chin, the one that crosses down her neck, into her shoulder?”
I wait, and when Amara doesn’t speak, I continue.
“Rage held a knife to her throat and did that. He was trying to kill her. She was pregnant with you when that happened, and you want to know how I know? Because Rage fucking told me. He told me so much about our father, how Dad left and started the Brotherhood. We haven’t even hit the tip of the iceberg. I’m just wondering what else Dad hasn’t told us.”
“Papa is going to right the wrongs that were done to us, to our family, and to every brother that was fucked with by Rage and his insane schemes. He’s a sociopath, a sociopath who still has one of the largest clubs in America. You know what Papa is doing, right? We’re not just squashing Rage’s drug supply, or the business threat to the Cartel. We’re going home, and we’re taking back what was rightfully ours. I mean, c’mon Da’…. Who do you think the Prez is going to be after we slaughter them?”
I stand there, staring at my sister who has an evil snicker spread across her face, a replica of our father, down to his mannerisms. She claims I’m just like him, when she hasn’t even taken a look in the mirror.
“If you think he doesn’t share things with me, you’re insane, and in case you’re wondering, it’s you, big dummy. Papa is giving you what’s yours. You just have to take it, no distractions. Just get the job done.”
No distractions. Yeah fucking right.
I have a pretty big fucking distraction, and her name is Kitten. I’m supposed to be watching her, but not in the way that I am.
Sleep isn’t just sleep anymore, it’s an escape.
-TheGoodVibe.Co
KAT
The day passed by much quicker than I anticipated. Rage was busy with club business and shooed me away when the meeting began.
I went up the stairs into Rage’s room. When I was dismissed, this was where I was to go. Sometimes, he would allow me to stay downstairs in the club with the others, but if I’m honest, I really didn’t care much to be around anyone else. They all knew what I was, and I knew what they all were. The point is, they all knew that I was below them, and Rage made damn sure that I knew it as well.
Tonight, is the night where I won’t have to stand by and have to endure another moment of misery. I say I don’t care, and I don’t – but doesn’t one have to care in order to go to the lengths of suicide? I guess so.
There are so many ways to kill yourself. I’ve thought of many, of how I could slit my wrists with a razorblade and let myself bleed out in the bathroom. I knew what would happen. I would hurt as the razor dug into my skin, and then I would bleed, and after a certain point, my body would begin to panic, a natural instinct. It would be fear, and that fear would cause me to act irrationally, maybe I’d even try to get help – but that’s not what I want. I don’t want help, so I can’t go that route.
Option after option plays through my head, almost as if I can imagine every scenario. Brutal thoughts invade my mind, but I know t
hose will fail. Unless I have someone else beating me to death, it will be pointless.
Finally, it hits my mind.
Pills.
We always have plenty of pills.
I could just slowly drift off to sleep, and I’d never wake up. Never would I have to endure this life ever again, I would just drift into death.
Maybe death is where I can find peace.
I walk around the room to the corner of his bed and open the bedside table. There is bound to be something in here. I won’t say that I know Rage, because the point is that I don’t. I only know what he reveals to me. In a sense, the man is as stoic and guarded as I am. The only time he ever slips up is when he’s been drinking heavily. The old dog can’t hold his liquor like he used to, that’s for damn sure.
I place my hand on the old worn knob and pull it towards me. As the drawer opens I can finally take the breath that I was holding in. I see it, right there, a tiny Ziploc baggy filled with pills. Just from looking at them I can tell what they are, Vicodin. Like I said before, I pay attention to what goes on here. I listen, it doesn’t matter that I don’t use my knowledge to help me get out, I just keep it locked in this noggin of mine. Rage has been using a new drug supplier for years. He buys it from a guy at a discounted price and then the club sells it on the street for profit. Up until very recently he’d only been selling heroin, oxy, the small stuff; if that’s what I can even call it. He’s been trying to implement the use of Vicodin into the community, I guess he wants to test his product for once. Usually, I’m his lab rat, taking anything and everything he puts in my fucking mouth.
I take a quick glance around the room and spot a beer bottle from my peripheral, walking over to it I grab it and shake it slowly from side to side. There’s still enough in there to help me get down at least most of the pills. It’s not ideal, but it’ll work.
This is bad. I can’t even remember how long I’ve been here, I know it’s been years…but just how long? I stopped keeping track of the days after two years went by, after that point it was pretty much pointless. No one was coming to save me. The only thing I could do was survive, and for what? To become Rage’s pet, his toy to show off to everyone that he could. How fucking pathetic. That’s how I’ve come to the point I’m at today, with a beer bottle in one hand and my eyes on a bag of pills.
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