by Marie, Kay
“Give her time. I bet as soon as Cali has the baby, all the girls will get baby fever,” Buster says.
“And then we’ll end up with a clubhouse full of kids.” I snicker. “That’s about the last thing we need right now.”
“No shit,” Raze agrees. He seems to mull over his thoughts of trying to knock Minx up. And now, thanks to these assholes, I have thoughts of Sienna, belly swollen, carrying my child. It hits me right in my heart. I finally found the one woman who I can see myself settling down with, only to have her ripped away from me. I shake the thoughts out of my head and down the last bit of my whiskey. It burns all the way down, and once the burn subsides, I’m left with thoughts of Sienna again. I’m not sure what made me think that drinking whiskey would be a good idea.
30
Sienna
The next day, Scarface’s brother brings me breakfast. This time, he only has a small bottle of water and two pieces of dry toast. This must be one of their tactics to try to break me. The kid doesn’t say anything to me either. I’m sure Scarface reprimanded him for that yesterday. I don’t make a move for the tray until he leaves the room.
Picking a piece of toast up, I take small bites, eating it slowly. After I finish the slice of toast, I take a drink of my water and end up chugging it. With there being nothing in this room and nothing to do to pass the time, I stand from the mattress and move to the window. Not even a nice view. All that’s around are old run-down, abandoned buildings. I’m not sure how long I stand there staring out the window, but I don’t peel my eyes away until Scarface comes into the room.
“Get the fuck away from the window,” he demands. I roll my eyes and stay where I am. He mumbles something in Spanish before he stomps his way over to me. He smacks me across the face so hard, I feel my eye instantly start to swell.
“Let’s go,” he growls out, grabbing my arm and yanking me out of the room. We go down to the main floor, but don’t stop there. There’s a door in the main hallway. We stop in front of it while he pulls out a set of keys and unlocks the door. He nudges me to walk down the stairs ahead of him while he follows on my heels.
Once I get to the bottom, I step to the side to let Scarface pass. As he walks by me, he grabs my arm again. If I ever get out of this, I’m going to have a permanent bruise on my arm. There are five steel doors down here. Scarface walks me down to the second door on the right and pauses.
“What you’re about to see is the last girl who gave me as much attitude as you,” he tells me. Before I can respond, he opens the door. My face screws up in disgust as my nose is assaulted with the nastiest smells. I cover my mouth and nose with my arm and glance around the room. My heart beats so hard it feels like it’s going to come right out of my chest.
There’s a girl hung by the ceiling with chains wrapped around her wrists. She’s completely naked and her skin is different shades of black, purple, and yellow. She has cuts and scars hidden in the bruises. By the way the girl looks and the way it smells in here, I would guess she’s dead. When I least expect it, she attempts to lift her head.
“Please, help me,” she croaks out, barely audible. My breath catches in my throat as I choke back a sob. Scarface brought me down here to scare me into submission. With any other girl, it might work. Call me dumb, but I grit my teeth and hold my head high. They can beat me within an inch of my life, but I’ll never let them win.
“This is where you’re headed if you don’t start acting like a good little whore and do what you’re told,” Scarface says, his face right by my ear. I don’t flinch, staying as still as I possibly can. I don’t want him thinking he can rattle me. He huffs out an angry breath at my lack of response.
“Vamonos, let’s go,” he says. Grabbing my arm, he ushers me back to the stairs. He walks me back to my room and shoves me in. I try to stay on my feet but trip, falling to the floor. When I turn around, he’s already closed the door.
* * *
A month goes by and I’m still in the hell hole. For the first two weeks, they were feeding me twice a day. Then they switched to once a day. The kid let it slip that Torres doesn’t want Scarface beating me like the girl in the basement. I’m sure that won’t last much longer. Scarface has evil in him. I can see it in his eyes every time he comes around. He also eyes me like he wants me for himself.
I scoff— like that would make me submit. If I was his, he would have to kill me before I would submit to him. Torres hasn’t been around in the past few weeks. Apparently, he’s gone further into Mexico. Another piece of information the kid let slip. He’s not built for this life. My guess is Scarface dragged him into it and won’t let him leave.
Scarface barges into the room, phone in his hand. With the lack of food and water I’ve been given, I’ve become extremely weak. They don’t bother locking the door to my room because I have no energy to try to run. I can barely make it to the bathroom on my own.
“Up you go, chiquita,” he tells me, pulling me to my feet. “Time to take some pictures.”
I attempt to spit at him, only to earn a backhand to my face. I laugh, nothing about it is humorous. It sounds evil. Crazy even. I’ve never heard such a sound come from my mouth.
There’s a copper taste in my mouth. I dart my tongue out, wetting my lips and realize my bottom lip is busted open. Scarface takes a step back and I wobble on my feet. He takes a picture and turns to leave. Once he’s out the door, I fall to the mattress. I’m sure potential buyers will love seeing me in this condition. My hair is a rat’s nest and there’s a layer of dirt and grime covering my skin. Not long after Scarface leaves, the kid comes in with a towel, new lingerie, and a toiletry bag.
“Come on, chica. Time to get you cleaned up,” he tells me in a soft voice. He helps me to my feet and walks me into the bathroom. He puts the lid of the toilet down before having me sit so he can turn the water on. While we wait for the water to warm up, he hangs the towel and lingerie on the towel rack. Leaning against the counter, he starts pulling things out of the bag. A travel-size soap, shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, things that will make me feel like a real human again. He checks the water then turns to face me.
“Are you ready,” he asks me. I want to ask him if that’s a trick question. Instead, I nod my head. He helps me stand again and steadies me while I take my bra and panties off. With his help, I step into the shower. He sets the shampoo, conditioner, and soap on the edge of the bath.
“I’ll be outside the bathroom. If you need anything, just let me know,” he tells me as he closes the shower curtain. My legs begin to tremble, so I lower myself onto the shower floor, letting the water hit me.
After a few minutes of sitting there, I muster up enough strength to stand and wash my hair. I pass on using conditioner, mostly because I’m tired of standing. I wash my body as best I can while sitting. When I’m done, I turn the water off and the bathroom door opens. The kid walks in and his eyes go wide.
“Are you okay? Did you need help,” he asks, kneeling next to the tub.
“I don’t know how you got wrapped into helping your brother do such evil things,” I say to him. “But your heart is too gentle for you to do this shit.”
His face turns red.
“Let’s get you dried and dressed.” He brushes off what I said and grabs the towel. I take it from him, drying off what I can while sitting. Once I’m done, the kid holds me up so I can dry the rest of my body. He helps me climb back out of the tub and keeps me steady as I put the new lingerie on.
“I’m supposed to take new pictures of you,” he admits and I nod.
“Do what you need to do,” I tell him. He helps me brush my teeth and hair before walking me back into the room.
“Do you want to stand by the wall so you have something to hold on to,” he asks me.
“Sure,” I reply. “Thank you.”
He props me up against the wall, then stands back to snap some pictures. As soon as he finishes, he comes to my side and helps me to the mattress.
“For wha
t it’s worth, I’m sorry you’re in this situation,” he says, then leaves the room.
31
Shade
A month has come and gone and we still haven’t found Sienna. We’ve been working with the Murphys to find her. With each day that passes, I worry more and more that she might not ever come home. And I can’t help but blame myself. I have so many pent up emotions, I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t find an outlet soon.
I walk out of my room to Bull’s office. He’s not there. I try the main room next, even though there are too many people for me to be around at the moment. I’ve been having a hard time being around everyone all at once.
“Hey, brother. You good,” Rascal asks me.
“No, not really,” I tell him honestly. “Have you seen Bull?”
“He went out. Didn’t say where he was going,” he says. “Can I help?”
“I need some kind of outlet or I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind,” I admit to him.
“You wanna shot in the octagon,” he asks. By that, he’s talking about the underground MMA fighting. It’s about as popular as the race wars around here. I’ve never thought about getting in on that, but I’ve trained a hell of a lot with some of the brothers. At the same time, I’ve never had all these strong as fuck emotions that I have now.
Even back in the day when Pops beat me, I would either smoke, race, or work on a car and one of those always helped. Smoking hasn’t helped worth a damn the last few weeks. And for the first time in my life, I have no desire to race or go near a car. This shit is fucking with my head.
“That might be what I need,” I say.
“There’s one goin’ down tonight or is that too soon,” he asks.
“It’s fuckin’ perfect,” I reply.
“Race wars and the big fights were last weekend, so tonight is more of amateur night,” he tells me.
“Sounds good to me. Let’s roll.”
“Where we goin’,” Clutch asks. I roll my eyes.
“Rascal and I are going to the fights,” I say.
“I’m down,” Clutch replies.
“Alright, but let’s go before anyone else tries to tag along,” I say to both of them.
We get to the warehouse that holds the fights in twenty minutes. There’s a good amount of people already here.
“Come with me,” Rascal says as soon as Clutch and I step out of my car. We follow Rascal into the warehouse. We navigate through the crowd of people and walk up to some guy with a clipboard.
“Ray! My man,” Rascal greets him.
“Rascal! Long time, no see, fucker. How’s it goin’,” Ray asks.
“Been better. My brother, Shade, needs in on a fight, asap,” Rascal tells him, hooking his thumb at me. Ray looks me over, then glances at his clipboard.
“Yeah, for sure,” Ray says. “I got a spot in about twenty minutes.”
“Perfect,” Rascal and I say in unison.
“Right on,” Ray replies. “Just be back here, ready to go in fifteen.”
We don’t stray too far from Ray after we finish talking to him. I came prepared, wearing basketball shorts under my sweats, and a t-shirt. We check out the fights going on right now. Both of the guys in the octagon look like toothpicks with arms. They’re visibly fit, but are tall and lanky, slightly lacking the muscle that I’m used to seeing on a fighter. Rascal did say this was an amateur night.
These twigs don’t even know how to fight. They’re both letting their anger control them and aren’t pacing themselves. One kid isn’t even guarding his face. The other can’t throw a straight punch.
I know what it’s like to lose control of my emotions during a fight. I also know if I had waited any longer for an outlet, I would have ended up looking like these fools. Before their fight is over, I walk back to my car to put my sweats away. I fold them and toss them into the back seat. I lock my car up and take a couple of deep breaths before heading back in.
“You ready, brother,” Rascal asks, slapping my back. I nod once and we make our way over to Ray. There’s a guy standing next to him that’s a couple of inches taller than my six-foot. He’s bulky and gives off meathead vibes.
“Oh, this should be good,” Clutch mumbles to me, then chuckles. I’m doing my best to stay focused. I’m not going to let some rookie asshole pull one over on me.
“Shade, this is Tyson,” Ray introduces me to my opponent. “Tyson, Shade.”
We fist bump.
“Follow me, fellas,” Ray says and walks toward the octagon. Tyson and a couple of his buddies follow Ray while Rascal, Clutch, and I follow them. We stop just before the entrance to the octagon.
“Tyson, red corner. Shade, blue corner,” Ray instructs us. I pull my shirt over my head and slip my shoes off my feet, followed by my socks. I hand everything to Clutch to hold on to.
“Do your thing, brother,” Clutch says to me. Rascal pulls me to the side.
“How’s your headspace?” He’s asking if I’m going to be a loose cannon or if I’ll have my shit under control. It’s an appropriate question, considering everything that’s been going on.
“I got a lot of built-up emotions, but I’m good,” I admit to him.
“Good. You got this. Take that fucker down,” he says with a smile.
“You know it.” I walk to the octagon entrance and climb the stairs inside. Ray and Tyson are standing in the middle, waiting on me.
“Alright, fellas. This isn’t the UFC. There are no rules,” Ray explains. Tyson and I both nod. “Bump fists.”
I hold my fist out to Tyson. He looks at it with disgust and walks to his corner. I let out a sound that’s a cross between a huff and a laugh and walk to my own corner. Ray walks out of the octagon and closes us in.
“Kick his ass, Shade,” Clutch yells to me.
A bell rings, signaling the start of the fight. I walk toward the center of the octagon, keeping my face guarded while this fool bounces around, exerting himself more than he should. He rushes toward me, swinging a wild right hook. I duck with plenty of time to spare. When I stand again, I toss an uppercut right into his jaw. He stumbles back but catches himself before he falls. He’s pissed. If this dude were a cartoon, he would have steam coming out of his ears. He moves in a circle to the right, causing me to move, too. There’s no way I’m letting him close enough to hit me.
With all the moving he’s doing, he’s bound to wear himself out. He's not cautious of his moves. He’s hot-headed and predictable. He throws his leg up to kick me, but I jump back to avoid it. His eyes keep darting between me and someone in the crowd, telling me he’s trying to show off for someone. My guess is a female. His head isn’t one hundred percent in this fight. He was doomed from the start. He takes a step closer, still going between me and the crowd.
When he looks back to the crowd, I take a chance and throw a roundhouse kick. My foot connects with the side of his head, knocking him to the floor. I take the opportunity to get more hits in. He starts out guarding his face, so I pound punches into his abs. He lowers his hands just enough for me to throw an elbow to his face. The hit makes him drop his hands and I throw punch after punch into his face, making it a bloody mess.
I must blackout, because the next thing I know, the bell rings to end the fight and Rascal is dragging me off Tyson, yelling at me to snap out of it. Rascal sets me on my feet back in the corner I started in,
“Fight’s over. You won,” he tells me. I glance over at Tyson. His buddies are with him and he’s drenched in blood, barely moving.
“Let’s go get you cleaned up.” Rascal ushers me out of the octagon and into the locker rooms. Surprisingly, there are showers in here. Rascal walks to a closet, grabs a towel, then hangs it on a hook by one of the showers.
“Rinse off. Clutch will be back with your clothes in a few minutes,” Rascal tells me. I nod and walk into the shower with my shorts on. Once I close the curtain, I take my shorts off and toss them outside of the shower. I stand directly under the water, leaning with my
hands against the wall and my head hanging between my shoulders.
As soon as I stepped foot in that octagon, it was TJ’s face I saw, not Tyson’s. When we find TJ, it’ll end much differently than this fight. TJ will die, be it at my hands or someone else’s. I will see to it.
I get some body wash from the dispenser on the wall. This thing is actually pretty neat. It has a spot for body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. You hit a button for the one you need and it pours it into your hand. I wash my body and hair in record time, ready to get back to the clubhouse. Turning off the water, I reach out of the shower to grab my towel. I dry off, then wrap the towel around my waist.
When I open the shower curtain, no one is in here, but my clothes and shoes are sitting on the bench. I get dressed and put my shoes on, then head out of the locker room to find Rascal and Clutch.
“How ya feeling,” Rascal asks when I find them.
I shrug. “Ready to find TJ and make him suffer,” I admit.
“We’ll find him. Some slow and painful torture is definitely in his future,” Clutch says. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and a number I don’t have saved flashes across the screen. I hesitate, but something is telling me I should answer it.
“Hello?” I say into the phone.
“Shade, it’s Finn Murphy,” he tells me. “I think we found Sienna.”
32
Sienna
A few days have gone by since the kid came in to clean me up the first time. He came in last night to help me shower again. On top of that, they’ve been giving me more meals and water throughout the day. Oatmeal instead of toast. They must have had someone express interest in me if they’re doing all of this.
The thoughts of who I’ll be going to next kept me up all night. I mean, what kind of person buys another human? I’ve been luckier than other girls here. Scarface might slap me when I stand up to him, but I don’t have bruises or cuts all over my body. I shudder as I think of the girl I saw in the basement. Things could always be worse.