I pulled at the zip ties again, not because I expected it to work this time, but because I wanted to feel that pain again.
Then I heard the key in the lock. The door was opening and I looked up, preparing myself for the next assault.
* * *
The man who came in this time didn’t have the Dark Legion patch on his cut. He belonged to the Hell’s Drifters. We had gotten intel earlier that the two MCs were now working together, so I wasn’t surprised to see him here.
He walked slowly towards me now, his boots crunched on the floor as he wrapped a bandage around his knuckles. It was a bloodied bandage—from his bleeding knuckles or was it blood from punching someone else?
“Your friend from the Dark Legion was here to see me earlier, we had a nice chat. He told me about his hopes and dreams,” I said, beginning the conversation.
When his face came into the light the other guy had left on, I saw the long scar that stretched right across his face diagonally.
“I’m sure you did,” he hissed and stood over me, winding and unwinding that bandage again. It seemed like it was just one of his habits.
“So, this is how low the Hell’s Drifters have sunk, cohabiting with the scum. Dark Legion. Those pussies.”
He snarled as he glared at me.
“And what do you know about pussies? You’re just a boy,” he said and then laughed at his own joke. Or rather what he thought was a good joke.
I was already too drained and exhausted, and trying hard to keep my eyes wide open.
“I know what your mama taught me,” I replied and his punch hit me hard across the face. He squared his shoulders and took a step back. For a moment I felt like I’d dislocated my jaw.
“You think you and the rest of your MC are so smart, pitting us against each other. We’re going to grow in number by patching in the Dark Legion to our club,” he growled, adjusting his bandages again.
“I didn’t see my friend earlier with your patch,” I said and he shrugged.
“Some of them still need to prove themselves. Just because they want a piece of our pie doesn’t mean we’re going to give it to them that easily,” he said.
“Very wise. You must be an intelligent man,” I said and sniggered, because that sounded really funny to me.
Scar-face knew I was mocking him and he rushed up to me again.
“You need to learn to keep your mouth shut, motherfucker,” he growled and this time his punch landed on my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.
As soon as I was able to recover my breathing, I smirked at him again.
“You should tell your mother the same thing,” I said and he growled and came at me again.
“You are fucking dead. A few more days. We get the territory and then you are a fucking dead man!”
He punched my face again and this time I fell over. My body thudded on the floor, along with the chair I had been tied to. I could feel my bones vibrating from the impact. It was a nasty fall and I started seeing black. I thought I was going to pass out.
But, I didn’t pass out and scar-face pulled at my chair and straightened me up again.
“You keep up that talk and maybe we won’t keep you alive till tomorrow,” he hissed in my face. Good. That was exactly what I wanted. To piss them off to the extent that they finished me off. That way the Marked Skulls wouldn’t have to trade with them for my life.
It was the least I could do for all the ways that I had failed them.
“I’d do anything for another touch from you, handsome,” I said, with a smile stretching my lips. His eyes were bloodshot now. It was pissing him off to see that no matter how much he beat the shit out of me, I was still laughing at him.
He growled before he kicked me in the ribs.
“Motherfucker!” I shouted out in pain as I fell back down on the ground, dragging the chair along with me. If only my hands were free. This pussy wouldn’t win an actual fight against me if the field was level.
He was about to punch me again when the door to the room opened again.
“Caesar!” the guy at the door yelled. Scar-face, or Caesar, cursed under his breath, stopping himself in time from kicking me again. He turned and went up to the door and I could hear the two of them talking.
I was lying sideways on the floor now, my hands still tied to my back. I tried to even my breathing so I could listen more closely.
“The fuck is this shit?” Caesar growled at the other guy.
“They want to speak to him. It’s the only way they’ll go through with it.”
They were talking in whispers. I knew what they were saying. It was the Marked Skulls on the phone. Scar-face cursed some more and headed towards me, he had a phone in his hand now.
“Looks like it’s your lucky day,” he hissed and crouched down on the ground to hold the phone to my ear.
“Dash!”
It was Lewis’ voice at the other end. The president of our MC. He sounded worried.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Don’t come looking for me.”
I realized then how weak I sounded.
“Are they beating you up?” Lewis was shouting over the phone.
“Don’t come looking for me.”
“Where are they holding you?”
Before I could say anything more, Scar-face had pulled the phone away from my ear and ended the call.
“Feel better, motherfucker?” he growled and before he walked away from me, he kicked me in the ribs again. I was pretty sure they were cracking under his boots now.
I could barely move.
He walked up to the door.
“Straighten him up,” he hissed to his buddy and then left the room.
I glared at the door, breathing hard, blood and sweat dripping down my face. I hoped Lewis got the message. That he understood. I didn’t want them to come looking for me.
I’d gotten myself in this mess and if I was going to come out of this alive, I’d make my own way out.
4
Harley
Harley
Sometimes I blocked out a lot of what happened to me at the clubhouse, specifically what Caesar did to me. For instance, today when he asked me to rub his feet, I did as I was told but a few hours later, I had no idea what I had done.
It was tragically mechanical. I sat at his feet on a low stool and he placed his feet up on my knees. Four other guys from the club sat around us, drinking and talking, while I pried his boots off his feet.
They were sweaty and they stank and I wished I hadn’t spent so much time doing my nails and giving myself a manicure the previous night. The little luxuries that I awarded myself were always useless.
I zoned out, blocking out their voices and the things they were saying while I massaged and rubbed Caesar’s feet. He sat there with a can of beer in his hand, hardly noticing I was even there.
When he decided he was done he pulled his feet away. I tried to rush away from them but before I could escape, he pulled me to himself, forcing me to sit on his lap.
Eight years ago, an act of mild affection such as this from him would have gotten my blood pumping, my heart racing. But now, all these years later, I felt sick to my stomach when he touched me.
He ran a hand down my arm, touching and grabbing and stroking. He was definitely in a better mood today than most other times. I wondered if this had anything to do with the man they were talking about earlier, the one they’d kidnapped.
His hand traveled down to my legs, and slowly towards the insides of my thighs. Some of the guys sniggered when they noticed the way he was fondling me. I saw the blood-stained bandages on his knuckles. He’d been beating somebody up. Why didn’t that even surprise me anymore?
“You want it?” he hissed in my ear.
There was no right answer to this. If I said I didn’t, he would have his way with me anyway. And if I said I did, he would laugh at me and humiliate me in front of his friends.
Instead, I remained sitting on his lap, waiting for him to make his decision.<
br />
Luckily, he decided he didn’t and he pushed me off his lap and I was hurrying away.
“Harley!” he growled and I stopped abruptly, feeling too nervous to turn and look at him again.
“How’s the girl?” he said, grinning like he’d said a joke. He never asked about Amanda. He didn’t even know what she looked like.
“Good,” I murmured and ran.
Behind me I could hear them sniggering and laughing. They all found it amusing how meek I was, how I always did what I was told.
If it wasn’t for Amanda’s safety, I would have run away a long time ago.
What saddened me most was that Amanda spent most of her time in daycare, even though I wanted nothing more than to spend time with her myself. But I couldn’t afford it. The few hours that I was free from the clubhouse, I took up shifts at a local bar.
It wasn’t like the Hell’s Drifters were giving me much money to sustain a livelihood or my daughter’s. I had to work extra hours at the bar whenever I could, to make ends meet.
From the clubhouse today, I rushed to daycare. It was still early; the guys had been too distracted to give me more work and I was able to make a quick escape.
My little girl’s eyes lit up when she saw me at the door. Celine, the girl who was in-charge of the kids, always had such nice things to say about Amanda. She insisted that my daughter was nice and polite and kind, she was also very attentive and there was definitely a strong spark of intelligence in her.
Nothing in the world could describe the relief I felt to know that she hadn’t turned out to be like her father. And now, after the experiences I had been through, I could see why my parents had wanted to shield me from everything.
That’s how I felt about Amanda too right now. Like I would do anything to keep her safe and away from danger. Would she despise me too when she grew up? The way I despised my parents?
I was always afraid of that happening. I promised myself I wouldn’t be overprotective and I would encourage her to be whoever she wanted to be. If only my parents had left the house and their lives open to me, I would have been able to return to them when things started going wrong with Caesar. Instead, I knew they would never take me back.
I wanted Amanda to know she would always have me. No matter the bad decisions she made.
“Did you have a good day, honey?” I asked when she came running to me.
She nodded, throwing her arms around my neck so I could lift her up.
“Mommy! You’re early!”
“I know, I wanted to surprise you,” I said and kissed her soft cheeks.
“It’s a good surprise,” she said and I laughed. She always knew exactly what to say to cheer me up.
“Are we going home?” she asked as we walked to the car park.
“I was thinking we could do something fun.”
“Like what?” Her eyes were glowing with excitement and I wanted to give her the world.
“Maybe we could go to the zoo?”
Amanda’s squeals were enough for me to know she definitely liked the idea.
* * *
We were at the zoo and Amanda fell in love with the flamingos.
“They look like candy floss!” she squealed, trying to get their attention while they continued to stand on their one legs.
I laughed and followed her along while she pointed and giggled and asked a million questions. She was inquisitive and smart and had a good soul, and that was all that mattered to me.
Even though I had low resources and practically no self-worth anymore, I wanted my daughter to grow up differently and have a good life. As long as I could keep her far away from her father, I was convinced she was going to be all right.
When we arrived at the section of the penguins, she couldn’t control her excitement at how cute they looked.
“Mommy please can I pet them? Please?” she begged and I lifted her up in my arms.
“You can’t touch them, baby, you know that. I know you only want to love them but they don’t like being touched. They’re afraid of us because we’re bigger than them and more powerful,” I said.
“And stronger?” she asked and I nodded.
“And you must promise me you will never use that against anyone or any animal ever. You must treat everyone as your equal,” I said and she nodded and kissed my cheek.
As we walked around, we saw many other kids with their parents. Fathers and mothers who’d brought their children to the zoo and were having the perfect family day out.
I caught Amanda glancing at them some times and there was a look of longing in her eyes.
We bought ice cream cones and walked around the zoo some more, her hand in mine.
“Mommy, do I have a daddy?” she asked out of the blue. She hadn’t asked me this question in a long time and I hoped that my presence in her life would be good enough. But now that she was growing up, it was obvious that she would have more doubts. I couldn’t keep hiding the truth from her, as much as I tried.
I could have told her everything. Who he was and how he abused me and was a violent dangerous man. I could make her see why it was important that she never went looking for her father, that she never went near him. I could tell her the truth and maybe she would understand why I was the only person in the world she could trust.
But I couldn’t say it. She was too young and way too innocent. To fill her head with those thoughts would make her sad. I had to keep it simple.
“Yes honey, everyone has a daddy,” I told her, stopping so I could crouch down in her front of her.
“So, where is he? How come I’ve never seen him?” she asked, pouting her lips.
I gulped and licked my lips nervously. How was I supposed to explain this to her without giving too much away?
“Honey, he is not a very nice man and mommy decided she wanted to raise you alone,” I said. Amanda searched my eyes. Her hair was like her father’s; dirty blond, but she had my green eyes.
“He isn’t a nice man? What has he done?”
Her voice was thin and weak now. Had I said the wrong thing? I was worried of making her sad. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel inadequate in any way.
“You don’t have to worry about anything, honey, not as long as you have me. And you will always have me. You don’t need to worry about your daddy. You will never have to see him.”
I brushed some hair away from her face and smiled at her but Amanda was not in the mood to smile back.
“If my daddy was nice, would we all be together?” she asked.
I leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“Yes, honey, we would. I’m sure we would.”
“Then I wish I had a daddy who was nice.”
I nodded.
“I know, baby, I wish that too but you don’t need to worry. You’re happy, aren’t you?”
“Yes mommy, I’m very happy,” she said, beginning to smile now and I pulled her into my arms.
“Then that’s all that matters. Not everyone has a daddy who lives with them and that’s okay,” I said. Amanda nodded like she understood but I knew she would still be thinking about it.
* * *
These were the few hours that I had to myself, when I had put Amanda to bed and the apartment was dark and quiet.
We had a small TV in the living room which was also the kitchen, and I switched it on and put it on mute. I busied myself with doing the dishes and then cleaning around the house a little.
It seemed like that was all I did all day. I cleaned at the clubhouse, then I waitressed and cleaned the tables at the bar, then I cleaned my own apartment. Thankfully, Amanda was a well-behaved child and she very rarely made a mess.
I went to check on her some time later and found her sleeping soundly in her bed. I couldn’t look away from her, at how beautiful and peaceful she looked like that.
I hoped I’d answered her questions well and she wouldn’t be too sad about not having the presence of a father in her life. Of all the things I regretted,
this was what I regretted the most—knowing that I couldn’t give my daughter the one thing she most needed; a father figure. Someone she could trust and depend on.
I returned to the living room and eventually went to sleep on the couch. My body ached from overworking and constantly being on my feet, but this was all I’d known for the past seven years and I couldn’t predict an escape.
5
Dash
Dash
The last kick in the ribs really knocked me out. I was still on the ground, with my hands behind my back and the chair weighing me down. How long had I been lying there?
With no water or food in sight I was beginning to feel even weaker now. I was running out of thoughts and motivation both. My body hurt. Every joint and muscle and nerve seemed to be on fire. Like someone had lit a bonfire around me and now the flames were engulfing me.
I was accustomed to a good thrashing. I might have been a prospect with the Marked Skulls, but I’d been part of a street gang since I was a teenager. I’d enjoyed my fair share of a good fight but nothing had ever felt like this before.
Now Scar-face Caesar was gone and I could have been lying there for hours without a clue of what was going to happen next. Then, just when I thought I was going to pass out again, the door opened.
I was expecting it to be Caesar. He looked like the kind of guy who would enjoy torturing a man for no reason. But it wasn’t him, instead, it was the Dark Legion guy from earlier who I’d spat on.
“Did you trip?” he asked with a laugh as he walked over to me.
“I have two left feet,” I told him, with whatever strength I still had left in me. He rolled his eyes and came over, lifting me up along with the chair.
“Some people here seem to think you need to be kept alive a little bit longer,” he said and I clenched my jaw. That could only mean one thing—that the Marked Skulls were in talks with them. Trying to negotiate my release.
Marked Skulls MC Series: Books 1-5 Page 60