Page 8 of Blade
Mama is a hypocrite and pathetic. She’s just like all the club girls in this room, wanting a brother’s patch. She knows Axe won’t keep paying for her forever, and she also knows the brothers won’t disrespect my father’s memory by touching her.
“I am twenty-two,” I repeat, stronger this time, “I work full-time, and I go to school full-time,” I lock eyes with Axe, “It’s time for me to stand on my own two feet, and you don’t own me, you can’t tell me what I can and cannot do,” he scowls, but I finish bravely, “I paid the deposit plus the first month’s rent on thelease. It has good security doors and is in a safe area. It’s time for me to leave and find myself outside this club and honestly, there is nothing you can do to stop me.”
He shakes his head as Mama’s breathing gets heavier, and I sigh, “I have a paper to write.” Then I stand, not willing to stay in this room any longer than I have to.
“You’re just letting her get away with this?” Brock demands, and I hide my flinch as I make my way to the exit with all eyes on me.
I hear Axe sigh, “You heard her. She’s an adult, Brock. She wants independence, and we can’t take that away from her. She works her ass off and hasn’t asked for anything, even as a child. If she wants to move off club property, I’ll help her, but only after I vetted the apartment building.”
My heart flutters a little at his words, though it doesn’t dampen my hate towards him for keeping that man around.
Just as I reach the door, I hear Mama growl, “She is not moving off club property, Taylor, or so help me god…” while Brock snarls, “Wow, pres, first allowing one of the Dark Angels’ women to get away with splitting my lip and keying my prized possession, my fucking bike, and now this?”
The door shuts behind me, so I don’t hear my brother's reply, but I do hear his standard growl. I flinch but don’t stop my stride to my dark red Toyota Corolla.
I have a paper to write.
I blink several times as the words blur before me, then groan, throwing my pen down and giving up. I’ve been at this for nearly two hours and don’t think I can continue. I’m tired, so goddamn tired, and my whole body aches, and not just because I’ve been bent over my old wooden desk.
My body is still trying to heal from Brock’s abuse last night where he tied me to my bed and did whatever he wanted, with whatever he wanted.
I swallow hard trying to push back the horrors of the deodorant can tearing me and look at the clock and sigh but more with relief.
He would have normally shown up half an hour ago, knowing Mama would be with Screwball. He’s most likely with his regular girl, Crissy, at the club to get his anger out, and I can’t help the relief that fills me as I release a breath.
Shaking my head, I pack up my work, then stand, lifting my arms above my head and stretching, my back aching as I look around my nearly packed up room.
Tomorrow, I move into my apartment and honestly, it can’t come quick enough.
Rolling out my shoulders, I remove my top. I ignore the bruises along my ribs and hips and quickly undo the button of my jeans and remove them along with my panties, sneakers, and socks, and begin to walk towards my bathroom, ignoring the mirror Mama ordered I keep after I tried throwing it out. A hot shower is calling my name, but just as I touch the door handle my door opens suddenly, crashing against the wall and I still, my whole body locking up as heavy breathing echoes in my room.
No. He’s supposed to be with Crissy. He didn’t come when he normally does… No, no, no, no.
I’m vaguely aware that I’m nearly naked, only my bra in place, as his footsteps stomp towards me, and the relief I had only five minutes ago turns into absolute fear, and my tears fall.
I can’t keep doing this, I can’t.
I can feel my pulse race, and my body begins to shut down. The fight I used to have years ago is well and truly gone, knowing what is about to happen yet again, especially knowing how mad he’s going to be about me moving out.
His hand fists in my loose hair tightly, and I quickly grab his hands out of instinct to push him away while digging my nails into his skin, hoping to hurt him, but he ignores me and yanksme back, and I cry out in pain before he shoves me to the floor, ensuring my knees land with a thump.
Pain rickets through my body as I hear him unbuckle his belt before suddenly, he grabs both my arms, forcing the front of my body forward, my head banging on my floor making me dizzy and my nose throb.
I blink several times, trying to get my wits about me as I feel my hands being tied by his belt, the leather digging into my wrist, and I cry out again as he pulls hard, the position of my arms bending in an unnatural angle behind my back instantly hurting as he pushes me face down again, using my arms as his hold on me and I feel wetness underneath my nose.
I’m bleeding.
I tense as I hear the rustling of a condom wrapper before he places his member at my dry entrance.
He murmurs, “If you think I’m going to allow my woman to move out, to try and see other people, then you’ve got another thing coming,” before thrusting hard and sharp pains shoot through my insides, and bile rises.
I thrash against him, trying to dislodge him but he pulls his hold on my arms to keep me in place sending more pain through my body.
Tears spill as he thrusts hard and fast, using my body muttering, “You’re mine, fucking mine,” repeatedly and slowly, I can feel my body begin to shut down, knowing this is what my life is going to be, and I can’t stop it.
Dating, finding love, getting married, having kids, none of it will ever happen to me because Brock will never let me go, and even if, by some miracle, he crashes his bike into a tree and dies, I’ll always feel dirty.
He grunts, rutting his hips before he groans, spilling inside the condom while I try to think of ways to end it all if I can’t escape from this hell.
