It’s hard to keep eye contact and I’m the first to break away, glancing down, pretending to act submissive. I’m startled to see my whole hand wrapped almost completely around the hard length of Tey’s cock that’s creeping down his thigh. I try to move my hand away from him again but his strong fingers over mine hold him tighter. I can’t move even if I wanted to, the crazy fucker is practically moaning into his mashed potatoes at the painful grip. I eye the knife on the table, wondering if I can get away with stabbing him in a bloody mess and making a run for the door without getting caught. Deep in thought, I notice how quiet it is and look up to see everyone staring at me like they know just where my hand is under the table linen.
“Of course. I’m very grateful to you for looking out for me and welcoming me so kindly into your home.” The sarcasm is clear in my voice, I escaped one prison and may have ended up in another without meaning to.
I need to leave, I don’t even care if it’s to a bench downtown in the cold and surrounded by other homeless people. It’s better than being under these people’s thumb, where they have you until your last dying breath. I’m not stupid, I know they are into some shady shit. It’s evident in the way the guys hold themselves and seem to get away with just about anything. Hell, Dalton was getting a blowjob from a teacher, putting her in her place when I interrupted and she followed along with it. Everyone seems to give them a wide berth with wary caution. It’s a look I know enough. People fear them and that will only lead to trouble for me, for fuck sakes Dalton is connected to another motorcycle club. It’s only a matter of time before someone recognizes me or they sell me out. I don’t even want to know what kind of business they are in, but I’m curious what Logan’s dad does for a living. It just doesn’t add up.
“We look after our own, maybe you can get to know your stepbrother and see the way we run the business. It would be just… delightful to have you in the fold. We’re family after all.” Franco shares a long look with Logan, communicating about something that I don’t like.
Before I can ask what that business is, he clears his throat and places his napkin on the table to stand. Bending down, he kisses Diana on her cheek when she leans his way before rounding the table to stand behind my chair. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, I’m almost afraid to move. Diana doesn’t look at me, she stares straight ahead drinking her wine. Franco places his hand on my shoulder, squeezing hard enough that I know the tender spot will be red, and I try to hide my wince at the simple touch. Darkness clouds at the edges of my vision, my breathing picks up and I know I’m about to have a panic attack. His voice, the only thing keeping the memories at bay, the threat clear as he speaks.
“If you try to fuck me over, I’ll kill you,” he whispers into my ear before straightening, and with one more squeeze that makes me wince, he lets go to address Logan and Tey. “Make sure she sees the way we run things around here boys and that she’s... comfortable.”
He leaves the room after that, the sound of clinking utensils making me dizzy. What the hell was that about? It’s decided. I’m leaving tonight. I don’t have a choice. It’s be eaten alive in this cold fucking world or survive by dragging yourself out of your grave with teeth and nails.
I’m about to spiral into a memory that never leaves me and takes days to mentally escape. I’ve been threatened half my life by the Jokers and now Franco. It never ends. I need air... to get away without raising suspicion. I flex my fingers, hoping Tey will let my hand go, but he just continues eating without noticing. I’ll get him to notice and I don’t care if Logan sees me threatening his friend with a steak knife. He just raises a dark eyebrow and waits to see what I’ll do. Quickly, before I talk myself out of the consequences and the punishment that will surely follow, the knife is off the table and swiping across Tey’s hand, barely missing the veins that bulge along his hand and up his arm.
His quiet hiss of pain makes me freeze, it’s like my joints have locked in place and I’m just asking to get smacked around. The body is a fickle thing, your brain tells you one thing but the body doesn’t always obey. At least he releases my hand. I dare to flicker my gaze up, preparing myself for the first hit. It’s one you never forget. Only he’s staring at the trail of blood pooling on top of his hand, watching it slide down his wrist. I expected a lot of things but the wide grin and pearly white teeth that make an appearance wasn’t what I thought would happen.
“Tey, clear up your mess. Wouldn’t want to get the white tablecloth dirty,” Logan casually orders from his slouched position in his chair, his gaze watching my pulse pound like crazy in my neck, and sliding his index finger back and forth over his plump sinful lips.
A chair screeches back from the table, heels clicking fast over the hardwood floors before the noise disappears. It could have been Diana but I wouldn’t know because I’m busy staring into icy blue eyes framed by thick lashes, the color deepening a darker blue as Tey holds up his wrist to his mouth and slides out his surprisingly long tongue to lick up the trail of blood. I should be disgusted by his actions but the way he’s staring at me like he wants to eat me alive, makes my stomach tighten with deep need and has me wishing he would make me bleed for him.
It’s fucked up, I almost crave it.
I jump out of my chair so fast it goes crashing to the ground, but I hardly notice as my legs finally seem to be working, no longer frozen on the spot with fear, but with a desperation that makes me want to do very bad things.
“Aw, but it was just getting good. Come back, honey!” Tey yells, laughter following me out the archway.
“Sweet dreams, Tillie,” Logan says softly in that deep raspy voice of his, but it sounds like a threat.
Making it to my room, I slam the door behind me and flick the lock into place before collapsing to the floor; hugging my stomach and breathing deeply through my mouth so I don’t pass out. I need to plan how to leave without being noticed. I’m left with no other choice, I have to leave tonight before these guys decide to kill me just for fun. I’m done being threatened. Hurt. Used. There has to be somewhere out there for me to feel like my life isn’t in danger.
Crawling across the room, I grab my duffle bag from the closet and get to my feet to start throwing random clothing into it. It’s only eight o’clock at night and I don’t want to randomly make a break for the door now, I’ll have to wait until everyone is asleep. Might as well try to get some shut-eye, who knows when I’ll be able to rest once I’m on my own. Having to constantly look over my shoulder does get old but if it keeps me alive, I’ll forever have a crick in my neck.
Placing my duffle bag by my feet, my body starts to feel like lead and my eyes become heavy, I collapse into the plush comforter that feels like fluffy clouds. My mind races with the possibles, memories trying to break to the surface, beating against me. Before I know it, I’m already drifting away, hopefully, into a place where no one can reach me.
Tillie
“Run, Tillie. Keep running and don’t look back or he’ll catch up to you.” Doris pushes against my shoulders and keeps pushing until I stumble back a step under the weight she uses against me. “You're going to die here. He’s going to kill you, but not before he uses you first.”
Frantically, I turn on my hands and knees with gravel digging into my skin, scrambling to run away before hopping to my feet. I glance over my shoulder to tell her to run with me but she’s gone. Looking forward, my shoes skid across the gravel and I fall on my butt with a thud as fear eats my insides alive.
Cruz stands there with his belt unbuckled and that curved hunting knife in his hand with blood smeared on the tip. I look down in horror at my legs which are covered with open wounds, raised scars of his name carved into my skin over and over again.
“I’ll take and take until you beg me for death. Don’t you know that dirty whores like yourself don’t get to go to heaven? But don’t worry, I’ll make sure that by the time I’m done with you, I’ll be the God that you pray to.” He reaches down for me, tearing at my clothes as I scream and scream for him to stop.
An ear piercing scream wakes me up, I’m disoriented from the nightmare but quickly collide with reality as I realize multiple hands are ripping off my clothes. I flail around, kicking and screaming for them to get off me as a knife slices through my pants and shirt, leaving me in my underwear and bra. It’s dark in my room but there’s enough light from the moon through my curtains to see four tall shadows towering over me, hidden from my eyes but I can see the outline of white on certain parts of their faces. The design of skeleton makeup on each face almost makes me piss my panties. My brain can’t catch up fast enough with what is going on around me.
“Get the hell off of me! I’m not going back, you can’t make me!” I yell at the skeleton faces surrounding me, tears running down my cheeks.
I’m flipped onto my stomach, and my hands and feet are quickly tied with rope hogtie style. I end up flopping around on the bed trying to get away before a bag is shoved over my head, the material sucking into my mouth with every panicked breath. I’m tossed over a broad shoulder, jostled around, and not one of them says a thing as I call them every curse word in the dictionary. I hear car doors open and suddenly I’m being thrown into the middle seat. From the size of them, I know my chance to run is long gone… the Jokers have found me in no time at all. Two bodies squeeze in on either side of me, picking me up to place my head on one lap and legs on the other. The car starts, backing away from any freedom I thought I had and racing down the street, no doubt heading towards the compound.
It’s so quiet, I can only hear my deep breathing and the vibration of the car under my stomach. With my dream still on the edge of my mind and now going back to that death trap, all the memories I try to shove down come back to haunt me like an old friend.
The night I was raped on that cold dirty cement floor, the carving of the big letters of Cruz’s initials on my back, and the years by of being groped, violated, and never knowing when my time was coming to an end. The tears don’t come anymore, my breathing picks up so much that it rattles my body as I lay as still as a statue. A hand smooths down my spine so lightly, the rough pad of their fingertips stop at the dimples of my back before sliding back up, the small nicks on his hand familiar of gun use. My pulse jumps, my nipples hardening into points through my bra and I curse my body at the pleasurable touch. I’d rather they make it hurt, I don’t want to feel anything.
“I’ll kill myself before you get that part of me ever again,” I whisper the promise softly and let my body go lax under the continuing touch, deciding to save my strength for when I get out of this vehicle.
I’ll go down fighting.
