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My heart raced as I tried not to stumble on the rocks. My palms were sweaty, and blood covered my back. Panting I ran to the edge of Winchister mountain and looked down. The howling wind blew my curls in my eyes every which way.
I bent over hoping to grab onto the sides and shimmy down to the bottom. But it was too steep. One wrong move and I would die. I didn’t want to fall to my death, but the sounds of gunshots and hoots of laughter made me believe I had no choice. I was running out of time.
Trying to gather my courage, I drew in a steady breath. It was now or never. If I backed away from this cliff, I would be going right back into his hands. I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t do that.
Tears slid down my face at my dilemma. With a trembling lip, I started my descent down the cliffside when a burly claw gripped my wrists dragging me up. I let out a blood-curdling scream as he pulled me backward.
“Noooo!” I howled, trying to scratch his arms. His leather cut was in the way, and I couldn’t do any damage to him at all.
“Sloane, Sloane, Sloane. Didn’t I tell you not to run?” The leader of the most dangerous MC grinned at me.
He was a goddamn lunatic. He had told me to run as fast as I fucking could, knowing full well there was no way out. No way to escape him. It was all just a crazy game, and I could feel vomit bubbling up in my throat.
In a move showcasing his ruthlessness, he lets one wrist go. Holding my tiny frame up by one arm. I hadn’t had anything to eat in I don’t know how long. My rib cage showed every time one prospect tore my shirt off my body, if I was allowed to wear any clothing at all.
Starving in the pits of hell. That had been my life for longer than I could comprehend.
He grabbed my throat, dragging me to his face. His scent washed over my body, and I shivered, holding back my need to piss myself. This man was the monster of my dreams. A creature so dark, so depraved, I knew that if I lived past this night he’d haunt me forever.
“It’s time to come home.” His menacing tone left no room for argument. No room for bargaining.
I could feel my eyes wanting to roll into the back of my head, but I tried to stay strong. I survived and escaped. I could do it again. One more time.
Ignoring my screams, he dragged me from the edge, causing my body to rub against his. I verped in his face and tried to hit him with my elbow, but he squeezed my neck. Oxygen deprived, starving, and numb, I prayed for death. But unfortunately for me, God wasn’t listening.
I sat straight up in bed with a gasp clutching my throat. Fuck, it was just a dream. I looked around my tiny apartment, one I had scored from the only Asian family in this town. They had wanted to move closer to their family in California.
Must be nice to have family.
When I came stumbling onto this property, battered and bruised and knocking on their door to inquire about the “For Rent” sign, the wife let me have it for only two hundred dollars a month. The wife made me promise I would maintain the apartment like I owned it. She also asked me if there was ever a time another woman in my similar situation crossed paths with me, I’d help her. I swore to her I would.
No one should have to live in the hell I had. If there ever came a day that I could offer sanctuary to someone in this town who needed it, I would. Despite the way I’d been treated, I was born here, and would likely die here.
I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It’s only midnight. The witching hour.
It’s been a couple of days since I’d gone into the city and fucked the mysterious scarred man. I had gone to work that day smelling like him, and all the other waitresses made fun of me for looking so disheveled. The bitches weren’t my friends, so I didn’t crow with pride. I didn’t have any. This entire town was a cesspool of people hating each other.
The exact opposite of what a small town should be.
Briskly nodding to myself like a lunatic, I grabbed my robe off the hook. I walked to the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove. My grandmama always used to tell me, “When you have a bad dream, it’s best to drink tea. You can soothe the pain away and try to go back to sleep.”
I stood on my tiptoes and found my Gryffindor mug that my father had bought me right before he was murdered. It was chipped, but beloved. Just like he was. Death was strange like that. He was here one day and gone the next. I wish I still had him to lean on in times like this. But the irony of that wasn’t lost on me. Had he still been here, I wouldn’t be having this hard time.
“It’s too early for this shit.” I knew talking out loud wouldn’t garner a response, but sometimes I was lonely. But these days, I could be in a crowded room and still feel alone.
Maybe I could get a cat or a dog. That way I would feel like there was someone in this world who gave a damn about me. Someone who cared about me. But a pet would just be another target for the MC, another way to hurt me. Nothing was sacred to them.
I sat on the small back porch overlooking the mountains. I wished the sun was rising. At least then I’d have something to look at. Instead, all I got was a few stars shining down on me from high in the night sky. Maybe one would fall so I could make a wish.
When I was younger, I had many hopes and dreams. I wanted to go to school for business and bring us legit. I thought I would rule with an iron fist alongside my dad. None of that panned out. I got stuck lying on my back, forced to open my legs for any motherfucker who walked in the door. All because I’d said no.
But would my life have been any better had I said yes?
If I were a normal girl, I could live a life where “no” meant something. But I wasn’t normal. I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone no. My rights were taken from me the moment my father drew his last breath, and my current lot in life cast on my eighteenth birthday when I’d rejected that marriage proposal.
I just wanted to feel safe again.
At least in the daytime I could hold on to some semblance of normalcy. I could act like there wasn’t a proverbial monster lurking on every street corner waiting for me. I was tired trying to anticipate the next moment they could hurt me. It’s why I went to work like I did—every single day I could. Boring, but at least I was fairly safe there. The monotony kept me from losing my mind.
