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Big Dick steps forward again, a knife now in his hand. “Where did they go?” he roars through gritted teeth.
I hold his hate-filled stare, the tiniest bit of oxygen filling my lungs. Just enough to keep me from passing out. Big Dick presses the tip of the knife to my belly. “Where. Did. They. Go?”
I’m still sucking in air, but only the smallest bit is going into my lungs. My head swims, and I know I’m about to pass out. My stomach rolls, ready to release its contents all over the floor in front of me.
Big Dick’s face is in mine, the blade still pressed into my stomach. Enough that I can feel the tip of it break my skin through my shirt
“Where did they go?” he roars, his eyes wild.
I open my mouth as if to answer, and when Big Dick presses closer, ready to hear what I have to say, I gather up the saliva in my mouth and spit it directly into his face.
Big Dick blinks at me in shock, his expression turning to disgust, and the knife at my gut disappears. The next thing I see is him slamming his head forward and into my already pulverized nose.
Darkness takes over. A sweet escape, no matter how brief.
BOO
Sneakingfrom Alan’s bed in the middle of the night, risking his ire later for leaving him when he’d ordered me to stay, I find my way back to the small room I share with two other girls, only to find my small pallet in the corner occupied by someone else.Just my luck. With a defeated shrug, I head down to the shared bathroom. At least with everyone asleep, I can enjoy the hot water in peace before everyone else uses it up.
Reaching inside the dingy, mint green tile stall, I twist the knob. The water pressure sputters until a steady stream finally appears. For a club with so much dirty money, between the drugs they peddle and the women they traffic, you’d think they could at least afford some upgrades to their clubhouse. Guess their money is best spent elsewhere.
I return to the row of sinks and peer into the mirror, taking in the thick dark circles under my eyes. Sleep never comes easily anymore. I never know when to expect Alan to want me to service him, or someone else wanting me for chores. The only time I ever seem to sleep is when Alan chokes me out, or I’m lucky enough to conk out from sheer exhaustion.
What a life I live now.
I draw my hand up to my cheek, delicately fingering the bruise forming from my time with Alan last night. A mirror image to the finger shaped bruises he’d left on my throat. My light freckled skin shows every mark and scar. Even my hazel eyes are dim under the torturous care of the Screwballs MC. My hair is askew, with little pink stray pieces sticking out from my braids. The rosy hue has faded without proper care or more hair dye. I was lucky to get some as it was. I’d found it cleaning out the room of one of the girl’s they’d sold, hidden away in her suitcase. I’d always wanted to see what I would look like with pink hair, so I tried it. My reward for doing something for myself? A black eye from Alan, because he hated it.
You’re a mess, Boo. A goddamn mess.
I grip the edges of the sink as hot tears spill from my eyes. Crying seems to be my only outlet to the life I’ve been dealt, and only in these quiet moments to myself do I allow them to rise to the surface and break free. I cry for the pain inflicted upon my body. I cry from the frustration of not being able to change my situation, because I know, deep down, the only way I’ll get out of here is in a body bag, or buried in some hole with God knows how many other countless, nameless women this club has chewed up and spit out. Shells of their former selves because of their own, or someone else’s mistake, of crossing this club.
I allow myself to sob until there’s nothing left. No more tears. No more energy.
Stripping down, I step into the shower and let the hot water soak into my cold soul. Back against the wall, I slide down till my bottom hits the floor, wrap my arms around my knees, and allow my mind to drift to things outside of this hellhole that could help me find some peace. I eventually start to doze off under the spray, finding some sort of quiet comfort, until someone jerks back the curtain, allowing cold air to seep into my warm sanctuary.
“There you are,” Tammy purrs, her devious smile almost cat-like on her round face, her red hair twisted up in a messy bun. I’d almost say she was pretty if I didn’t know she had a soul as black as the men in this club. Tammy wasn’t like the rest of us, because unlike us, she wanted to be here. “Look at you, pathetic little Boo, trying to hide from her fate.”
“What do you want, Tammy?” I murmur, shifting my gaze back to the tops of my knees.
“Alan’s looking for you.”
He never leaves me alone. He’s like my unwanted shadow, following me wherever I go, no matter how small of a space we’re in. If it hadn’t been for the extra whiskeys he’d had last night, celebrating with the club over their new prisoner, I doubt I’d have been able to find my reprieve this morning. He was stone-cold passed out when I left his room.
“Why did he send you if he’s looking for me? He stalks me just fine on his own.”
"It’s cute how you try to fight back, Boo. Watching that smart mouth of yours pissing off Alan is one of my favorite pastimes around here. Keep it up, will you? Your defiance makes me look good.”
“Sure thing,” I mumble, rolling of my eyes. “Anything to make it easier on you, Tammy.” If I knew how to make it harder for her, I’d do it in a heartbeat. She deserves all the bad shit for what she deals out to the other girls tenfold. Jozie, the girl who had come in shortly after me, died after Tammy spiked her cocktail with enough roofies to tranquilize a full-grown horse, all because she wanted her to stop crying so Tammy could get some sleep. Thanks to her, the guys put a stop to us drinking, taking away the one thing we had to numb ourselves with. Of course, Tammy spun it, making it out as if she committed suicide. And with a few rounds of blow jobs, the club was inclined to believe her.Idiots.
“That’s a good girl.” She starts to walk away, but then stops, peering over her shoulder with a sinister smile. “Better hurry. You don’t want to keep Alan waiting.”
I’d keep him waiting for the rest of my life if I could.
Getting to my feet, I turn off the water, step out of the stall, and wrap myself up in a towel. The abrupt change in temperature sends goosebumps along my exposed skin. I quickly gather my discarded clothes and rush back to my room. Depositing my dirty clothes on my now empty bed, I throw on some clean underwear, a fresh pair of jeans, and a plain white T-shirt.
Running a comb through my pink hair, I coil it into a tight bun at the base of my neck and head out to the main room, where it’s quiet this time of day. Early mornings aren’t exactly popular for a bunch of guys whose work is often done under the cloak of darkness. A few of the other girls shuffle in and out of the galley-style kitchen behind the bar, each of them carrying a small bowl. Cherry, another one of the imprisoned girls, spots me and waves me over. I want to join them, but I know the consequences of making Alan wait.
With a smile, I shake my head and make my way toward Alan’s room in the officer’s hallway, my heart racing with each step I take. I knew sneaking out would piss him off, and the fear of what lies behind that door scares the hell out of me. Would he chain me up this time? Whip me like he had a few weeks ago when I dared to go outside for some fresh air after the club had filleted a man in the middle of the main room? That had also earned me a shiny new ankle monitor, linked straight to Alan’s phone. If I stepped out of the clubhouse, he’d be on me in a flash. With Alan, it’s a toss of which version of Hyde I’ll be greeted with. There is no Jekyll side to him. Just a monster in a leather vest.
