Cheshire (Underland MC #2)

Chapter One

Eliza

The room swam in a haze of fear and broken glass. Sheriff Holmes’ face twisted into an ugly snarl, eyes burning with rage. He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white. This wasn’t anything new for my father. Just another day in my miserable life.

“Stand up,” he barked, voice like ice. I forced myself to my feet, trembling like a leaf, tears streaming down my face.

“Please don’t,” I whispered, but my words fell on deaf ears.

“Shut up!” His fist collided with my cheekbone, the force sending me sprawling back to the floor. The air rushed from my lungs as if I’d been sucker punched. Pain exploded through my skull.

This is it. This is how I die .

“Get up,” he spat again, reveling in the torment he inflicted. The darkness in his eyes chilled me to the core. I scrambled to my feet, legs shaking, praying for some kind of reprieve.

“Look at you,” he sneered, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking me closer. “Pathetic.”

“Please, stop,” I whimpered, too weak to resist his iron grip. In that moment, I knew I was nothing to him -- just another thing to control and bend to his will. He’d never think of me as a daughter, as family. I wasn’t sure a monster like him was capable of such a thing.

“Did you think I’d let you get away with it? That I wouldn’t find out?” He punctuated his words with a vicious blow to my stomach, causing bile to rise in my throat.

Can’t breathe. Can’t fight back. Just need to survive . I curled up to protect my already battered body.

“Learn your place,” he hissed as he landed one final punch, then turned to leave, his heavy footsteps echoing in my ears.

I didn’t know what I’d done to make him so angry this time. It could have been anything. Maybe I’d put something in the wrong place. I didn’t think I’d ruined any of his clothes when I’d done the laundry. No matter how hard I thought about it, I had no idea what I’d done.

Blood dripped down my face, each droplet a painful reminder of the violent flurry that had just unfolded. I stared at the cracked mirror on the wall, catching glimpses of my battered reflection between the jagged lines. The pain was unbearable, but what hurt more was the feeling of utter helplessness.

“Is this it?” I whispered to myself, choking back tears. “Is this all my life will ever be?”

My eyes scanned the room, taking in the shattered glass and twisted remnants of what had once been my sanctuary. How could I ever feel safe again, knowing that he’d violated every inch of this space?

I pressed my hand against my bruised ribs, wincing at the sharp stab of pain. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine a world where the torture ceased, where I could finally be free from his sadistic grip.

“Maybe death would be better,” I admitted, my voice barely audible. “At least then, I wouldn’t have to live in fear.”

The thought sent shivers down my spine, but also brought an odd sense of comfort. In death, there would be peace. No more beatings, no more humiliation, no more heart-pounding terror that gripped me every time he approached. Even if there was nothing but a sea of darkness on the other side, it would be preferable to this.

“Eliza,” my father’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I realized he was standing in my doorway again. “Don’t think I’m done with you. If you ever try to defy me again, I won’t hesitate to end your miserable existence.”

Fear slithered its way into my throat, choking me as I struggled to find my voice. “Yes, sir,” I managed to whisper, quivering under the weight of his gaze. I couldn’t ask how I’d defied him. Doing so would only spark his anger again.

“Remember that.” With one last chilling glare, he slammed the door behind him, leaving me to wallow in my own despair.

Trembling, I realized that even the thought of death couldn’t save me. The fear of my father, of Sheriff Holmes, held me captive in a prison more terrifying than any physical cage.

“Death or life,” I whispered into the void. “Either way, I’m trapped.”

My heart pounded, and my hands shook. I didn’t even remember my mother anymore. She’d died so long ago. I thought we were happier then, but I didn’t know for sure. Had my father always been a monster?

“No escape.” If I tried… I dragged myself up, wincing. Bruised, battered, weak. That’s what I saw when I looked in the mirror. At times like this, I hated myself. If I were strong, would I be able to stand up to him? Or if I were more cunning, could I escape?

“Damn him,” I muttered, the words barely escaping my swollen lips.

The sound of motorcycles roared in the distance. I knew they’d belong to the local motorcycle club. I’d seen them at a distance many times.

A light tap on my window drew me over to it. “Who’s there?”

I kept my voice low, not wanting to draw my father’s attention again. “It’s Maria from next door.”

“Maria,” I breathed, relief washing over me for a brief moment. We weren’t exactly close, but she’d noticed my wounds before and done her best to help. Although she too feared my father.

“Open the window,” she urged.

“Can’t be seen together,” I reminded her, my gaze darting around the room in panic. “He’ll hurt us both. If he thinks you’re helping me…”

“Eliza, listen,” she said urgently. “I’ve found help. The Underland MC. I think if you can get to them, they’ll protect you.”

“Protect me?” I scoffed, disbelief coloring my tone. “From Sheriff Holmes? No one can do that. It would be different if my father were anyone else.”

“They can,” Maria insisted. “Those men aren’t scared of anyone. I don’t have proof, but I think they’re responsible for something big that went down a few weeks ago.”

“Help from bikers?” I questioned, my mind racing. “How can I trust them?”

“They look big and scary, but they do a lot of good around town. And from what I’ve heard, they’re all ex-military,” she said. “They’re your only shot, Eliza.”

“All right, but how?” I asked.

“Tonight. If you can get away, I can take you to them. I was behind one of them at the grocery store earlier. Heard him on the phone talking about meeting everyone at a diner in town.”

“I’ll try.” I didn’t want to think of the consequences if my father caught me. He might actually kill me.

* * *

I’d waited until I heard my father leave the house, and night had fallen. Then I’d slowly opened my bedroom door and crept down the hall. I’d made it all the way to the front door when someone grabbed my hair and yanked me off my feet.

I yelped and dropped to the floor as they released me. When I looked up, my heart raced. My father, Sheriff Holmes, towered over me. His cold eyes seemed to pierce through my soul, a cruel smile dancing on his lips.

“Think you’re clever, huh?” he sneered, hatred dripping from his words. “Where were you slinking off to?”

I tried to shrink back, but the wall left me no escape. Fear clawed at my insides, and I instinctively raised my hands in a feeble attempt to protect myself.

“Please,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face.

He lunged forward, his fist connecting with my jaw. Pain exploded through my skull, making my vision blur.

“Pathetic,” he spat, grabbing me by the hair and yanking me up.

“Stop!” I cried out, frantically trying to pull away from his grip.

“Or what?” he taunted, his voice cold and ruthless. “You gonna cry for Mommy? Oh, wait… She’s dead.”

He struck my ribs repeatedly, until I thought I might die. The pain was unbearable, taking over every inch of my body. My breath came in ragged gasps, each one feeling like a knife in my chest.

“Please,” I choked out again, my voice barely audible. “No more.”

“Are you gonna learn your lesson now?” he asked, his tone mocking.

“Y-yes,” I stammered, terror forcing me to submit.

“Good,” he growled, finally releasing his grip on my hair. He let me crumple to the floor, my battered body screaming in agony.

“Remember this,” he said, his voice menacingly low. “You ever try to defy me again, and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

“Understood,” I whispered, tears streaming down my bruised and swollen face.

“Pathetic,” he muttered one last time before stalking out of the house, leaving me a broken mess on the floor.

After he left, I lay there for a while, pain radiating from every inch of me. But I couldn’t give up. Not now. Slowly, painstakingly, I pushed myself up from the floor, my body protesting against the movement.

“Dad’s gone,” I whispered to myself, a feeble attempt at bolstering my courage. Leaning against the wall for support, I stumbled toward the front door.

My hands shook as I reached out for the knob, biting down hard on my lip to stifle a cry of pain. Pulling it open was torture. Every fiber in my being screamed in protest.

Once outside, the chilly night air hit my face like a slap. It stung and soothed in equal measure against my battered skin. Tears filled my eyes and for a moment, everything blurred. Blinking them away, I forced myself to focus. There was no room for mistakes.

The next few steps were agonizing and seemingly impossible. Each one felt like walking through a field of broken glass.

I had almost reached Maria’s house when the roar of engines filled the air. Panic surged through me. I pressed myself against the shadowy side of a nearby shed to hide.

Moments later, several motorcycles roared past me on the main road, their riders hidden behind darkened helmets. My heart pounded in my chest as they zoomed by. Were these the men Maria had told me about? No. They didn’t wear the black leather vests like the others did.

After they had passed and silence returned to our quiet neighborhood, I pushed myself upright again and limped toward Maria’s house.

Just as I reached her door, it swung open, and she stepped out into her yard. Her eyes widened when she saw me in the moonlight.

“Oh, God,” she gasped, rushing toward me with hurried steps.

“I tried,” was all I managed to mutter before my legs gave way beneath me and I fell into her arms, the world spinning in a whirlwind of excruciating pain and darkness.

Maria caught me before I hit the ground, her small frame straining under my weight. She muttered something under her breath as she struggled to keep us both upright, her eyes aflame with determination and worry.

“We’re going to get you out of here, Eliza,” she said fiercely, her voice barely above a whisper. But I wasn’t sure if I believed her anymore. The pain was too much, the situation too dire. My father’s threats echoed in my ears.

As unconsciousness loomed, my last thought was that I wouldn’t survive this hell much longer.

My weak body gave up completely then, and I sank into darkness, any fight left in me evaporating.

* * *

When I came to, Maria was doing her best to clean my wounds, her face a mask of focused concentration. “You’re going to be okay,” she kept repeating, more for herself than for me.

I knew she was lying, but I didn’t have the strength to argue. Instead, I let her work in silence, my body throbbing with pain. With each swab of disinfectant she applied, a new wave of agony washed over me, causing me to grit my teeth against the discomfort.

“How long was I out?” I asked.

“Nearly twenty minutes,” she murmured.

Suddenly, the sound of an approaching car made us freeze. It stopped nearby, and somehow, I just knew it was my father. I heard our door slam shut, then his bellow of rage.

“It’s him,” Maria whispered to me. She looked pale under the dim light pouring in from the lone window. In that moment, I knew we were thinking the same thing -- we were trapped.

But Maria was not one to give up easily. She quickly helped me into a small cupboard near the window, covering me with blankets before closing the door as quietly as possible.

“You need to be quiet,” she instructed, her voice barely audible.

I nodded from behind the door and watched through a crack as she ran into the darkness toward the backdoor.

“Maria!” my father bellowed loudly enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

I peeked through a crack in the door and watched as he barged into Maria’s house with his men following closely behind. Deputies just as twisted as my father. They’d do anything for him. They roughly tore through every room searching for me while Maria desperately tried to convince them that I wasn’t there.

Tears welled up in my eyes as he held Maria against a wall, my father’s face inches from hers.

“Where is she?” he threatened, gripping Maria by the throat.

Maria managed to choke out a defiant response, “She’s gone… You’ll never find her.”

I watched in horror as my father’s fist connected with Maria’s face, sending her sprawling onto the floor. His men joined in, their cruel laughter echoing off the walls.

Anger boiled within me, but I was helpless. They continued to torment Maria while I hid. I heard every punch, every kick, every blow. I wanted to scream, to fight back, but I couldn’t. All I could do was curl up inside the cupboard and pray for it to be over.

As dawn approached, they finally left. Silence hung heavy in the air once they were gone.

Shaky and weak, I pushed the cupboard door open and stumbled over to where Maria lay motionless on the floor.

“Maria,” I choked out, gently shaking her. She groaned in pain but didn’t open her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed as guilt washed over me. This was all my fault. All this pain and suffering was because of my inability to stand up to my father.

But as tears streamed down my cheeks, something deep within me stirred -- a spark of determination that hadn’t been there before.

I wouldn’t let him win.

Maria needed help, but who could I call? My hand shook as I reached for her phone and pulled up the number for one of her family members. They didn’t answer so I left a message. Until someone arrived, I’d wait with her, and do what I could. Getting up, I went to fetch warm, damp towels to clean her up. Maybe the damage wasn’t as bad as I feared.

Why do I have to be so useless ?