Micro (Phoenix MC #7)

One

I messed up, and he’ll be so mad at me. I was so terrified of dad’s reaction that I hid from him, but that always only made him angrier. Everything did.

“Boy! You get your ass out here right now!” No! I had no choice but to obey him, but he’d hit me, because he always hit me when he was mad.

I crept out of the corner I’d hidden in, and instantly a hand grabbed the back of my clothes and dragged me to my dad. His club brothers were so mean too. Skull was the worst of them. He was dad’s VP, and he liked to trip me up and stuff, when dad wasn’t watching, not that I thought he’d care anyway.

“Boy, what did I tell you about playing near the fucking bikes?” I cowered in front of him, fighting the urge to cover my face, before he could hit me.

“Stand up straight, and be a fucking man!” He yelled, smacking the back of my head. “No son of mine is gonna be a fucking coward!”

“Sorry, sir,” I whispered, trying to lift my head, but avoiding his eyes, because if I met his eyes, he saw that as me being a brat.

“Did you hit Skull’s bike with your ball?” It was his bike? Oh no, oh no no no! Dad was going to kill me, and if he didn’t, Skull would. He’d enjoy it too. I’d heard him saying about how he liked to hurt someone called Carla, that making her cry made him hard. I wasn’t sure why being hard was a good thing, because that sounded like it meant he was meaner. Meaner wasn’t ever a good thing.

“Boy!”

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry. I tried not to hit it, but it bounced.”

He smacked the side of my head hard enough that I fell sideways, landing on my hip with a painful thud. I pressed my hand against the painful area, and fought the tears, because crying wasn’t allowed. Men don’t cry . I’m not a man yet, but dad says I never will be, if I keep crying like a little girl.

“Stop making excuses, and get back up.”

I struggled back to my feet, and stood before him once more.

“Get the fuck out there, and clean that smudge from his bike, and if he’s not satisfied when he’s done, I’ll whup you so hard you won’t sit for a week.” Damn. Even if I did the best job possible, Skull would lie anyway, so dad would beat my ass. There was no way to win, but I nodded rapidly.

“Yes, sir. I promise!”

Present day – Micro

E verything hurt, literally everything. I knew I had broken bones and fractures, and a head injury of some kind, and that was to be expected when you’d leapt from a speeding vehicle, as it crashed down a hillside. Honestly, I thought I’d have been crushed beneath it as it rolled, but believe it or not, I was lucky. Was living ‘lucky’? Apparently . When the pain was at its worst, I genuinely believed surviving was a curse, and not luck.

I tried to move, but fuck, it felt like someone pulling bones out and rebreaking them. How the fuck did I survive that fucking accident?

“Shh, try not to move, just rest. You’re in a really bad way. I really think I should get you to a hospital,” an angel’s voice said, and I gasped, trying to shake my head.

“No… please…” Even croaking out two words hurt like fuck. How the hell could two words hurt like this? I almost felt like I was trapped in a broken body, with barely any way of communicating, outside of blinking my one working eye, and hissing out broken words.

“I still don’t know your name, but I’m worried that I don’t have the skills to help you. I want to at least call a doctor friend of mine, can I do that?” Again I tried shaking my head, but it was agony, and that pain made me pass out again.

I woke now and then, but clearly my body wanted to sleep, maybe to heal, or maybe just to remind me that this was worse than death. I should have died, because there was nothing left for me. No club, no family, no brothers, no woman, nothing . Sure, I found out I had a half sister, but she hated me. Jesus, I came after her like a fucking monster. What if I’d killed her, my own fucking flesh and blood? How did I never know about her?

“He’s awake again.”

“I really think he’s best kept sleeping while his body heals,” a new voice said, a man’s voice, and I didn’t even have the energy, or ability, to react to this stranger in my midst. His voice wasn’t familiar at least, so he probably had no reason to kill me, but why they hadn’t called the police or an ambulance, I had no idea.

“Is that safe? You won’t be around to help me out with him, and he’ll need care I don’t know how to perform.” What the hell was she talking about? The weird thing was this, I hadn’t really seen her face. I had heard her voice, and felt her gentle touch, when she tried patching me up, and soothing me, but I had no idea who she was. Young, old, black, white, she could be anyone. I could just about see out of one eye, but she’d stayed out of sight, and I figured it didn’t matter, because I wasn’t going to make it anyway.

Lissa. I’d dreamed of Lissa, and as weird as it sounded, I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to know her better, and that thought had come from this dream, where we were kids growing up together, playing outside, hanging out at the park… a childhood I’d certainly never had. Growing up as the kid of a biker club president isn’t the norm, but I’d turned out okay. Yeah, sure. I’d only masqueraded as a club member, so I could systematically destroy the club, and kill, attack, and assault the members, and their old ladies. Sure, I grew up just fucking peachy.

“Is he in pain now?” Yes. Yes, I fucking am. Give me something, please .

“I would imagine he’s in a great amount of pain. He’s practically broken beyond repair, but his body will heal, given enough time. Now that we’ve remedied the internal injuries, he will slowly heal.”

They did what? I suddenly realised I had no idea how long I’d slept, or if it had been sleep at all. I had no control over what was happening. No opportunity to make decisions, or prevent anything. They could literally do anything they wanted to me, because I was as fucking vulnerable as a baby right now. There was no way I could fight back if they wanted to hurt me, or kill me. Hell they could harvest my fucking organs, and I’d be completely unable to stop them. Jesus, that’s literally the kind of shit I should be worried about!

“No!” I tried to yell, but it came out as a ragged grunt.

“Shh, don’t try to speak, whoever you are. Can you hear how sore his throat sounds? Is the pain relief not helping with that?” I groaned, and tried to tell her my road name, which was easier than my real name, and probably safer, or maybe that was even dumber. I got as far as Mic, which she took to mean Mike, so apparently I was Mike now.

“Mike? Okay, that’s progress, why don’t you just rest, while I find out what I need to do, to look after you.”

I couldn’t speak again so I tried nodding, which was no less painful than any other movement. Their voices dropped low, but I could just about hear them. At least my ears weren’t broken.

“How do you know him again? You didn’t know his name?”

The woman, my saviour, my angel , made a huffy sound.

“Is that any of your business? You offered to help me, so help.”

The guy chuckled, and that sound made the hairs stand on the back of my neck, so at least some part of me could still stand. There was something wrong about that chuckle, and I should know what bad people sounded like, right?

“Nothing comes for free. You know what I want.” What the fuck?

“Fine. Not here though, and not right now. Show me what I need to do to help him, and what to give him for the pain.”

“Why are you helping him again?”

“Still none of your business.”

The man laughed again. “Very well, but if you want my ongoing help, my price will go up. Sure you wanna go all in for him? You saw what I saw. Fucker’s been juicing, and those testosterone levels are off the charts.”

Silence followed, and I tried to track their movements with my one good eye, but not being able to move left me really fucking useless. It wasn’t a feeling I was used to. I had been strong. I’d been fucking dangerous, and now I was weak as a kitten, broken, and cast out, and wishing once more that I’d died when that van went over. Why the fuck did I wimp out at the last second, and try jumping out?

They left the room, and once more I was alone with my thoughts, and, when I fell asleep, my nightmares.

“D o it, Torch, burn the fucker,” Reacher demanded, and my closest friend stepped forward with a brutal look on his face. He lifted the blowtorch, and brandished it threateningly at me.

“You deserve this, you twisted shithead. You fucked with our women, and now you burn for it.”

The first lick of the flames tore agonised screams from me, and that was only the beginning.

“Y ou’re awake again? It’s like you’re fighting whatever we’re giving you. You need to rest, Mike, that’s how you’ll heal,” my saviour whispered, a cool hand sliding over my cheek soothingly. How had I come to deserve an angel to heal me, when I’d done such despicable things? I deserved the horrors I was living in my nightmares, but instead I’d been the coward my father had always declared me to be.