Prologue #2
Poe taught me how to hold a shotgun at the age of five behind the junkyard the club owns.
Zagan’s been beating the boys away from the doorstep since my body started blooming.
Nix, just last week was showing me how to tune up an old mustang in the garage.
Whiskey joked around and showed me how to slow dance in a room full of bikers when I used to roam the club at night because I couldn’t sleep with the loud music playing.
The list could go on and on of members who were always there for me growing up but right down to it…
I’m nothing but their President's daughter, and that makes me hot off the press for picking with just one nod from their big boss. My dad’s closest crew, guys I’ve known my whole life, roughly grab my legs to spread them open.
Hands tear at my clothing as I kick, buck, shout, anything to get away, but it’s useless as fingers tighten to hold me still.
It doesn’t do me any good as criminal eyes stare down at my exposed body with uncontrollable lust until I look away.
My gaze catches on the ceiling, seeing the crooked nail, the imperfection, and for the next few hours, grunts sound in my ears, and pounds of my flesh is taken from.
My mind leaves to another place that isn’t here, somewhere anywhere else but here.
My screams never fade, they still echo in my head along with my sore throat that feels raw.
A sudden hit to my lip has me reeling back with the force, my face swinging to the side as the blow was delivered.
Blood pools on that single split but I can’t focus enough on why it doesn’t seem to hurt.
My body is moving without me controlling the movements, back and forth my back scrapes across the cold cement.
I know one of the club members is grunting over my body, as he pushes inside me, I don’t bother to look.
It’s as if I’m not really here, even though I can feel whoever is inside me with each dry thrust causing me unbearable pain.
That hurts, having someone shove their way inside of your body when it’s dry.
That’s when my own haunted screams reach me, breaking past the barrier I tried building around myself until it’s over.
Being tossed around like a rag doll, touching me in places I’ve never thought of being touched with my innocence that is no more.
Payne was right, this is a man’s world and I’m feeling the effects of it.
Someone tosses me onto my stomach, my body limp, and not really mine anymore at this point.
I wish I could keep staring at that nail, to see something that will keep me partially sane.
A hot breath bears down on my ear just as something small, sharp, and cold is placed on my back.
My focus sharpens to that one object while my whole body tenses up after what feels like hours of having loose limbs.
“You're going to feel this, remember this, and you can’t escape me after this. Tell me, Tillie, have you ever dreamed of your ass getting fucked?” Cruz chuckles just as he starts carving something into my shoulder blade.
My screams aren’t screams anymore, they’re howling prayers for the devil to come already and take my battered soul away.
After some point he stops carving my skin, breathing heavily on top of me and giggling like a schoolgirl when the rest of the men clap in loud applause at his artwork.
Every breath is like my last but it stops altogether when something hard touches between the line of my butt cheeks, somewhere a girl my age considers forbidden.
Searing, unbelievable pain is all I can feel after that.
A small, quiet voice reaches me and it makes me jolt as I realize it’s me repeating the same thing over and over out loud.
“Please, God, let it end. Just let it end.”
I must have blacked out at some point or I could have been wide awake the whole time but not really seeing anything because once again I’m staring up at that crooked nail.
The sound of the basement door slamming shut with their echoing laughs makes my cold, stiff body start to shake as reality comes back like a splash of cold water.
I wish it didn’t. My mind is broken, beyond repair, and any innocence I possessed is long gone.
Laying here in the dark shivering, my body feels like it’s made of stone and lead.
Bleeding from wounds that have long healed over, buried so deep inside my soul that even I don’t want to look but they seem to keep deeply cutting open.
Filthy, dirty, never clean, keep repeating through my head as the semen between my thighs and every exposed part of my body starts to dry.
I wish I could scrub it away with bleach, and as much as I try, tears can’t form in my eyes.
I’m all cried out and everything is numb inside until it comes crashing down as I try to sit up with a groan.
I catch myself on my palms, my arms trembling and everything is blurry as if looking through a haze of smoke.
My body jolts with a cry escaping my mouth when a hand lands on my shoulder but the weak, pathetic cry cuts off when I notice the sweetbutt crouched in front of me, eyes filled with rage and pity.
Doris. She is like the mother hen of sweetbutts for the club, been around for years, and yet never once tried to leave.
Maybe she has no place else to go like me.
“I have you, Tillie, I’m going to help you up and we’re going to take one step at a time.
When we walk out that door, don’t you dare look down, and chin up no matter what happens.
Don’t give them that fear and each painful step will give you strength.
” She puts her arm around my waist and helps me towards the door, not once grimacing as I cry out with each shuffle of my feet.
I can’t go through that door, monsters wait for me in leather vests.
Blaring music comes from the other side of that steel door, sweetbutts getting dicks wet even with my smear of blood still coating club members' dicks, like it’s a normal Saturday night.
But it’s not a regular day for me, it’s the day I lost one part of me I thought I would be able to give away when I was ready.
Ripped away.
Torn.
Just gone.
Bikers wait for me to do a walk of shame I have no control over with excited breaths that will just grow deeper as they take in their masterpiece of work.
“One day you’ll get out of this hell hole.
I’m going to help you soar so high that the only thing these bastards will see is the faint glint of your wings just as they kiss the sun.
It’s so close, I just need you to wait a little bit longer.
I’m going to teach you what it takes to bring a man to his knees and have him crawling.
Those who are patient, waiting to receive the sweetest revenge, are the ones who send the hounds from the depths of hell at their heels and see the world burning around you as a smile blooms on your face,” Doris says in a hard voice, making me want to believe that not everything is shadowed in black and one day I'll see more than what is in front of me now.
She opens the door to the stairs, a sealed tight promise clear in every word, but the thing about promises is that they don’t last forever.
The question is… do I stand tall or fall to my knees until I have nothing left to give anymore?