Chapter 30 #3
He steps away from me briefly and repositions one of the tripods.
The faint beep of the camera powering on is barely audible through his ragged breathing.
When he flips the display screen open, the soft glow illuminates his angry, grimacing features.
He makes a few height adjustments, and once satisfied with the angle of the shot, he twists the screen around to face me.
“ There. Now we can all enjoy the show,” he sneers, moving beyond my line of sight. I watch his shadowed form in the display screen as he pulls a leather mask from a trunk against the wall behind me and slips it over his head, completely obscuring his identity before returning to my side.
His fingers tug roughly at the strings of my mask, and a surge of panic floods my system…
No! No, please… I don’t want anyone to see my face through this! The mask is all I have left!
The scrap of soft leather falls to the floor, and I stare at it as tears pool and sting my eyes.
Whatever he’s about to do to me is not only going to be unpleasant.
It’s going to involve a level of humiliation and degradation I’ve yet to suffer through.
He’s always taken precautions to conceal our identities when he films or takes photos.
Whenever my face is involved, he’s permitted me the domino mask.
Though it barely contributed anything in the way of maintaining anonymity, it was at least a psychological crutch I’d clung to in order to survive it all.
A small shred of something that separates me from the depravity I suffered in these films and photos.
The stinging bite of his crop makes my body arch against the restraints of its own volition.
“You think covering yourself with little scars is going to turn me off? Think again! Now, let’s see how many strikes it takes to make you bleed, and I’ll add a few of my own to your collection!
” He reaches forward, snaring my hair in his fist, and wrenches my head back.
Dark laughter echoes off the cinderblock walls all around me.
“Look up and cry for the camera, pretty one! Let them hear your lovely screams! Once I’ve beaten you back into submission, we’ll have a little fun with the open-mouth gag I got especially for you! ”
The whoosh of the crop cuts through the air before it bites me again… and again…and again…
“ D amien…” a soft voice calls to me through the pain. I barely hear it over his maniacal laughter…through the cries I can no longer fight back… “Damien… Damien, can you hear me?”
Mom? Mom! Mom, I’m down here! Help me! Mom!
“Damien…”
Help me! Please! I’m going to break… Mom! Don’t let me break!
“Damien… I need you to wake up, please, please wake up!”
Wake up? Wake…up…
I t’s bright… I’m no longer in a dungeon…
Lukewarm water is crashing down against my chest…
I’m sitting against the wall in a shower stall…
watching bloody streams run like swirling rivers down the drain a few inches from my feet…
There’s blood all over my body…all over my legs, my torso…
my arms and hands… There’s blood smeared all over the fiberglass walls… Bloody handprints…streaks…
Someone is rubbing my arms with a rough cloth…
“Damien… I need you to listen to me, little bro… Can you hear me? Damien?”
Dom?
I hear my brother’s voice…but I can’t seem to look away from the bloody rivulets winding down the drain…
“I did this, Damien… Do you hear me? If the cops ask you anything, you tell them I did this!”
He’s so adamant…but, no… No, he didn’t.
Mom did this… Mom knew… She let them, Dom… She let them hurt us… She didn’t choose us…
“Promise me, Damien. Promise me! I love you so much, I’m so fucking sorry, Damien… You tell them I did it…please… I’m your big brother and you have to do what I tell you to do...”
Dominick is crying… I don’t want him to cry…
“Promise me, little bro…”
Okay, Dom… Okay…
T his ill-fitting uniform itches…
“You’re going to live with the other boys at Saint Josephs,” the foster care lady says…
Why? Where’s my mother?
“Well, I’m sorry, dear, but…she just can’t take care of you right now… The nice people at Saint Joseph’s will, though…”
We’re all orphans…but nobody likes me here…
“ Your mother didn’t want you!” they laugh and push me down…down in the dirt... “Demon boy! Demon boy! The Devil owns your soul!”
A sharp rock pierced a deep hole in my palm… More blood… What did I ever do to them?
I stand as they continue to sing-song and mock me…
“Demon boy! Demon boy! The Devil owns your soul!”
I raise my loosely closed fist to my mouth and blow hard through it, spraying the blood from my wound in one of their horrified faces. They scream and run away…
I’ll be disciplined for defending myself…
Nothing is fair…
Mom… Why didn’t you want me?
Where are you, Mom?
Mom?
“ W hat do you even see in The Omen anyway?” he asks her…
The chains rattle and constrict around my throat…tighter and tighter…
They mean to kill me…
She didn’t choose me either, Mom…
“ P lease, Damien… Wake up!”
My eyes snap open, and I’m greeted by screaming pain as I jackknife, simultaneously reaching for the gun that should have been at my side but isn’t. Fuck!
“D-Damien?”
Vanna?
Her shaky voice pulls my attention to her seated form beside me.
Even in the dimly lit room, I see her eyes are wide with concern.
The events that led to this moment come rushing back to me.
I am only able to recall bits and pieces, but I know I’m in the Saviors MC clubhouse, in a spare room, recuperating from getting my ass jumped.
“You…you were having a nightmare… I couldn’t wake you up,” she practically whispers, as if afraid I’d fault her for some inexplicable reason. “Are you alright? Do you want to…talk about it?”
“No…” I watch her delicate throat swallow as I lay my aching body back down against the bed. “No… I… I don’t remember, anyway,” I lie.
“Alright… Well…can I get you anything?” she offers, the slight wince in her expression a clear indication of how uncomfortable she feels in my presence now.
What the fuck did she witness? What the fuck did she hear ? It must have been something for her to realize I was trapped in a nightmare. Fortunately, as the minutes tick by between us in silence, whatever I had dreamed really is rapidly fading into obscurity.
“I’m fine,” I manage to croak out, though as I do so, I realize how dry and scratchy my throat feels. “On second thought, might I trouble you for a drink?”
She leans forward to grab something from the nightstand and produces a bottled water.
“I didn’t think the drugs would keep you under for so long.
” She twists the cap off, then hands it to me.
I take a few eager swigs. When I pass it back to her, I realize there’s an IV in my hand.
“We’re waiting for the vet to come remove that for you.
The pain medicine has probably run its course, but there are painkillers in pill form if you need them, too. ”
“Vet?”
She practically winces again. “Yes… I’m afraid we don’t have any human doctor connections.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Since last night…and most of today… I’ve been looking after you.” She swallows nervously again. “Well, Cherry and me, mostly…and Viking, overnight.” She twists the cap back on. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Axel didn’t?”
A frustrated little sigh escapes her as she places the bottle back on the nightstand. “It’s club business. I suppose I shouldn’t be asking you about it at all. Never mind… I just remember the last thing you told me before you left the party was that you were going on a date.”
Fuck… I left the Twisted Throttle, allowing her to believe her own assumption that there was another woman in my life.
I try to shake my head, instantly regretting the painful motion.
“No,” I flinch from the acute ache in my neck and the way my head pounds harder.
“I didn’t leave to meet with a woman, Vanna… That was your assumption.”
Her brows slightly furrow, but she doesn’t seem annoyed, only curious. Perhaps invested… One can hope…
“I went to meet a man with information pertaining to the organization whose destruction I’ve been assisting your husband and the Jokers with,” I reply, all too happy to undermine Keegan, especially to his wife.
Sure, spousal testimonial privilege is a thing, but he still wouldn’t break one of the club’s golden rules.
Not with any specific details anyway. She sits back in the chair, conflict further knitting her brows.
I won’t make her ask. “We were found out. They brought us to another location. He was killed. I got my ass beat.”
“Nearly to death,” she practically whispers, evidently distraught. Her concern eases something deep within me, but she’s clearly distressed. “ Somebody got killed?”
Should I tell her it was my doing?
Worry further eclipses her lovely features, and it suddenly occurs to me, Keegan’s aversion to relaying pertinent details to her goes beyond abiding by one of the golden rules of MC life. Keegan wouldn’t burden her fragile soul.. . But…is this how she wants it to be?
“Are we cohorts now?” I tease, attempting to alleviate the situation for her. “Shall I be your inside track to all things MC?”
It barely takes her a second to reply with a firm little, “No.”
“Come now, you know you have but to ask anything of me, and all within my power to grant shall be yours.”
She tilts her head. “Is that so?”
It hurts to smile, but I do so anyway.
“You’re slick, but I saw that one coming a mile away.” She smiles back at me, though something about her expression seems forced.
“One what?”