Chapter Twenty-Two
Kicking and screaming, I try to fight my way free from the two men holding my arms and dragging me into the old walk-in freezer. It’s no use—they outweigh me by at least a hundred pounds each. I have no doubt Deuce ordered this before he announced he was leaving town yesterday.
One holds my arms behind my back, stretching the muscles almost to the point of snapping. “You ready to talk?” the other asks as he gets the chains in position.
“Talk about what?” I feign ignorance.
His big belly laugh rips through the small space. “You think we wouldn’t find out who you were? Deuce put a tail on you. Saw where you were going at night and followed that car back to Wichita a few times. You with that club down there—the Satan’s Sinners.”
Fuck! I never once noticed a tail on me going back to Montera—I followed all of the rules.
I keep my mouth shut.
My wrists are bound to the chains. I try flailing around hoping I can break free. The more I move, the tighter they become. “It’s no use—you ain’t getting out. One more chance to talk.” The prick smiles.
I keep my mouth shut.
My clothes are cut and ripped from my body, leaving me bare for them to do as they please. A thick brown leather strap is brought in by a third member. He hands it over and the first hard lick cuts across the back of my thighs with enough force that I jerk forward and hiss out from the pain.
Two…Three…Four…Five…
“You ready to talk, or you want more?” They can do what they want, I’m dead either way.
I keep my mouth shut.
“Guess you want more.”
Six…Seven…Eight…Nine…Ten…
“Let me have a go,” the second man says cheerfully.
Punch after punch reigns across my face; I feel the swelling as his fists connect with my eyes, cheeks, chin, and lips. The taste of copper fills my mouth and my head lolls to the side.
The lashings begin again, biting into the flesh of my body.
“Hey, Kid, you gonna wake up today?” I hear the voice and I know that voice. Gunner. He always called me ‘Kid.’
I can’t wake up. I can’t pull my mind away. I’m not sleeping, though; I see the white of the ceiling and I know I’m not in the walk-in freezer anymore, but I can’t move, I can’t do anything, I’m stuck.
Twenty-two hits across my backside and I’m asked once again. “You ready to talk?”
I can’t see his smug face anymore. My eyes have swollen completely shut, my lips burn from the cuts, and my flesh stings from the open wounds. Blood runs down my body and coats my face. I remain quiet. My beading sweat drips in the cuts and lashings. I don’t know how much more I can take.
I grit my teeth as a scalding pain causes my body to shake uncontrollably. The stench of burning hair and skin fills the space as my flesh is singed.
He moves to my front and the first cut of the leather sears into my skin. I scream out no longer able to hold it in. Laughter surrounds me.
“You should see Chatty; she’s gettin’ so big. She’s only a couple months away from having her. I wish you could wake up and see her. You gotta wake up, Kid, you gotta see my little girl when she gets here.” It’s Gunner again; I recognize his voice. He comes to talk to me a lot; I always hear him, but I can’t respond.
I wish I could. But I can’t—I don’t know how to break free.
Ten… I make it to the number ten before their slimy voices start to fade in and out.
Fifteen… I make it to fifteen before I lose consciousness.
“How’s he doin’ today?”
“He’s moving more. I think he’s coming out of it.”
Slowly turning my head towards the voices, I feel a hand on my body. Lightning-fast I crawl up the bed, tucking my legs up to my head, and I start rocking.
“Tink, it’s okay, you’re safe.” A hand lands on my shoulder.
I roar out in agony, “Don’t touch me!” Feeling something ripping at my skin, I look down and see the tubes. I grip them tightly extracting them from inside me and throw them across the room.
“Hey, Kid.”
Hearing his voice, I look to the left of me. Tilting my head to the side, my eyes narrow and my teeth are bared, like a wild animal. He doesn’t look like Gunner. His hair is longer, he has a beard. My eyes scan his features. He sits there with his hands out in front of him.
“It’s okay; you’re safe here. You’re back at the compound.” He’s in a wheelchair.
His voice, Gunner’s voice. “Gunner.” My voice is raspy from nonuse.
“Yeah. It’s me, Kid.” He reaches out slowly. “I gotta clean you—up you made yourself bleed by pullin’ them tubes out.” Looking down, I see the trickle of blood on my arm and stomach. I slowly nod.
“Doc, hand me the shit to get him cleaned up.” They move in slow motion.
Gunner takes the cloth and alcohol, then cleans up my seeping blood. I watch his every move without a word.
“I gotta ask you somethin’, Kid.” Gunner looks at me like he’s sad; he doesn’t really want to ask. “Did you talk? Is that how Deuce and The Four Kings found out?”
I shake my head.
“How’d they find out?”
“I had a follow. They followed you back here.” My eyes connect with his.
“Okay, Kid. You need some water and food.”
“I’ll get him some water, but the food needs to start slow,” Doc informs us, then leaves the room.
“You good?” Gunner questions when it’s just the two of us.
I shake my head and look down, noticing all of the scars. Tears threaten to break free.
I’m changed—I feel it inside of me and I will never be the same or okay again.