Chapter 1
You don’t know me, you only know what I allow you to know. -Curiano.com
Kat
Smoke fills the clubhouse. The mixture of cigarette, cigars and vape smoke floats through every room. Hardly any door is ever shut anymore. Privacy is a thing of the past. The men here prefer to be able to see everything, especially if they’re looking to track their bitches down. In most cases, that’s just it.
“Kitty! Where have you scurried of to?” I hear his voice before I see him. Like the shadow of death, he is constantly surrounding me. In a sense, maybe that’s what he is. The scars on my body prove just that, don’t they?
Rage hasn’t given me every scar on my body. I am guilty for causing most of them. Slicing my skin is a way for me to cope with what I am, how I’m treated, and what I’ve become. Once, a long time ago, I wasn’t even a fraction of the fragile girl I am today. I may have aged, and years may have passed – but oh, how I was once strong and resilient. Now, I am nothing but silent and obeying.
If I cared enough, I’d laugh. Who knows, maybe I’d even hate the girl I am. Now, though. I can’t even give a damn.
I give zero fucks.
I turn around slowly and face him, keeping my face as stoic as possible. After doing this for so long, I’ve learned quite a bit. If you think I’m maintaining my silence as a way to survive, you’re dead fucking wrong. I’m being quiet for one reason, because I don’t give a damn. My life is worthless. I am nothing more than an object to him, a means to a grueling end. I just wonder when that will happen. Will he even let me die in peace, or will he fight to bring me back just to make me suffer even more? I ask the question, and yet I already know the answer.
There is nothing merciful about Rage. The only way I will be able to meet my maker is to plan accordingly. I will find a time where I’ll be alone, it doesn’t happen too often, but immediately I think of tomorrow night. He’s already told me how my presence isn’t welcome in his meeting. In most cases, he wants me kneeling next to him with my collar around my neck. He holds the leash and shows everyone his perfect Kitty.
I don’t know how I’ll do it just yet, but the fact that everyone will be there with him gives me enough confidence to do it. No one will be watching, and not a damn person will try to save me. That I can guarantee. Everyone in this club is the same.
Calling them monsters would be a compliment. Savage wouldn’t even cut it. I suppose there is no true word on which I can call the members of the Demons of Hell MC.
“Come here, Kitty, Kitty.” I listen to Rage’s demand, walking over to him like the obedient pet that I am.
He’s aged so much in the years I’ve been here. His hair turning from grey to an ice snow white, wrinkles appearing all over his face, almost as if every day there is a new line that I haven’t noticed before.
Emotionless. Unbothered. I act like a void, because at the end of the day, I am only a shell of the person that I used to be.
He taps on my cheek, and I open up, all the while knowing he’s bound to put some drug in my mouth. If anything can help me feel nothing, I will gladly accept the peace that it gives me. He sets the small circular pill on my tongue. I close my mouth, swallow, and wait for it to take effect.
The most ironic part about this is that Rage knows I will do anything he asks. There will absolutely be no arguments that pass through my lips, no fighting, not even an eyeroll or a huff.
No matter how long I’ve been here, I have never been able to get into his head. To figure out just how his mind works.
“Kitten.” I glance over and see Trigger, who greets me softly, eyes lingering for a moment too long. Rage watches his gaze, and just like that Trigger begins speaking to Rage about club politics, all while not wavering his eyes from my body. What no one should dare forget is this, I belong to Rage. I am forever his, for as long as he chooses to keep me. No one touches me, fucks me, or dares to even look at me. If they do; they’ll live to regret it for the rest of their days. It looks like Trigger didn’t catch the memo, or maybe he just doesn’t care. Regardless, it will get him killed.
I tune out almost everything, whatever Rage gave me quickly takes effect. Suddenly, I’m so much more relaxed than I’ve been in such a long time. He’s given me a lot of drugs, but this has to be one of my favorites. “We’ve had a lot of interest in the community for new prospects. Are we opening the flood gates and letting a few boys in?”
I can smell the hookah right next to the bar, the hints of chocolate and mint floating through the air. You would think the mixture of the different types of smoke would stink, but they don’t. They mold together like a fine chocolate, layer after layer, offering something more interesting than the next. Then again, maybe that’s the drugs talking. It’s right here in this moment that I know what Rage gave me, X, ecstasy. He has me testing the product. Bastard.
I glance around the room, trying to figure out who the courier is. Who gave him this shit…? I know for a fact he isn’t buying from the cartel. He and Ramirez have been fighting for ages apparently, sworn enemies of each other. I act like I don’t hear diddly squat, but I do. I listen, because information will help me in so many ways. If I was smarter, I might use information to help me get out of here. Hell, maybe I’d have used my body at this point with one of the boys, and we could have plotted my escape. I’m not some bitch from a fairytale, though. There is no escape.
There is only one thing.
Death.
I plan on meeting the Grim Reaper as soon as I can, after all, being a Reaper is in my blood.