When I'm With You (Little Hollow Series, #2)(26)
I’m dragged out the rest of the way and I fall with a thud onto the gravel covered floor, feeling the bite as it digs into my legs and arms. I cry out as he stomps his boot into the back of my kneecap and twists it.
“That’s it, scream for me.”
I’m so distracted by the blinding pain that I don’t retaliate or fight him as he throws me over his shoulder and starts walking somewhere.
The throb of my knee is excruciating and I can already feel the trickle of blood moving down my leg. The first drop of many I’m suspecting. The sound of a door that needs oiling and a clang as it closes behind us is the first thing I hear.
He then takes us through another door and I’m just waiting for the smell of old beer and smoke to invade my senses, so when it doesn’t, I’m more than confused.
We’re not in the clubhouse. This isn’t good.
I’m dropped like a sack of flour on a hard, icy cold floor and I try and scoot back but my knee cries out in pain. My head is still covered by whatever they have over it so I can’t see anything, the unknown making me alert. I try to steady my breathing so I can hear anything other than my own heartbeat in my ears, pounding out a punishing rhythm. Doing this, I can now hear him pacing in front of me and I take another steadying breath.
“What no bed? I’m hurt.” The footsteps stop abruptly but he doesn’t say anything. “Let me guess, you’re going to smack me around for a few days and then you’ll kill me? That’s how it normally goes, right?”
My skin pricks with goosebumps when he starts a slow, menacing laugh as he takes a few steps toward me and bends down so I can hear him real clear when he says, “Girl, you’re gonna wish you were just getting smacked around when I’m done with you.”
I tense up as the sack over my head is lifted, automatically slamming my eyes shut. I don’t want to come face to face with him, I don’t want to be made to see him another time. Just the thought of his sweaty, scar ridden face makes me feel ill.
My throat starts to burn as bile starts rising up my throat and I retch. He laughs a deep guttural laugh that has me wanting to pass out right here.
He’s enjoying this and I just can’t help myself.“You’re laughing because you make me feel sick?” I counter back with a laugh of my own.
I’m grabbed by the chin with grotesquely large fingers and my face is yanked within an inch of his. I know this because I can feel every bit of his putrid hot breath fanning over me.
“You’ll learn to like me, sweet girl, just like your mom did.”
Anger courses through me at the mention of my mom. “Don’t you dare talk about her! She never liked you, she didn’t have a choice so she drowned out reality with liquor. You stole her life from her you-“
I falter as he deals a sickening blow to my left eye. Pain radiates through my face and my eye starts to pulse, I can already feel it starting to swell.
“Your mother, was a worthless piece of shit! She was only good for entertaining us men!” He screams.
I hear a clink that makes me open my eyes, I shut my left eye against the pain and instantly regret opening them. His face sends me into the start of another panic attack. His greasy brown shaggy hair is peppered with gray streaks the same as the scruff on his chin and his soulless eyes look almost black in this light, although I know they’re normally the color of chocolate, though they hold none of the warmth.
His thin wrinkled lips lift up at the corners and he points to the scar that runs just under his eye, to the corner of his jaw with the knife he’s just taken out from behind him.
“I’ve been waiting for over three years to get you back for this, sweet girl.”
He licks his lips and aims the knife toward my face, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest as the panic in me amps up.
“Doing this won’t make you feel any better about yourself! You’ll still be the same fugly piece of shit!” I cry, feeling more vulnerable than I’ve ever felt before.
“Do you know what we do to deserters? Hmm? What we should’ve done to you before my brother took away that decision from the club! ” He runs the knife down my cheek, hard enough for me to feel threatened, but not hard enough to pierce the skin. “Little biker princesses aren’t exempt y’know. You knew the rules.”
He pulls back and slaps me with a force that makes my head whip back. I recover from the blow and stare blankly into his eyes as I feel a black mist wash over me.
He wants a reaction out of me, so I try to calm my breathing and play it cool. “Does my daddy know where you are? If this was club business, I would’ve seen him by now.” I spit blood in his face and he pulls his arm back to hit me again. “Aahh, I see. You never were one to play it by the book, Merl. You’ve got some balls, I’ll give you that.”
He looks at me, his eyes swirling with anger. “Your daddy stopped giving a shit about you the moment you started being a little whore.”
Keep calm, Keeley, keep calm.
“You mean when you framed me because I wouldn’t put up with your piece of shit ass anymore.”
I look at him through my good eye, I’m getting to him, the look on his face is furious. I smile. “You’re nothing but a disgusting sicko who gets off on praying on women,” I lean forward, feeling braver than I probably should. “You can go fuck yourself if you think-”