Reign (The Henchmen MC 1)

But I knew that meant nothing to them. Not when they came in the middle of the night, half drunk, eyes cloudy with lust. I knew they could lie their way out of it.

“Fucking dead fish,” Deke scolded, grabbing my breast so hard tears sprang to my eyes. I looked away. Because I might not have known much about men like them. But I knew they got off on the reaction. The power they held over girls like me. The fear. If I didn't give them that, they might just go away. They might not be able to get it up. Or they might just get annoyed enough to leave me alone and go find someone else.

God. How I hated myself for thinking that. That I hoped they went to someone else. Knowing that girl had no rules around her. Knowing no one gave a shit if she screamed or died. But I wanted it so badly to not be me, that I hoped they moved on.

And when they eventually did, I rolled halfway onto my stomach, my face buried in the pillow, and I screamed. Never cried. Never let there be traces of weakness in the morning. So instead, I screamed. Until my throat was raw. Until no more sound would come out. Until I passed out again.**I bolted up on the couch, my heart slamming hard.

“Just a dream,” Reign's voice reached me, calm, reassuring. Close. My head snapped, my eyes wild, to find Reign sitting on the coffee table, looking very much like he had been there a while. “Take a breath. It was just a dream.”

“No,” I said, pushing my hair out of my face, “it wasn't.”

Reign's eyes flashed with recognition and he nodded. “I didn't know if I should wake you,” he said, sounding strained. “You were screaming and screaming but I didn't know if it would be worse to wake up to someone holding you.”

I put my feet on the floor, stuffing my shaking hands between my knees and shrugging. “I don't know,” I answered honestly. “I've never had nightmares before.”

“You want to talk about it? Shit can't stay bottled up. I know it's fresh and it smites, but you can't let it get infected. It'll eat you up.”

I don't know why. But I found my mouth opening. I found myself needing to share. Share the burden. The guilt. It was so heavy on my shoulders that I felt like I couldn't lift them.

I was free.

The rest were still there.

Still praying every night praying it would be someone else.

Instead of them.

“They used to come in at night,” I started, looking down at my feet. “I would be tied to the bed,” I said, lifting my wrists as if he needed proof. I knew he really didn't. Maybe I did. “Scare me out of sleep. And then... touch me. And...”

“And,” he prompted.

“And I would just lay there praying they would go on to someone else. That they would leave me alone. Lose interest in me and go find another girl. And when they did, I felt so bad. So guilty. So disgusted in myself that I would scream into my pillow until I couldn't scream anymore. Because that was such a horrible thing to think. I shouldn't have...”

“Hey,” he said, his big hand landing hard on my knee. “Eyes,” he said, and my gaze lifted. “You were scared. They wanted to hurt you. You wanted it to stop. You didn't do anything wrong. Okay?”

Somehow, hearing someone else say it made it feel a little more true. Though I was pretty sure there would never be a time in my life where I didn't feel that guilt, it didn't feel quite so all-consuming when I shared it.

“Okay.”

“'Kay,” he said, his hand dropping as he stood. “Food is ready. You still want to eat?”

No. I didn't.

But then my stomach twisted and groaned and I knew I was going to eat. It wouldn't do me any good to punish myself because I felt bad for being free. When they were still trapped.

So I ate.

I watched reruns.

And then I slept.SixReignI'd never heard a woman scream like that. Men, yeah. Men I had needed to teach a lesson to. Men who needed to not be of this earth anymore. Screams of pure, unfiltered fear and pain.

I heard those screams in my head before sleep at night. My own personal demons that I could never seem to shake. And hoped I wouldn't. Because if I ever got to a day where I was okay with what I had to do, then I would be a monster.

So I knew those screams.

It was so much worse hearing them from a woman. Someone who suffered at the hands of some scumbag. Someone who wasn't able to defend herself.

I set the food aside, moving toward the couch, toward her, her hair half-covering her face, her eyes closed, her body taut as a bow as she just... screamed.

I never had to sleep next to someone before so I knew jack shit about waking people up from bad dreams. So I just sat there and listened, waiting for her to wake up so I could remind her that she was okay. She was away from those things.

And then she told me she felt guilty.

The girl who endured fuck-knew what for months and she felt guilty because there were nights she didn't want to suffer anymore.

Fucking hell.

I wanted to find those sons of bitches, whoever the hell they were, and show them some vigilante justice.

But I needed to watch myself. I needed to think of my men first. Brotherhood before everything else. Most especially bitches. Especially bitches I didn't even know.

So then I fed her.

Then she slept.

And I did too for a few short hours before the sun started coming through the windows and I climbed out of bed, going through to the kitchen to put coffee on and call my brother.

“Cash,” he answered, sounding as awake as I was. Neither of us had ever been much for sleeping. Could be up all night and still be wide awake in the early morning.