Thumper (Cerberus MC)

The room is cold and dark, a classic scene from a horror movie, and it leaves me thinking back to my life choices. I left Knight Salvation to save myself from a life that was sure to be filled with things I couldn’t wrap my head around, only to end up locked in a cage with an even deadlier future. I can’t say that I’ll ever think leaving was wrong. It wasn’t, but ending up here is definitely going to be worse.

A hissing sound filters through the air, and the room grows deathly quiet, each one of us trying to figure out what’s happening. Then the warmth hits me, hot air swirling around us and heating my skin. The heat rushes over my skin, allowing the goosebumps to begin to fade, and I can admit the comfort is much more than what was afforded us the last couple of days in the back of that moving truck.

I shake my head at the comparison. I have to be losing my damn mind if I’m comparing the accommodations like one is the Motor Inn off the highway and the other is the Hilton. The warmth of this room doesn’t offer us safety from what’s to come. If anything, our comfort is much farther down the list. The guy in charge, Javier, just doesn’t want his possessions to catch pneumonia or get sick. Dead girls aren’t worth any money to him. The heat is merely protecting his investment.

“Oh God. What are they doing?” one of the other girls cries.

“What’s going on?” another girl asks. “I can’t see anything.”

I have no idea what their viewpoints are, but I know exactly what the girl beside me is referencing. The television has flickered to life, and the scene on it is much worse than any horror movie I’ve seen.

The brunette is shoved into view of the camera. The room she is in has a huge bed, one that would look almost inviting if her face wasn’t screwed up in terror as Javier approaches her. His fingers tangle in her hair, and my stomach turns sour at the sight of his naked body as he tugs her head back violently. This action forces her face away from the camera, and despite the television not having any sound, it’s clear what he’s planning to do when he uses his other hand to rip her clothes away.

“I’m going to be sick,” the girl who first noticed the television coming on mutters, and then the sound of her retching fills the room.

“Don’t watch,” I tell her as I curl into a ball and squeeze my eyes closed.

“What’s happening?”

“H-He’s raping her again. We’re all going to die.”

I shake my head, trying to erase her words. This can’t be my life. How do I escape one hellhole only to end up in another? How did I fight for months on the streets when I was still a teen, only to be abducted at twenty-four? How is this fair?

I know life isn’t fair. I’ve been dealt too many crappy hands over the years to even question it, but I never expected something like this would happen. No matter how many times we were warned against the dangers of being alone, no matter how many times I took precautions to be safe, I never imagined something like this would happen to me.

And I haven’t even faced the worst of it. That brunette woman is the one getting hurt.

I don’t know how long it lasts. The woman beside me never says another word, and the whimpers and cries eventually fade into soft sniffles.

I don’t realize I’ve drifted to sleep, exhaustion taking over despite my desperate need to stay awake, until the door to the room swings open and bangs against the wall.

I press my face to the grate in my cage once again, even though I want to cower away in fear that Angel is returning to grab someone else.

The brunette’s eyes are void of any emotion as I watch her being escorted across the room. Angel’s eyes are dead, empty pools of darkness, and I shouldn’t be surprised that he has no concern for what just happened to that woman. For all I know, he eventually joined in and hurt her as well.

We all stay quiet as her cage door is snapped closed, and I hold my breath as Angel walks back out of the room, not releasing it until the lock on the door slides back into place.

The sniffling is renewed, but no one speaks for the longest time.

“A-Are you okay?” the woman to my left asks the brunette.

She doesn’t answer.

Chapter 4

Thumper

“Not the healthiest breakfast,” Angel mutters as he enters my office without knocking.

The glass of whiskey is heavy in my hand, but I ignore him, my eyes drifting to the window instead of to the man who is supposed to be some sort of fucked-up mentor.