Biker's Virgin

The room they had kept me in was a tiny, ugly space with a large bed that took up half the room. They had handcuffed me to the headboard, so I could only really stretch within the confines of the bed. My hands ached, but I knew there was no way I was going to get out of the handcuffs. It had been hours now since they’d brought me into the house.

It was most definitely a house somewhere secluded. They had me blindfolded the whole way though, so I knew nothing specific. The blindfold had only come off once I had been securely fastened to the headboard of the bed. I had screamed and shouted for a little while, but no one had paid me any attention. Every time I heard a sound, I would jump, wondering if this was the moment when Walter would walk through that door and end me.

I wasn’t exactly sure what his plan was. Was he just toying with me before he tortured me? Was he even in the house? Was he hoping to lure Zack and the Angels out here? I had no clue. He still hadn’t made an appearance, and I had to believe it was because he had a reason. Maybe it was all just a form of mental torture. Sometimes I felt my mind slip a little. I started to think of all the different ways I might die at his hands, and I realized that this was precisely what he would want.

So instead I changed my thoughts, and I started to think of all the ways I could get out of this situation. Mila, I told myself, if you survive this you have to do more with your life. You have to be stronger, you have to fight harder, and you have to be braver. You have to take risks, and most importantly you have to be honest with yourself about what you need and what you want.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself as the shy and insecure ten-year-old I had once been. The image produced a memory, and I felt myself being transported back thirteen years ago when I’d lived in a small house around the corner from a known crack den.

“Mom?” I said, peeking around the corner.

She wasn’t paying attention. She was wearing a mini skirt she had owned as a teenager. It was black and white with stripes down the sides. She had paired it with a gold halter, and she looked crazy… to me at least. She was sitting on a man’s lap. I had never seen him before, and the sight of him turned my stomach. He was tall and bearded, and I noticed he wore a lot of jewelry. He had three chains around his neck, several beaded bracelets around his wrists, and a gold ring on his left hand.

He was whispering something to her, and she was laughing as though it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. As he whispered to her, his hands kept traveling up her leg until it disappeared underneath her skirt. I froze for a moment, wondering if I should announce my presence or slink back into my room.

My main problem was that I was hungry. I had been so absorbed with my school science project, and I was so determined to do a good job on it, that I’d spent hours working on it, and I’d forgotten to make some noodles for dinner. Mom never did the cooking, so I had to resort to quick and easy meals for lunch and dinner.

If I hadn’t been so hungry, I would have turned around and walked away back to my room, but my stomach growled uncomfortably, and I knew I needed something to satiate the ache in my belly.

“Mom?” I said again.

This time the man heard me, and he pulled away from Mom’s neck with a start. His hand slipped out of her skirt, and I

was thankful for that.

“Mila,” Mom said, and her tone was clear in an instant. She hated being interrupted. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“Who’s this?” the man asked.

He was a huge man, and I took a step back from him, afraid to get too close. I didn’t like the way he looked at me. It was almost a leering glance, and the smile that played across his face made me forget my hunger for a moment.

“I… uh… this is my daughter,” Mom replied, after a lot of hesitation. I wondered if that meant she was embarrassed by me.

“You didn’t tell me you had a kid.”

“Well, you didn’t ask.”

He smiled at her and then bit her ear. “I was only interested in one thing when I set eyes on you.”

Mom giggled like a schoolgirl, and I felt my face react to the sound, but I forced my expression back blankness.

“Oh you,” she said, hitting him gently on the chest. “You’re so bad.”

“I hope you are too.”

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Oh, I think you’re a wildcat.”

“Smart boy,” she said.

She turned her attention back to me reluctantly. “Why are you here?” she asked sternly.

“I was hungry,” I said.

“Hungry?” she repeated, as though the very idea shocked her. “It’s past twelve.”

“I was up working on my science project.”