“Ah, drink up, babes, it’s a party after all,” he says pushing the cup to my lips, before they all push the rim of their cups to mine.
“Cheers,” they all say in unison as my drink is pushed down past my lips and into my body. It isn't beer. It definitely isn't whiskey. It's rum. Yuck, I hate rum. I cough and wipe my lips with the back of my hand.
I’m not sure how long after that drink, I find myself stumbling towards the stairs where I know the rooms are, I need to lay down and fast. Big arms catch me just as my foot slips on a step leading up to the bedrooms. “Whoa, you alright?” the guy who gave me the rum surveys me.
“Yeah,” I answer my eyebrows drawing together in confusion. I raise my hand to my head, the pounding of the music and my heart beating together in unison only adding to my panic. My anxiety is in hyperdrive as my mind begins to high-jack and run rapid.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper to him, as he directs me up the stairs. We pass blurry couples making out against the wall and scattered little groups of guys laughing and talking as well. Also, along the long, dim hallway there are women bent over the rails dressed in only panties and a bra, their eyes melting into their faces as their moans licked against my skin. “Wow, man, I’m confused.” I manage to get out through my lips.
“Confused about what?” he ask, his grip tightening around my arm.
“I didn’t drink much, and my legs are beginning to feel numb and my lips… why are my lips going numb? What is happening?” I question as he pushes open one of the bedroom doors, guiding me into the darkness before the door clicks shut, breaking the silence. I swallow. “Why’s it so dark in here?”
“Shhhh,” he murmurs from behind me, the deep smell of rum prominent on his breath that fell over my shoulder as his fingers trace over my bare shoulder and up my neck, my body trembling at the touch.With my tired eyes now struggling to stay open, I start to murmur softly, not recognizing where I am or what is happening. My legs begin to wobble before they give away. Hands wrap around my shoulder blades, keeping me on my feet and backing my body up against the foot of the bed. Strong hands shove me back until I fall flat against the mattress.
“No.” I wept. “Please, what’s going on?” Every movement sent tremors throughout my body. With my hair sprawled out everywhere, the bed dips beside me and a low laugh echoes around the room.
“Time to play, newbie,” a foreign voice snicker from the other side of the room before the darkness that surrounds me is gone with the flick of a switch. My panic begins to intensify as my lids start to close. I look around to see the other three men there, all leaning against walls, drinking their drinks and smirking at me. The man who led me here crawls over my body, his hand gripping around my bare upper thigh, his fingertips burning my skin as he drags me down toward him.
“No!”With my tired eyes now struggling to stay open, I start to murmur softly, not recognizing where I am or what is happening. My legs begin to wobble before they give away.
Before I can protest, they shut again, overpowered by sleepiness and sedation. No! I think to myself. Stay awake, you need to stay—st—stay—wake. My thoughts shut off again.
I feel hands pawing my body, with laughter ringing out as their sick voices comment on my body, I hear gasps as they uncover the scars on my body. “Well, what do we have here, boys? Looks like someone likes to play with knives,” The man that gave me the drink speaks.
“Maybe we should relive a little knife play with the newbie, brother.”Another deep voice says just above me. His breath tastes of stale beer and cigarettes, making my stomach heave as I try to move my body to move my head from him. His hot tongue licks down the side of my face, moving to my neck and collar bone. His hot fingers rip open my shirt, the fabric making a shredding sound as he hisses through his teeth. “You taste as good as you look,” he murmurs into my skin. As his harsh fingers slip down inside my bra, groping my nipple and breast hard, his mouth found mine. I fight as much as my heavilysedated state possibly can. My body screams at the intrusion as my mind fights to stay present, to wake up and fight. You have done it before, Jade, now do it again.
I feel the room shift. It's like a bomb has gone off and fire whips through the small space. The weight on me is gone. The sick tasting tongue has left my mouth and the harsh hands on my body are no longer causing pain. Cool air whips around me. I feel exposed and on show. My mind screams at my body to twist and turn into the fetal position to protect itself, cover its scars and try to blend into the surroundings. Become invisible again, like always a loner so no one ever gets to see the true Jade. The broken, scarred and unbeautiful jade that men like these made me into.
Yelling and screaming meet sharp cracks and thuds. I try so hard to keep my eyes open, to focus on the voice screaming out my name. I know this voice. This voice is safe. He’s the anchor inside the chaos, but my body is so heavy I can’t stay out of the darkness for long before it pulls me back down and into it.
Chapter Twenty
Jade
My head moves from side to side, trying to focus on what the fuck is going on. I feel so heavy, then I see someone sitting in the corner, the light coming from under the door showing his shoes where the rest of him was hidden in the shadows.
My heart lurches. “Ah, are you supposed to be trying to hide? Because I can see you,” I say, feeling uneasy and aware of how I’m caged in here with a complete stranger. Another complete stranger as my mind began to replay the memories or pure and utter torment, I had been through what felt like only minutes ago.
The foot moves, the man rising to his feet. When his body comes toward me, I swallow roughly and pull myself up towards the head of the bed. My body feels heavy, my head is pounding, my fight or flight response is sluggish. I can see the blaze of a bonfire below the window; my mind recalled back to where I am. The club house of the Reapers Reign. I have been attacked in the home of 81 and his brothers, by his brothers. I look down at my body, knees pulled tight into my chest arms locked around them. I'm wearing a Reapers Reign cotton shirt and a pair of grey trackpants.
Thinking about what happened to me tonight, as I push through the dark memory bank, it interlaces through memories from all those years ago. Too many memories and old feelings start to resurface - the ones that I keep locked in a box inside my head, silently hoping that that box remains locked and no one discovers the key. But as I look into the eyes of 81, I know damn well he has questions, and he wants to know why my skin is so scarred.
The bed dips with his weight as my skin quivers with a cold chill.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” 81’s voice spoke soft, too soft for a man who looks like he benches 200kgs.
“Mmmmhmmm,” is all my sore throat will allow me to get out. I unlink one hand from around my knees and rub at the pain. 81 passes me a cup. A red cup my body tenses as my body screams not to take shit from any man ever again, especially from this club house. 81 notices my unease, he notices it all. Always watching. Where was he when the men, his brothers, took me into the dark and abused me?
“It’s safe. There is nothing in it. See.” He presses the rim of the cup to his lips taking a gulp of the liquid and swallowing. I watch him for what feels like forever, his outstretched hand holding the cup toward me. My handshakes as I slowly move it through the empty space between us toward the cup. I raise the rim of the cup to my mouth, swallowing the clear liquid and literally swallowing past the burning sensation it had set alight in my throat.
“Wow.” I cough out, wiping the back of my hand over my lips. “What the hell, man?” 81 looks at me and shrugs his shoulders. Handing the cup back to him, I lay back down on the bed. I feel safe with him.
I watch him as he peers at me though eyes that swim with tears, it strikes me that his eyes are the same color as the ocean on a stormy day, green with tinges of blue, grey and silver mingled though, with hues of the forest, surrounded with dark moss. It's the kind of earthy green that revives the grass after a cruel, unforgiving winter. Interwoven shades hiding the chaotic nature behind them. Never before have eyes held such danger and beauty all at once. He's a wildfire: reckless, untamed, yet undeniably captivating and beautiful.
Relief is my first emotion, but it's soon poisoned by a creeping, twisting feeling of fear for he has seen them, seen me, he will have seen the scars.
“You know I can read your thoughts, right?” he spoke to me lighting a cigarette. The smell has me rolling to the edge of the bed and spewing all over the floor, as memories flooded through me of what the man with beer on his lips and cigarette smoke did to me.
