Vicious Punks by Madeline Fay
Tillie
Idon’t know how long I lay on the cold garage floor, staring at the small dent in the red toolbox and willing myself to cry, but nothing ever happens. I’ve shed so many tears throughout the years that now, even when I try my hardest to cry, nothing ever spills.
“I-I can’t go through that door,” I croak out, leaning heavily against Doris as she stumbles under my weight and grips the doorknob tightly to keep us both from falling, before she turns her head to look at me.
“You're not free yet, girl, but for now…you walk through that door with your head held high, no matter how much you want to look down. Don’t. I don’t care if you have to crawl your way out of here, but don’t give them this power. They took enough away from you already,” Doris grounds out through her teeth, wiping a trail of blood away from my hairline. She grasps my hand that is thrown over her shoulder into a death grip.
My breathing is shallow, my ribs protesting with each breath, and the pain between my sticky thighs, that makes my legs buckle, is a reminder of what just happened.
“I don’t know if I can survive out there. What if I fall and can never get back up? Even those who look like they are sleeping peacefully are trapped in a nightmare. Will I ever really escape my living nightmares, even if I’m far away from this place?”
Doris glances at me for what feels like a long time, until she slowly shakes her head.
“You may be in a nightmare now but that’s the thing about living a dream, you can make it anything you want. It will take some time, a lot of obstacles along the way that will be painful, but one day you won't hurt as much as you do now. It will always stay with you, but it won’t feel like you can’t breathe.” She swings open the door without waiting for me to respond and grabs my chin with her free hand, so I don't glance down as we shuffle through the sea of club members.
The memory repeats in my head, rewinding again and again as I lay there shivering. I’m breathing now, aren’t I? My chest rises up and down slowly as my pulse stops racing the more I reflect on my thoughts. Doris was right, I lived a life of hell, but I escaped to where the Demon Jokers can't reach me. I have a feeling Logan, Nicky, Dalton, and Tey are more than what they appear to be. Toxic power that makes anyone kneel at their feet with just a snap of their fingers while radiating fear and danger.
It’s something I know better than most, I’ve been around it most of my life. The only difference is the four assholes have some standards, not to kill without a reason. I’ve only been here a short while, but I watch and listen even when it seems like I’m not. I don’t think those four could ever stab each other in the back. They live by a code, even if they are major assholes who think they can force anyone to do their bidding. Being around Logan and having him pounding away inside of me like he’s going to die tomorrow, I already know that man has control issues, needs it to survive. He’d stop at nothing to protect those he cares about. That’s something I’ve never seen before. Payne would have plunged a knife through your back as you walked away. I know what Logan did tonight and why. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to stay here all night and think about my mouth stuffed with cocks without my consent, even if I liked the way they stared down at me, controlling my movements. I swear I saw affection in Tey’s eyes as he said the crazy shit that comes out of his mouth. I’ve had much worse in my life, tonight was just the cherry on top, and it’s time that I showed them that I’m not as weak as I look.
With that in mind, I heave myself into a sitting position, off the epoxy floor and wince as I finally stand on my feet. Glancing down my body, my knees are red from being forced to the ground, and my feet are bleeding. When did that happen? My brow wrinkles, trying to remember when that could have taken place. My mind goes through the whole night. The guys kidnapping me, shoving me mostly naked into the car blindfolded, and leaving me stranded in the middle of the car lot as the cops came blaring down the road. It was the glass window I had to break, the adrenaline made me feel nothing at the time. The anger I was holding onto fueled me to keep going, but now that I’m alone...it fucking hurts like a bitch. Tiny pieces of glass are stuck in my feet, digging in deeper as I start limping into the house.
Ugh, just that they keep occupying my mind, over and over again, is pissing me off. Who the fuck tattoos their cock? That had to hurt and just makes Nicky as crazy as the rest of them. That asshole, the look he gave me when he lifted his gun and I thought he was going to kill me then and there. His facial expression was completely blank, but his eyes…those emerald eyes told a different story. A thousand words can be held in one glance and even if I thought he was going to pull the trigger on me, I should have known there's more than meets the eye with Nicky. Doesn’t mean I trust him. Hell, he shoved his tattooed cock down my throat. Doesn’t matter if I got extremely wet between my legs, or that I wanted to keep sucking him, it was the way he thought he had the right to do it, as if he knew that I liked it.
Well, fuck them!
I hold my head high as I walk on quiet, sore feet through the house towards the second floor, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind. I look both ways in case one of those asses are hiding in the dark somewhere. Why does that make my heart race? Why do I feel an excited thrill creeping down my spine? Why am I like this? You’d figure I’d put a ten foot pole between me and men, but for some reason I crave to be touched by my guys, needing the passion only they seem to be able to give me. I just want to feel, to be held, and maybe one day, cherished. A girl can dream. I really need to stop thinking of them as mine, I don’t want them! Nope. I have to keep telling myself that until it sticks.
But I have to remember this is just a game to them. I’m a nobody who shouldn’t be in their house, an intruder who can’t be trusted in their eyes. My bedroom door is open when I get to it, it’s quiet and dark, two things I hate the most. I peek my head around the corner hesitantly, seeing it empty as I tippy-toe quickly towards the bathroom with a grimace as pain pulses through my feet.
I wonder where they went? Is it just Logan in the house or did he leave with the others? I’m not looking for any of them but I do like to be prepared; I wasn’t tonight. I’m still on edge wondering if the cops will be showing up at the door any moment to drag me away. My eyes burn with the need for revenge, to put them in their place. If I’m stuck here until I can figure out how to get rid of the blackmail Nicky has on me, I might as well try to drive them crazy and make them wish they never met me.
Sweet revenge will be mine
A little too loud chuckle leaves my mouth, but cuts off as I turn on the bathroom light to take in my reflection. My hair is a mess, sticking up in every angle as if I just rolled out of bed after a rough night of passionate fuckery. I can’t help snorting at that. My eyes have dark circles under them, and it's no wonder given the sun starting to peek through my white bedroom curtains. I glare at my underwear, swearing from this moment on I’ll be wearing granny panties, and a sports bra to suck in the girls. I hate how I look, my figure and face. I’ve tried over the years to hide my body in baggy clothes, but Payne demanded that I show more skin to keep his club members happy. Taking in my body, I can’t help the twisted snarl that edges on my lips. I really do take after Diana, the curvy hips and smooth tan skin that draws in the eye, no blemishes in sight. It’s what caused me all this pain to begin with. I sometimes think about taking tweezers to my face and just plucking away to leave me with scars until I’m unrecognizable. People won’t want to look me in the eye if my scars are hideous, it makes them uncomfortable. The tattoos cover most of my scars, no one hardly notices unless they are looking close enough. Does anyone ever really look long enough to see the real me? No. They don’t.
Pinching my eyes closed, I take a deep breath and slowly let it out just before I open the drawers to search for tweezers for a completely different reason. Finding some, I hop onto the counter exhausted. Grinding my teeth together, I bring my leg up to cross it over my other one to see the condition my feet are in. Shards of glass poke out of my skin, making me cringe at the thought of wearing shoes, but ignoring the pain gets easy over time.
“This is those fuckers' fault. Stupid, small dick assholes,” I mumble that lie to make myself feel better and hold my breath as I hover the tweezers over the glass hesitantly.
I’m so used to pain that this should be nothing, but I’m so frustrated. I’m sick of having open wounds and torn skin without my consent. Biting my lip, I pull the first piece out and drop the glass into the sink. It makes a clinking sound that has me flinch at the noise. I watch blood slowly go down the drain with my brows furrowed. I’m scared because the moment the sharp edges of the tweezers dug in and pulled out the tiny piece of glass… I felt relieved. Not relief because it’s no longer attached to me, but at the feeling it gave me. It hurts, makes my heart pound, and helps me focus clearly so I can pull the rest out.
What is this feeling? I only get this way when I’m racing on the street, the engine rumbling under me, or when a certain douchebag drags his cock-- That thought cuts off faster than it can fully form.
When did I suddenly start liking the pain?
I stare at my bleeding foot, setting aside the tweezers, and slowly bring my hand to the arch of my foot. Pressing down on the cut flesh, I hiss out a breath and squeeze my eyes shut at the throb it brings. My mind clears completely, like I’m waking up from a long dream, nothing else but throbbing pain to occupy my time.
“Why does it feel so good?” I whisper to myself as soon as the last piece of glass is out and tip my head back to rest against the mirror with a thud.
“It feels good because it’s something you're used to and all you know.” Logan’s voice is a deep, smooth rumble, not even startling me because he seems to keep showing up in places when I’m at my weakest.
Slowly blinking my eyes open, I release my foot and side-eye him as he leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. With a sigh, I imagine repeatedly bashing his disgustingly beautiful face into the mirror, but restrain myself. He’s stronger than me, that's for sure, but he’s never met a woman like me.
“What now? Come to gloat? I’m not going anywhere,” I sneer, turning my face away from his direction, so I don’t have to see his beautiful smirk that hides all the ugliness behind it.
All lies.
He doesn’t know this but he does make me weak all over, inside and out. My heart races whenever he’s near, my stomach flutters with damn butterflies when he’s around, and my fingers itch to trace the sharp angles of his face. Even after all he’s done to me, I can’t help but be drawn to him. It’s ridiculous. I’ve hated men for a long time, never trusting anyone to protect me. I think of our moment in the shower, glancing quickly at the glass door and away before he notices. He’s the first guy who's ever given me a glimpse of heaven, I don’t even care that he’s tainted the memory with him trying to prove a point. I already know who I am. What he doesn’t know is that I’ll always be grateful to him that he made me feel alive.
I’ll never tell him that though.
Doesn’t matter how much I wish everything was different. I’d love to have a man like him at my back, to stop anyone from hurting me. To see Tey threaten anyone who dares try to touch me with that scary ass knife of his. The protective glare Nicky gives to anyone but his friends, as if he’ll kill for them. Dalton… I want his passion, the way he looks at an object he needs, can’t I be looked at that way?
When is it my turn?
So lost in my miserable thoughts, I almost forgot Logan was still in the bathroom with me until he’s suddenly at my side. Gripping my chin with his thumb and index finger, he turns my face towards him while I try to resist. I don’t want to look into his honey eyes, to see the distrust and heat that sets me on fire.
“No, you aren’t going anywhere until I’m done with you.” His grip tightens as I try to release his hold, but freeze when he tangles his fingers into my hair, tipping my head back until I’m left with no choice but to look up at him. “I’ll leave you alone for now, if you admit it.”
My body buzzes, I can’t look away from his stare and I try to remember it was only a few hours ago he held me down on my knees. The mind and body are like warped twisted lovers, a push and pull that never stops. It wants one thing and needs the other. It’s almost like having a fever, the delusion that holds control over you until you're strong enough to wake up.
Glaring at him, he just raises an eyebrow as he waits for me to answer him. I refuse to give him what he wants, after I’ve already given him enough in the last twenty-four hours.
“You know nothing about me, so stop acting like you do. You and I are nothing alike.” I harden my jaw at that, the words more true than I wished they were.
“You’re right. We do come from two different worlds. I’m at the top and you’re way at the bottom, but we all have our demons, don’t we?” His eyes flicker between mine, looking for something before a slow smile tips his plump lips.
Without warning, he shoves me back until my head bangs against the mirror behind me and causes me to hiss in pain. He doesn’t wait for me to recover, his strong tan fingers press on tiny pieces of glass on the pad of my foot, watching my expression the whole time. I suck in a breath, feeling his hand smooth over the spot, ignoring the blood smearing over our skin.
“You like this, don’t you? This is where we clash, baby girl. I like giving the torment so you can feel what I’m feeling inside, and you… you like receiving it to escape from here.” He taps my temple and drops my foot, turning on the faucet to wash his hands.
He acts like he didn’t just suck my soul out and eat it with just a few words. He doesn’t say anything else as he dries his hands on a towel and reaches under the sink to retrieve a first aid kit. Not speaking and shocking me to no end, he grasps the tweezers off the counter and starts pulling out the glass in my foot. I watch him silently, my fingers twitching with the desire to run them through his soft looking wavy brown hair. He keeps peeking up at me under his lashes, his shoulders hunched as he concentrates on his work with skilled fingers. Before I know it, he’s done gathering all the glass out of both my feet, and for some reason the pain mixed in with the feel of his strong capable hands calms something inside of me. The strange feeling held me still like a lake on an early morning. Standing up straight, he drops the worlds smallest torture object in the sink and cages me between his arms as he leans close. His nose skims mine, staring at me without blinking and my breath pants through the air at the closed space between us. I stare at his lips, knowing how much pleasure they can cause and craving it. Our lips almost touching, he starts talking, breaking the illusion I was lost in.
“You can deny it, but you like getting punished. The rush of what can possibly happen next... I can smell the desperation.” He breathes deeply through his nose and nips my bottom lip before pulling away.
Left in a daze, he smirks cruelly down at me with satisfaction and it takes me a second to register what he said.
“I’ll kill you, Logan,” I threaten, sick of his games and me falling for it over and over again.
“Oh, baby girl, you can try, but most don’t get far. I’m watching. Better get ready for school...sister,” he whispers with a wickedly handsome smile. His hand skimming down my cheek just before he turns away and fucking swaggers out of the bathroom.
Fucking sister, my ass. The things we did weren’t so brotherly of him.
I’m going to burn him, burn him so good that he’ll have something to remember me by once I’m done. I just have to find his weakness first… what he values most out of everything.
Glancing down, I open the first aid kit with my brow wrinkled as I think of what I know about him. He gives his father this cold look, almost like he despises him, but he still does as he says. I still need to figure out who exactly this family is, what kind of power they hold. Maybe I’ll get on Franco's side, learn enough to blackmail them back. It’s not like I can go to each of his best friends and gather information… unless…
My eyes widen as I place the last band aid on the heel of my foot, frozen when the thought crosses my mind. It’s crazy. I can’t possibly get away with it. I glance at the bathroom door that leads to his room. His three best friends are like family to him.
What if I turn them against each other? Make them fight over something that could tear them apart? The one thing a man can’t help but let it lead him around. It’s his cock or his heart. I’m pretty good at both, after all, Doris taught me best.
I bite my lip to hold in the evil laughter that wants to come spilling out of my mouth, and hop off the counter to hurry to my room before I start giggling manically at the crazy thoughts processing through my brain. Staring out the windows with the sun rising over the valley, I stand there with my heart racing as a slow smile graces my face.
Could I really do this?
Yes. I fucking can, I have nothing else to lose.