Breath in… breath out…
The scent alone causes me to cower, to breathe from my mouth so I can pretend he’s not in the room with me. The windowless basement with the smell of mold and the tangy taste of copper lingering in the air is something I’ll never be able to erase from my senses. Welcome to the darkest, deepest part of my memory. Fuck you memories, you think I want to repeat this in my head a thousand times a day? No, but the brain is a fickle thing because it doesn’t listen to you one bit, you’re basically a puppet being pulled by the puppet master.
“Have you learned your lesson yet, Daughter?” Payne’s voice echoes off the walls but I can’t pinpoint his hiding spot in the shadows.
It’s only been two weeks since my fallen disgrace happened in here and yet here I am again. Strung up to the rafters, the cuffs digging into my shredded wrists, and the floor above my head soaking in my wails.
“Yes.” My voice is so quiet a mouse wouldn’t be able to hear me.
Did I sit in my bedroom, stiff in the corner of the room with my arms wrapped around myself like a barrier for a week straight? Yes, and I knew he’d come for me eventually, his timing perfect because the bruises had just started to fade to yellow and brown. A fresh area to mark me again.
“What’s that, girl? Speak up!” He appears in front of me like the grim reaper coming from the dark, his voice booming in my face and hooking his fist into my solar plexus without warning.
I imagine this is what it feels like to have someone bring you back from the dead, a whooshing breath of that first inhale and trying to escape the memory of dying.
“Yes!” My hoarse voice shouts, my head falling on my shoulder from being too weak to hold myself up.
“That’s good, very good. Now the real fun can begin in your training. Unless you’d rather have a repeat of having cocks shoved inside your cunt again until you learn to shut up?” His brown eyes gleam, almost anticipating my answer, the sick bastard.
If I had the strength, I’d kill him myself while shoving Cruz’s boots up his ass until it comes out of his mouth and gutting Cruz like a fish at the same time. A thousand stabs of death until my darkest memories are gone. My thoughts are dark and scary, not mine anymore because this Tillie has seen the evil in the real world and her eyes are wide open now despite not wanting to be welcomed with open arms by the devil. The man who is supposed to love me with his whole heart waits for my answer and my words are caught in my throat so I can only nod. I guess his heart was ripped out as a young child when he was innocent and fed to the wolves with sharp teeth that gleamed with blood. Innocence has to disappear at some point whether we want it to or not.
“That’s what I thought. It’s time, little Tillie.” He walks over to the wall where a pegboard of torture devices hang, the sight of it twists my stomach in knots. Payne swipes his toy off the hook, turning back to me with a malicious smile.
No!
His boots scrape over the floor towards me, the sound louder than it should be.
“Tillie.” My voice is being called softly but his lips aren’t moving. He pulls the whip up to my face so I can see what will make me bleed and I’m already screaming before it can even touch my back as he moves behind me.
“Tillie,” whispers a soft voice again, causing my dream to blur around the edges, the image shattering like a broken glass of milk falling from the counter until it’s a running mess with sharpened points.
I sit up in my bed gasping, the tangled sheets under me drenched from my tears and sweat coating my shaking body.
My whole body gives one big shiver, trying to shake off the dream that likes to mess with my mind. I run a trembling hand through my hair to push the sweat soaked stains out of my eyes while reaching for my phone to see that it’s five in the morning and I have about an hour before the alarm goes off for school. There’s no way I can fall back asleep after that dream, might as well start getting ready for the day. My foot touches the floor just as a small scraping sound comes from my bedroom door. My eyes fly over to see the chair still tucked underneath and it’s a little easier to breathe after seeing that it held sturdy.
‘Tillie, open up. Hurry,’ whispers a familiar faint female voice on the other side of the door.
The compound is still dark along with the sky that is just starting to turn a greyish/blue, a hint that the sunrise is coming. Everyone should still be passed out somewhere with hangovers and their dicks exposed to the cold morning air. Sliding out of bed the rest of the way on quiet feet, I pad over to the door and place my ear against the weakened wood to hear soft breathing on the other side.
“It’s me, Doris.” I’m already picking up the chair before she finishes that sentence and cracking open the door to see her panicked face on the other side.
She pushes through the door, shoving me out of the way and quietly shutting it behind her with a wince. If it was anyone else, I’d be running for my window to find a way out but Doris has been like the mother I’ve never had. Looking out for me when she could, just overall protecting me the best way a person in her position can. She’s stuck in this place too, realizing a long time ago that once in the club, there is no other place you will belong.
“What is going on? Doris, what are you doing!” I hiss under my breath, freaking the fuck out as she rushes around my room with a duffle bag collecting my stuff with trembling hands.
She just continues to pack, opening my drawers, not saying a thing. Having enough, I place my hands on her shoulders to spin her around to face me. Her brown eyes are blown wide with fear, filling with tears as she looks at my face before pulling me into a tight hug.
My arms hang loose at my sides, knowing that whatever she’s doing… She’s saying goodbye because Doris doesn’t hug.
“It’s time to fly free, girl,” she whispers into my hair and shoves the duffle bag and my helmet into my numb hands along with my leather jacket.
“What are you talking about?” To my own ears, my voice comes out hollow and broken because she gives me this false hope that there is a place for me besides here.
I’m fucking terrified.
“You need to run. Should have been running five minutes ago, years ago.” She wipes sweat from her forehead, looking like she’s aged ten years with wrinkles more pronounced around her tight lipped mouth. “He’s going to give you away, Tillie. I need to get you out of here, and I finally found her after looking for so long.” Her rambling words don’t make sense as she quietly opens my bedroom door, looking both ways.
She reaches back and grabs my hand, dragging me along with her down the dark hallway lined with closed bedroom doors as my body follows like I’m really not there. She pauses at the staircase, peaking around the corner, straining to see if anyone is moving below. With a yank, she pulls me down the stairs after her and makes her way towards the back kitchen door, stepping over a passed out Joker. I swear she’s barely breathing. I know to keep quiet so I don’t say a word until we’re outside with the door shutting softly behind us.
“Give me away? What is happening right now?” My lungs hurt, and feel like my heart is going to explode out my chest and paint the compound red.
We round the corner to my bike and she takes the duffle bag from my fingers to strap on the back of the bike while her eyes dart around, looking for any movement.
“Cruz. Payne’s going to give you to Cruz. You’d be his old lady, Tillie, and I know in my heart you wouldn’t make it to next year.” The blood drains from my face as I sway on my feet, she steadies me by gripping my forearms so I’m focused on her face. “You’re going to do exactly as I say, okay?” She searches my face before nodding, making sure everything she’s saying is absorbing through my shock.
“Get on your bike, drive far enough into the desert until it’s undecided which way you could have gone and crash it, okay? Then, you need to hitch a ride to downtown Las Vegas, your trail can get lost there to buy you time. Get on a greyhound bus for a ticket to New York but pay with cash and tell the clerk that you’re running from an abusive husband, they should keep that on the down low, hopefully. You really need a ticket for Los Angeles instead, you need to disappear. I want you to hide your face from any and all cameras, and dye your hair with the color I put in the bag once you get off your stop. Make sure your hoodie is pulled up.” She helps me put my helmet on because my hands are shaking too hard, this is happening too fast.
I’m not ready.
“Can’t you come with me-”
She’s already shaking her head and pulls me into another hug which I return this time because this is really goodbye. “No, I have to appear normal and hide you no matter what. Tillie, remember this address and repeat it over and over until it sticks. She’s the only safe place and I hope one day you’ll forgive me for not telling you. I have to make sure they can’t find you, it’s all I have left to give and I should have done this years ago.” She places a piece of paper in my hand and pulls down my visor, nodding towards the gates.
“Who-” My words are cut off once again, but this time at the sound of the rusty chained gate dragging open and Doris is gone by the time I look over, no doubt crawling back into Payne’s bed before he notices she was ever gone.
Not wasting another second, my bike roars to life, making me wince as I kick the stand up and rush through the now closing gate with a prospect turning a blind eye and locking the gates back up. Not everyone in the club is bad but it’s only a small handful to a full army. My heart races along with my engine the farther I make it away from the compound. It’s either crawl on my knees behind Cruz for the rest of my short miserable life or fly fucking free.
It’s simple, live or die.
I’m going to live but where the hell is Doris sending me?
I know a curve is coming up on the deserted road ahead of me just outside of the Mojave Desert and it’s the perfect spot to crash my bike. It’s far enough away from the Jokers and plenty of time to mislead them because once they find out I’m gone… a manhunt will begin. Cruz will never let me go free unless it’s on the river of the dead. It’s only a matter of time until he finds me, the Jokers have eyes and ears everywhere. This will at least buy me some time.
The hot desert sun is already beating on my back in waves, the wind just as restricting and it’s only been an hour since I left the compound. They’re probably already getting up and doing the usual club business shit. My time is running out and I can’t stop clenching the handlebars because it’s hard to let go of something that actually had a good memory for me. My bike starts to lean with the curve straight ahead and I twist the throttle one last time for a bit of speed before releasing the gas.
This is going to hurt.
My hands slowly release the handlebars on the curve going just a little over thirty, my bike gliding with the road and it almost feels like I’m flying with my arms stretched out over my head just for a second. I reach back quickly and unstrap my duffle bag with one hand, hugging it to my chest just as the bike wobbles under me. My crotch rocket starts tipping to the side, my body moves with it until I’m pushing my feet off footrests and falling onto the asphalt with the bike crashing to the ground, skidding along the road, causing sparks to fly. I keep sliding along the road on my side in a momentum that makes me feel breathless, my body rolling and bouncing off the burning hot road with rocks digging into my back. My leather jacket and helmet offer some protection but my jacket is ripped to shreds and my helmet scratched to hell by the time I come to a stop.
I lay there, trying to catch my breath and take in the injuries to my body. My leg is burning and something hot drips down the side of my calf but other than that, I’m just real fucking dizzy. Sitting up with a grimace, I take my helmet off with a head shake and pant with each breath. I slide off my jacket mournfully and chuck it into the desert with my anger. Sitting there in the freaking middle of the road in the middle of nowhere, I pluck at my ripped skinny jeans without looking at my throbbing leg, feeling pity for myself. It takes me a minute but I eventually gather the courage to look over at my bike.
A whimper escapes my mouth as soon as I see my bike broken on the side of the road, pieces literally scattered across the ground. It’s a heap of metal, unrecognizable beside the stripes of purple that glint off the steel chrome. The Jokers will be able to tell it’s mine once it’s called in. A motorcycle crash will make it back to the club even this far out. They stick to their own kind and news travels fast. The Jokers practically run Las Vegas.
I’m really feeling that dull ache in my leg the moment I stand and it takes a lot not to look down as I start limping away from the wreckage in the opposite direction. The helmet means nothing to me now, tossing it into the pile of broken pieces seemed like a good idea.
I’ve been walking for what seems like an hour, sweat gathers at my hairline and the sun is blaring down on me at this point that it’s hard to tell in the distance if a car is heading my way or if it’s a fragment of my imagination. I’m praying it’s a car that is willing to take a passenger. Almost scared to look, debating if I should make a run for it in the desert because what if it’s Cruz? He would drag me back kicking and screaming from the underworld just to torture me himself.
I can’t help it, my body angles off the road onto the dry dirt but a rush of air expands from my lungs when I see it’s just a truck driver. Sticking my thumb out, I walk backwards and try to appear normal. As if I’d know what that looks like. The trucker honks his horn, it’s a guy which I can tell by the low ball cap and beard from my lower position from the ground, and he starts to slow down near me on the side of the road. Yeah, probably not the best idea to hitchhike with a stranger but what are my options? Besides this guy is probably a freaking daisy amongst a field of poison ivy. He leans over and opens the door with a friendly smile, warm brown eyes with crow’s feet at the corner.
“Hey, little lady, need a ride? Always wanted to say that.” He chuckles at his own little joke as I hide an eye roll before stepping up into the truck with a small jump and grabbing the oh shit bar to heave myself up onto the seat.
He isn’t a bad looking guy, pretty young for living on the road. A nice smile, friendly brown eyes that don’t frighten me, and doesn’t have an overbearing air about him. If I was a normal girl, I’d probably want to date a guy like him if I was looking for a normal, boring future. A family man, simple life. Too bad that’s not for someone like me.
Hiding a wince from the pain in my leg, I shuffle in the big seat until I’m somewhat comfortable. He waits for my answer, not even putting the truck into gear.
“Um yeah. You wouldn’t be heading to Las Vegas near the strip by chance?” I have to clear my throat a few times so my voice sounds not so scratchy from walking in the middle of the desert for God knows how long.
“Sure am! Want a water?” He asks, but is already leaning back for a bottle of water, his face is suddenly very close to my boobs as he tries to reach behind his seat.
He seems to notice this at the same time when he pauses and stares before shaking his head. He quickly sits back up in his seat, handing me the water and blushing a bright red.
Hmm… maybe this trucker isn’t one of the bad ones. He’s kind of cute in a lumberjack way even with the slight dad bod he has going on and the beard probably covering a baby face but it works for him.
“Thanks.” I turn away from him, his staring making me uncomfortable as if he’s looking for something in my gaze. I twist the cap off to chug the water with a moan because it feels so good going down my dry throat.
He clears his throat and starts the semi, finally heading south on the open road towards the city of sin. It’s funny, I think sin shouldn’t be defined in one place because everyone is a sinner in one form or another. I guess more are drawn to a city that is made for sinning and gives you an excuse to be bad where the secrets stay. Too bad that’s my life definition everyday.
“So, why Las Vegas? Did you have some car trouble, that’s why you were on the side of the road?” He’s already nodding his head like that explains it and I’ll let him keep thinking that, guess we were doing the small talk.
I prop my elbow on the windowsill and stare outside to see the desert, that all looks the same, pass by in a blur.
“Yup, car trouble. Can you drop me off on south main street at the Greyhound bus station?” I try to keep my tone neutral and bored so he doesn’t suspect anything because who wouldn’t when a girl is walking alone on the deserted road?
I mean come on, my pants are ripped up at the knees with a bloodstain on my calf and my white tank top is sticking to my skin from sweating. I’m not exactly the most put together right now.
“Where are you heading from there?” He asks slowly and I turn to look at him staring at the road with furrowed brows as if he’s starting to finally question why I’m out in the middle of nowhere.
“Visiting family.” My lame excuse rushes out to make him believe that something like that is as simple as it sounds, which works when his expression clears so I try to direct the conversation somewhere else before he asks more unwanted questions. “How long have you been on the road?”
He sits up straighter and flashes me a smile before tapping the bobblehead of a woman in a Hawaiian skirt. He couldn’t be any more normal and boring if he tried.
“Me and my girl here have been on the road for a couple of years after getting out of school. It’s the easy life, ya know? Just me and the open road. I always wanted to travel the world and this comes pretty close to it.” He winks and takes his ball cap off to nervously scratch his brown hair that’s surprisingly not receding before placing it back on top of his head. “Gets kind of lonely though but we sign up for this stuff all on our own.” His expression falls and damn if I don’t feel bad for him.
I completely understand being lonely even when you’re in a crowded room, all you have is you and yourself. The only difference is this guy chose to get in this truck and live his life to the happiest he can… me not so much. Choices get taken away. It’s in that moment when I notice that I have a choice right the fuck now. I’m out in the open, not under Payne’s thumb with watchful eyes. I may be on the run but it’s my decision. I’m just going to have to be careful to not end up back in that monster’s fingertips.
“Totally. Hey, what’s your name?” I’m going to remember this trucker who helped give me an escape even if he didn’t know it. He’s really one of the good ones out there.
“Adam. What about you, little lady?” He draws out with a chuckle, tipping his hat at me in a cheesy manner.
This I have to be careful with because I haven’t decided what to do about my name. It’s a way to come up with something new but it’s just easier to go by Tillie. I’ll just have to give a different last name.
“Tillie Jones. Nice to meet ya, trucker Adam.” I offer a hesitant smile which only causes him to practically beam at me and stick out his hand for me to shake.
I eye his hand like it might somehow bite me and decide this guy can’t possibly hurt me more than I already have been. My hand clasps his with a small shake before I quickly let go and fiddle with the radio to offer a distraction because that small touch is freaking me out. A simple, common touch shouldn’t scare people but it does for me. I’ll never be normal. The rest of the ride is quiet except for the random questions he asks with the radio softly playing in the background. My shoulders gradually relax somewhat but it’s only the beginning of my journey and I’m automatically taught to trust no one.
