The Rage: Hell's Disciples MC 3(10)

       
           


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Mom had told my dad she was pregnant when she was fifteen. He packed up  his shit and he split. It's really no bother to me. Mom said he was a  loser, so he wouldn't have contributed much anyway. Growing up, I didn't  get shit from my mom except heartache and hard lessons about life.  Don't get me wrong, she tried, but she was young and caught up in living  her own life, staying fucked up and getting fucked. She lived hard and  wild, not leaving much time to pay any attention to me.

I've learned to rely on myself and struggle all on my own. I don't put  my shit on anyone. My mess, my problem. I learned to be strong,  independent, crafty, and smart  –  always taking care of myself. I always  keep my head held high and push through the shit life throws my way.  Sure, there are things out of my control, but I fight back. I've been  knocked down  –  literally  –  but I always get back up and fight like hell.  I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Rampage giving me this car just showed me that there are still decent  people left in this world, and that good shit happens to good people.  With school getting harder and more expensive, along with my degrading  job, I really needed that reminder.

The one thing my mom taught me with no shame, was how to strip.  Stripping is not my ideal career, but I've got the body and brains for  it. It pays well and I get to pick my hours so it works …  for now.

Bills were piling up and I didn't have a whole lot to choose from. I  needed hours that worked around my school schedule, and every job that I  applied for ended up being a bust, so I did what I had to do. Right now  shit isn't great, but I do what needs to be done to get me where I want  to be. I push through it day in and day out, knowing that things have  to get better if I keep working hard for it. Come hell or high water, I  will survive.

After sitting in my new car for what seems like hours, I get out, lock  her up and head to my front door. Once I make my way inside, I find a  very unwelcome guest on my couch. His dirty shoes are on my coffee  table, an arm thrown over the back of my couch like he owns the place,  and an opened case of beer is sitting on the floor by his feet. My  stomach twists and I want to vomit as a chill settles through my bones.  The intense need to flee runs through me, but he'll chase me, and he  will catch me. He always catches me.

"Where the fuck you been, bitch, and who the fucks car is that?"

A few years ago, I ended, or at least tried to end, a long, violent  relationship. Ryan is the epitome of trash. He's mean, cruel,  self-centered and conceited. His most memorable trait is how he likes to  beat the shit out of me.

Ryan has been in and out of my life for a long time now. He was the son  of a man my mom used to date. Ryan came into my life when we were young,  being a friend when I needed one the most. He was always polite,  considerate, and funny, nothing like his father. Things happened that  caused us to part ways for years, but he found me, wanting to continue  with a relationship, but I didn't want any relationship with him at the  time. After a lot of attention from him, I finally gave in and we began  dating, and I soon saw him for who he really was and what he knew about  our sudden departure years before. He's used that ever since, and things  have just gotten worse. It's been years, and I still can't be rid of  him.

I've tried. God, I've tried. I tried being nice, I've tried being  forceful, demanding that he stay away. I moved numerous times. I've  changed my number more times than I care to remember. Hell, I even tried  the legal way. A restraining order only made him angrier. When he beat  my ass because of it, the cops didn't do a thing. Nada. The only option  left to me now is to kill him, but I'd really hate to go to prison for  the rest of my life, but it's looking like my final option if I want to  outlive him.

No matter where I go, he finds me. No matter how hard I fight, he fights  even harder. I don't have any options available to me, so I do what I  know. I fight ‘til one of us are gone.

"Ryan, what are you doing here?"





4


Fresh Veggies


Rampage

That fucking kiss was worth that Chevy. I'd give her a vehicle every day  for the rest of my goddamn life for that exact same reaction from her.

Someone sweet like her doesn't belong with someone like me, but it  doesn't mean I don't want to soak that shit up. Men like me don't get  those types of women. I don't get to touch perfection as pure as that,  let alone taste it. It was a taste of something I'll never have, but  it's something I'll never forget.

That simple gesture from her lightened something in me, hitting a spot  in my soul I didn't know I had. I've never given someone happiness like  that in my life, and as dumb as it sounds, it makes me feel a little bit  humble, having the things I have that others just can't get. Lala had a  look of pure joy and happiness on her face, and I put that shit there. I  actually feel happy, knowing I could give her that. Best fucking thing I  ever did, even if it was only something small for someone who deserves  so much more.                       
       
           


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It's been a week and Lala hasn't been back around. Although she left me  with that great fucking memory, I'm still chewing at the bit to see her  again. She don't owe me shit, but I find myself getting even more pissy  with each passing day I don't see her. Why the fuck hasn't she been  around? I even went as far as to ask Lil about her. Yeah I went all high  school and shit, but it had to be done for my sanity.

Lil filled me in on meeting Lala when she started tutoring her at the  college. They'd become friends, but she knew nothing of Lala's life  outside of that. She asked why I wanted to know and I had no good  reason. I just want to see her again.

I stop my musings when Gin throws a cigarette at me from across the  parking space, hitting my arm, "You ready to head back, asshole?" He  looks miserable and that shit makes me happy. Water is coming down in  sheets and his ass is soaked to the bone.

No, I'm not ready. I got a call a few hours ago saying to meet our guy  here and the fucker never showed. That shit really fucks my mood up. You  tell me you're gonna be somewhere, you better fucking be there. I'm not  gonna sit out here all night. This torrential downpour started about  ten minutes ago, and I'm sick of sitting in it myself.

"Guess so, ya fuckin' dickhead. At least you won't need to shower for  the next few days," I say to him. Knowing how fuckin' miserable he is  right now makes this trip worthwhile.

Pulling up to the club lot, it's crawling toward one in the morning. The  rain is coming down even heavier, if that's even possible. I'm soaking  fucking wet. All I need is a hot shower so I can pass the fuck out. I'm  rounding the corner when I see the Chevy sitting outside the gates at  the far end of the property.

What the fuck?

"Who the fucks that?" Gin asks, pulling his piece.

"Calm down there, killer. It's Lil's friend. Imma see what's up."

Gin looks to the truck and back to me, "You good?"

Nodding, I make my way to the truck, trying to figure out why she would park outside the gates, and not inside.

Rounding on the driver's side door, I see the window smashed out. Fuck.

Shards of glass cling to the window frame, and inside, there's glass all  over the driver's seat and floor. I finally look up and see Lala. Shit.

She's in the passenger seat passed out, wrapped up in a small blanket. I don't fucking like how this is looking.

Knocking on the car softly, I try not to scare the fuck out of her, "Lala?"

Jerking awake, she pulls a wood bat out of the blanket and begins to frantically look around.

"Lala, it's just me ok?" I tear the bandana from around my face and remove my hat, trying to help the situation.

I hold up my hands and say, "Calm the fuck down. It's only me."

Those big blues widen as she stares at me for a second, her face marred  with confusion and worry. I give her time, then she finally seems to  remember where she's at.

"The fuck ya doin' out here?" I ask. Turning her head a little, she  looks out the window and back to me, still trying to wake up I guess.  When she moves her face I see a cut on her cheek and blood on her face.  Her lip is also bleeding. What the hell happened? "You're bleedin'. You  get in a wreck or somethin'?" Sitting the bat down by her feet, she  shakes her head no, but doesn't elaborate.

"What are ya doin' outside the club at one in the goddamn mornin'?"

Biting her lip, she looks upset and embarrassed, "Lil said if I ever  needed anything …  and well, she's not around … " she trails off.

"Not followin', babe, so stop blabbering and say what you have to say."

Pulling the blanket off cautiously, she uses it to swipe glass from the  driver's seat and moves to sit behind the wheel. That's when I see her  shirt ripped at the neck. What the fuck? I'm trying hard not to jump to  conclusions here, but this whole scene is fucked.