He squinted at me. “Yeah. Whole lower back.”
I tried to picture Theo participating in that. Burning a man’s skin until the ink was gone. Scarring him for life. I shuddered.
On the other hand, Viper was an abhorrent piece of shit and there was no doubt in my mind that he deserved that and worse. He was looking at me through narrowed eyes, suspicious, realizing I was asking a whole lot of questions. Time to turn on the charm. “That must have been really horrible,” I said, touching his arm, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
He blinked, disconcerted. “Yeah.” Then he pointed at a patron seated alone at a tiny table. “Go take care of him.” I slid from the stool and obeyed.
Will I ever even see the sun again?
Doesn’t anyone even remember me, now? Are they looking for me? Have they given up? Do they even remember my name? The drugs were wearing off. I felt like I was spiraling into a black hole. I needed another hit and I hated myself for it.
"We're moving you soon," Viper told me one evening. We were in a private booth - he was sitting back in the couch-like seat, and I was riding his cock, straddled across his lap. I didn't know whether to be thankful for my functional little body or to feel betrayed, but his rough treatment never failed to get me aroused. My walls accepted him easily, even gladly. He didn't care if I came or not, but I would get off fast back on my cot late at night.
"Where?" I asked. He yanked my hair back, hard, exposing my neck to his tongue and teeth. I moaned as another wave of my fluids coated his shaft. Maybe I deserve this. Was born for this. Maybe this is all I am. The defeated thoughts crept in whenever he was withholding the drugs, as he was right then. He wouldn't deliver until he came.
"East coast." I stilled in his lap.
"But you haven't killed Theo yet." I wondered if I could goad him into recklessness. Probably not. I'm not as smart as I like to imagine. Oh, God, I'm never getting away. A tear leaked free. Viper licked it from my cheek, his tongue hot and abrasive. Vile.
I offered him my arm. "Please."
"Soon," he grunted. He thrust up into me harder. I cried out as his fingers dug into my hips, leaving a trail of bruises. He came with a roar that the whole club could hear, holding me down on his lap as he spilled inside me. Shit, have they been giving me the pill? They have. I'd be pretty useless pregnant.
I waited patiently as he slid out of me. "Want your hit?"
"Please."
"You ain't getting it." My heart stuttered. "Your friends knocked over our shipment. They've interrupted all our fucking routes." He rose and I stumbled backwards, straightening my sequined skirt as I tried to escape the path of his fury. "So when we're rationing our fucking H, you're at the bottom of the list, see?"
My blood ran cold. My act was for nothing? "They're not my friends, please! I've done everything for you. I've done everything right!"
He smirked. "Dumb whore. Think you're playing me?" I shook my head. "You've been spared the worst of these lowlifes thanks to me," he snarled, "But that's as far as my kindness goes. I'm not stupid enough to trust you. Would you stop that?!" I was still shaking my head in denial. I didn't stop, even when he grabbed my hair.
"Please. Just a little." God help me, I sound like an addict. My body craved the drug, no matter what denials I ran through my brain. Panic welled in my chest. I'm stuck, I'm sunk, I'm done for...
"Get on stage." I jumped to obey. He grabbed my arm before I was out of reach. "If you can get off while you dance, I might have something for you."
I ran for it. I took the stairs two at a time backstage and spotted the manager - Rita, Renee, something like that. I didn't care.
"Viper wants me out there," I told her. It wasn't my shift and she scowled at the intrusion, but after shouting a few instructions into her radio and waving off a couple girls, she sent me out.
I strode into the light to the grating techno beats that I'd come to despise. My heart beat right along with the frantic bass. The electronic sounds were offensive to my ears. Just one more bit of hell on top of everything else. It seemed like a silly thing to fixate on as I stepped out until full view of small crowd of drunk and dirty patrons. But it made my blood boil, my vision go red.
"This music fucking sucks!" I shouted, flipping two middle fingers off at the DJ booth. I couldn't see him, but I knew he could see me. Whether or not he heard me, though...
The track changed over to some trip-hop bullshit. "Come on," I yelled, "Real men don't listen to this!" A few of the patrons shouted in slurred agreement.
The music switched again - an awful country ballad piped through the speakers. Some of the men rose, agitated, and threw beer bottles past my head like it was my fault. Maybe it was. Never piss off the DJ. Time to diffuse this shit.