My bedroom door flies open and slams against the wall.
I take a step back, away from him. I push a piece of my hair behind my ear and stare at my father.
He is six feet tall and skin and bones. His face is sunken in, and his hair is stringy. Drugs and a poor diet will do that to you.
“I will not ask again, bitch,” he says, bringing me out of my thoughts.
I stare at him with sadness. I’ve never had a father who cared about me. It’s sad that I’ve become used to this.
“I was changing,” I lie to him and soften my face to look innocent.
He sneers at me and looks around my room. “Bull-fucking-shit. What were you doing?”
The picture that covers the hidey hole in the wall falls, My phone slides out of the hole and lands on the bed.
“What the fuck is this, bitch?” he roars in my face and stomps past me.
When he picks my phone up, it rings. Jordan’s picture pops up as he FaceTimes me.
“Who the fuck is this?” He shows the screen to me.
I close my eyes. Yeah, I’m doomed.
“Who the fuck is this?” he screams in my face, spit flying out of his mouth and hitting me.
“Nobody,” I say in a soft, meek voice. I’m scared. I’m beyond scared at the thought of the beating looming in front of me.
“Well, we will see, won’t we?” My father chuckles evilly as he thrusts the phone into my hand. “Answer it.”
I shake my head. I can’t let Jordan see me like this.
My father’s face darkens, and I gulp. He punches me in the nose, and I flinch in pain. Blood drips from my nose and down my face.
“ANSWER IT,” he roars again, and tears well in my eyes.
I tap the green circle, and Jordan’s face pops onto my screen. I mouth, “I am sorry,” to him. A million different emotions come over his face at the sight of me, and I feel ashamed.
“Well, I see why you were hiding the phone, bitch.” My father clucks his tongue and fists my hair.
“Take your fucking hands off her or the whole fucking Devils Souls MC will take out your ass,” Jordan threatens my dad in a voice I haven’t ever heard him use before. Then, to me, he mouths, “I am coming for you.”
My dad throws the phone, and it shatters into a million pieces.
“You just signed my death warrant, bitch!” my dad screams in a high-pitched voice. He throws his hand back and connects with my face. Then he does it again and again.
I fall to the floor, and he kicks me in the stomach. I curl into a ball as he steps on my hands and kicks me anywhere he can that will cause harm.
I black out and hold on to the hope that Jordan is coming for me. I can’t live this life anymore.
“FUCKK!” I yell at the top of my lungs at the sight of Alisha—blood running down her face and a man fisting her hair hard.
Her eyes filled with tears. She’s lost, sad, and utterly alone.
Not anymore.
I run up the stairs of the basement where my office is and into the clubhouse. I spot Butch, Vin, and Trey sitting at the bar, shooting the shit. They see my expression and stand up.
“What’s up, Techy?” Vin asks.
“I met this fucking girl online on a dating site when I was tracking down the fucking gang members. I couldn’t get her fucking out of my mind. I messaged her two months ago, and we have been video chatting since. Someone was banging on her door today when we were chatting, and then she disconnected it. I called back a minute later, and when she picked up, blood was pouring down her face and a man’s hand was in her hair,” I explain quickly, not even caring to be embarrassed that I met her online.
“Fuck, man,” Butch says. He walks toward the door, ready to ride with me.
“She yours?” Trey asks.
I nod. He walks outside, and Vin follows suit. Butch follows behind them, and I run out, my gun in my holster. I climb onto my Harley and then floor it out of the parking lot.
Only thing between me and Alisha is the open highway.
No fucking woman should be hurt like that, especially her.
He is going to fucking pay with his life.
I groan as I reach for the blanket hanging off my bed. I drag it across the floor and under my head. I shiver and wince at the pain in my stomach, the tears dragging down my face feeling like scalding-hot water.
He’s never beaten me this badly before. I knew that it would be bad, but this? This is something else altogether. My body feels like one huge bruise. I won’t be able to get up, so I am going to sleep here.
My mom is in the house. I saw her look into the bedroom as he was kicking me, but she turned around and walked away. She blocks it out, ignores it. She’s seen this every single day of her life and does nothing to stop it. He hits her too, but not like he does me.