Chapter 5

Moira

My head is pounding from being tossed to and fro in the back of the van, so when it suddenly brakes to a stop and I smash into the metal side of the vehicle, I'm momentarily dazed. When the side door slides open, I realize that while I don't know the names of the two foreboding men who are standing there, hovering over me and leering at me, they're the same type of sick, twisted individuals that had me and Belle formally in captivity. I know I'm going to be in a world of pain soon, based on the look on the taller man's sinister face.

I know that someone named Angel healed my injuries from my time in Hell, but my body still bears the scars from my father's so-called ‘love', and it scares me that I'll be adding more. That's if I even survive their tender care this time around.

I shouldn't have left, I think to myself.

The taller of the two men reaches in and grabs me by my bicep, none too kindly, yanking me from the van like a rag doll. Pain radiates throughout my body, and I stumble slightly, causing him to jerk me upright then slap me across the face with the palm of his hand.

"Bitch, you only thought you escaped from us, but we've known where you were all along," he sneers, causing me to tremble.

How is that possible?I muse. I haven't used my credit or debit card, either bartering for what I need or using what cash I still have in my possession.

"Yeah, we knew that biker gang rescued you and that other bitch, and took Alvin and Bert as well," the short guy adds through his gritted teeth.

It's not a gang, it's a club, my mind whispers. I sure heard that often enough from Belle whenever someone at college would try to put her down for her association with her brother.

But Belle will always be proud of Sleeper, or, as she calls him, Tony. He's her big brother, and he stepped in and helped raise her when their piece-of-shit father fell down on the job. She told me how livid he was when he found out that the money he was giving to their dad for her care went into his body in the form of drugs and alcohol.

Belle has no idea, none at all, that she saved me. Because of her, I learned the ways of the real world, not the fantasyland that my father believed in. I know how to manage my money, how to ‘dress for success' as Belle says, and can even do basic maintenance on my vehicle. Although, that last part was courtesy of Tony because he said all women need to know that kind of thing.

And while I have dealt with physical and verbal abuse my whole life, mostly from my father, what I went through the first time still has me locked away in my head. I can even visualize how I look; curled in a corner, a gag in my mouth, my hands and feet bound. The problem is even though I know how to handle extreme pain, it's not something you can really teach someone else. So, in that respect, I let my best friend down. She was unprepared for the treatment we received, because while her father was a jerk, he wasn't physically abusive. Just mentally absent and neglectful, which stopped when Tony stepped into her life more fully.

It's another reason I won't speak; the guilt that consumes me over what I led her into keeps me from saying a word. If I had heeded her gut feeling, we would've never been taken. Her sense of self-preservation is obviously stronger than mine, and I wish I had thought about letting her brother's club check further into the summer camp program. Because on the surface, what I was able to see? It looked legit, but there's no way based on how we were treated that there wouldn't have been something to find, and she's always bragged that her brother's brother has computer skills that are beyond the norm.

Tall Guy grabs me by my ponytail and yanks me toward a small, somewhat unassuming house. It's not in a neighborhood, more out of the way, which is what these jerks do so they can beat on women and screw them in an effort to ‘expand the family'. If what happened before is behind that door, there'll be women and also children, along with more men who will use the women how they see fit.

One lone tear rolls down my face as they push and shove me toward the front door, but I don't utter a sound. I might not be able to keep from crying, but I will never give them the satisfaction of making a peep. I just don't know if I can handle it again. Will this be the straw that completely breaks the camel's back?

I stumble over the entryway because they're moving so fast, earning a fist to the middle of my back, which causes me to fall to my knees where I eventually land on my face, my torn shirt sliding down off my shoulders.

"Looks like we need to redo her brand," Tall Guy says as he pulls me up off the floor and tosses me onto the couch.

Brand? What brand?I don't remember having a brand on my body. Wouldn't I remember something like that?

"Well, let's get that taken care of then," Short Guy replies, enjoying my upcoming torture a little too much.

I watch as he goes to a hall closet and opens the door, coming out with a cattle prod that has a weird symbol soldered on the end. It looks a lot like the birthmark on my shoulder which frightens me, because I never thought it was anything but something I was born with, not a damn brand!

While I'm distracted by Short Guy's actions, which include starting the fireplace and placing the brand inside to heat up, Tall Guy manages to wrangle me to a chair and tie me up. As tears steadily flow, I send up silent pleas for someone, anyone, to rescue me.

* * *

Because I have been living with the ‘biker gang', I've been deemed unfit to be a breeder, so despite the pain wracking my body due to the open wound on my shoulder from the brand, I am now sitting against the wall in a room full of children.

The nursery, where little ones from infants to young toddlers are, being their caretaker is apparently my job. I watch several other women, whose names I don't care to know because I suspect the end for me will be death, are currently feeding the babies as I sit there, lost in my head.

Recriminations against myself are bouncing in my mind. No amount of physical abuse these assholes could do to me would be worse. I'm concerned for my sanity at this point and wish I could speak out somehow.

It's solely up to you.Wrecker's voice from when he tried to help me reverberates. I get it, I really do, that it's my choice not to speak, but I don't believe he fully understands how indoctrinated those beliefs, however false, are imbued in my psyche.

I spent hours as a child copying down scripture that focused on how children should honor their parents, which as an adult, I realize is bullshit. When a parent, who's supposed to love their child unconditionally, is abusive, I feel like they broke that trust, and the child has the right to walk away and emancipate themselves from them. I tried; I went away to college and have never been back home, but I realize that I was still underneath their thumb, especially when Tall Guy spewed a bunch of shit while we waited for me to be branded.

"Yeah, we control a lot of shit, bitch," he sneered. "We used all that new technology to keep tabs on you when you were rescued. Knew when you left that biker gang, where you were holed up in the city, who you were with while you were alone. We're gonna get that bitch back too, it's just a matter of time."

He's talking about Selah, of course, as she's who I was with while on the run. I'm afraid for her now since she was so helpful to me in so many ways. I hope the motorcycles we heard that morning was Butcher and his friends because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, they'll protect her with their lives.

Kracken and his brothers would've done the same for you,my brain whispers.

Lost in thought, I startle when a little girl crawls up onto my lap and puts her hands on my face. She looks familiar, which I don't understand, because other than the baby at the clubhouse, I don't really know many kids. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I wait to see what she's going to do.

"It's okay, Moira. It's okay for you to talk," she whispers. "You're my mommy's best friend and she's worried about you, but Uncle Wrecker says when you're ready, you'll talk."

Mommy's best friend?My best friend is Belle, and she doesn't have any kids yet, although I'm sure she and Jingles are working on it on a regular basis. Wait a minute, Uncle Wrecker? Is she… could she be Selah's little girl? The one she always talked about trying to find?

"I'm Hannah," she murmurs. "You're going to be fine, Moira. Let me help."

I don't take my eyes off her but feel as though she's looking inside of my brain, scanning for information I'm not sure someone of her tender age should have knowledge of. Not only can I feel it, but I can see it, which is kind of freaking me out, if I'm being totally honest. She crouches in front of me in my head and gently touches the imaginary gag placed securely across my mouth to remind me not to make a peep.

"Children should be seen and heard, Moira. How else can parents know when something's wrong?" she asks my curled-up figure. "Children are allowed to move around, too," she says, gently touching the self-inflicted bindings at my wrists and ankles. "Let me help you, Moira. You have the power, remember?"

Even though this is all going on in my head, I can feel tears steadily streaming around my face as Hannah takes the gag off from my mouth, then manages to get me untied. Suddenly, I'm free, at least inside my head, but fear now keeps me mute.

She sadly shakes her head, but reaches out her hand, which I take. "It's okay, you'll know when it's safe for you to speak. And when you see them again, you'll let Uncle Wrecker and Uncle Dragon finish helping you reclaim yourself, right?"

I nod, both inside my head and while sitting against the wall. I don't know what she's done to me, but even though fear and terror still claw at my very soul, I feel stronger somehow.

I ‘come to' with Hannah now curled up against my chest, her soft breaths letting me know she's asleep. I vow to protect Selah's little girl with everything I have in me and if necessary, I'll fight to the death.