that would take forever. Their frolics never ended early.
I took a deep breath as my sweating hand tightened its grip on my books.
Then I started to walk towards the building.
Their revelry stopped as soon as I entered the clubhouse. What seemed like a thousand pairs of eyes descended on me, and I immediately felt the revulsion and scorn in their hearts.
I managed to take a few steps amidst the silence. I slithered my way through the horde of people - patches and prospects and sweet butts - until I was halfway across the lobby and so near the hallway that led to my designated room.
I thought I was scot-free, until someone threw a bottle of beer in front of me. It quickly shattered and some of the shards scraped my ankles.
“Fucking rat slut!” a girl screamed. I didn’t see who she was.
It didn’t matter, though, for less than a second later, everyone in that place was yelling at me. Soon, thereafter, it was raining cigarette filters and chicken bones and spit.
I quickened my pace until I reached the hallway. They never stopped screaming. Most of the curses were from the girls, and they were cruel. Just die bitch! Go suck some cop’s cock! Just send her to Lonesome Rose!
The men said some mean things too, but not as mean as what the women were shouting. But that doesn’t make their words less hurtful. A particular conversation scarred my heart.
We can just bury her next to her old man.
Did we even bury her daddy?
Oh, that’s right. We just left him in the sewers with the rest of the rats.
It reminded me that they never even held a funeral for my father.
I ran towards the room and closed the door. I threw myself on the bed. I clenched my hands into fists and slammed the cushion. I tried my best not to cry. I’ve been crying since he died... I’ve been crying too much...
I should be stronger than this , I told myself, hoping to muster enough strength to regain my composure. But it wasn’t enough. A torrent of emotions flooded through me and I began to weep, forming a puddle of tears on the bed beneath my face.
You’re not a prisoner here , Bane said, but it never felt that way. I had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. I was stuck here, with the club that abhorred me because of what my father did.
My dad served them for more than thirty years, and now, all that they could remember was his final act of betrayal...
And their hatred for the daughter he left behind.
I was awakened by sound of the door creaking open and the loud footsteps that followed.
He saw me peeking out of the blanket that covered my entire body. He was a little bit shocked that I was still awake.
“Aw hell! I know I should’ve knocked but I thought ‘ya were already dreamin’,” he said as we went straight to the drawer past the bed. “Now close ‘yer eyes. I gotta get dressed. I stink like a fucking hobo after bein’ under the sun the whole fuckin’ day.”
I pulled the sheets over my face, but the blanket wasn’t enough to cover my sight.
And I saw him.
He removed his kutte. He was wearing a white shirt... the only kind of shirt he always liked to wear. But it was covered with something that I didn’t immediately recognize because of the darkness. Something shiny and gluey that stuck on his clothes like streaks of paint.
I gasped in horror when I realized that it was blood.
Lots and lots of blood that smeared his top like zebra striped of crimson red.
Was he bleeding? My heart pumped like crazy with worry.
He removed his shirt. His husky body glistened with sweat and nothing else. I heaved a sigh of relief in knowing that he was unharmed.
But then, I saw it.
Scars, old and dry and withered, daubed all over his brawny back like doodles of a child who could barely draw. They painted a story of
I took a deep breath as my sweating hand tightened its grip on my books.
Then I started to walk towards the building.
Their revelry stopped as soon as I entered the clubhouse. What seemed like a thousand pairs of eyes descended on me, and I immediately felt the revulsion and scorn in their hearts.
I managed to take a few steps amidst the silence. I slithered my way through the horde of people - patches and prospects and sweet butts - until I was halfway across the lobby and so near the hallway that led to my designated room.
I thought I was scot-free, until someone threw a bottle of beer in front of me. It quickly shattered and some of the shards scraped my ankles.
“Fucking rat slut!” a girl screamed. I didn’t see who she was.
It didn’t matter, though, for less than a second later, everyone in that place was yelling at me. Soon, thereafter, it was raining cigarette filters and chicken bones and spit.
I quickened my pace until I reached the hallway. They never stopped screaming. Most of the curses were from the girls, and they were cruel. Just die bitch! Go suck some cop’s cock! Just send her to Lonesome Rose!
The men said some mean things too, but not as mean as what the women were shouting. But that doesn’t make their words less hurtful. A particular conversation scarred my heart.
We can just bury her next to her old man.
Did we even bury her daddy?
Oh, that’s right. We just left him in the sewers with the rest of the rats.
It reminded me that they never even held a funeral for my father.
I ran towards the room and closed the door. I threw myself on the bed. I clenched my hands into fists and slammed the cushion. I tried my best not to cry. I’ve been crying since he died... I’ve been crying too much...
I should be stronger than this , I told myself, hoping to muster enough strength to regain my composure. But it wasn’t enough. A torrent of emotions flooded through me and I began to weep, forming a puddle of tears on the bed beneath my face.
You’re not a prisoner here , Bane said, but it never felt that way. I had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. I was stuck here, with the club that abhorred me because of what my father did.
My dad served them for more than thirty years, and now, all that they could remember was his final act of betrayal...
And their hatred for the daughter he left behind.
I was awakened by sound of the door creaking open and the loud footsteps that followed.
He saw me peeking out of the blanket that covered my entire body. He was a little bit shocked that I was still awake.
“Aw hell! I know I should’ve knocked but I thought ‘ya were already dreamin’,” he said as we went straight to the drawer past the bed. “Now close ‘yer eyes. I gotta get dressed. I stink like a fucking hobo after bein’ under the sun the whole fuckin’ day.”
I pulled the sheets over my face, but the blanket wasn’t enough to cover my sight.
And I saw him.
He removed his kutte. He was wearing a white shirt... the only kind of shirt he always liked to wear. But it was covered with something that I didn’t immediately recognize because of the darkness. Something shiny and gluey that stuck on his clothes like streaks of paint.
I gasped in horror when I realized that it was blood.
Lots and lots of blood that smeared his top like zebra striped of crimson red.
Was he bleeding? My heart pumped like crazy with worry.
He removed his shirt. His husky body glistened with sweat and nothing else. I heaved a sigh of relief in knowing that he was unharmed.
But then, I saw it.
Scars, old and dry and withered, daubed all over his brawny back like doodles of a child who could barely draw. They painted a story of
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