by M. N. Forgy
“I don’t have it,” I grunt, pulling myself up using the stool.
He turns quickly and backhands me. Staggering back, I somehow remain on my feet, my ears ringing loudly from the contact. I clutch my smarting cheek, heat and pain claiming the delicate flesh as I glare at Grant.
“Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” He turns and smiles a Cheshire grin. Holding his arm up, my eyes land on his hand clutching the collar Travis used to put on me; the one in my shoebox in my closet. My eyes widen and my lungs seize to breathe as I see it.
“What’s wrong? Bring back old memories?” he taunts, stepping toward me, unbuckling it. “Travis told me the things he would do to you in this, brag about it even,” Grant continues, he reaches forward, and slides his fingers along my neck where the collar would imprison me.
“Please, no,” I cry, trying to pull away, but he grabs me by the hair violently. I pull my hand back slapping him across the face as hard as I can. Immediate anger flashes in his eyes as my palm burns from the harsh contact. He thrusts his arm forward to grab hold of me, but I quickly side step him, running around the island in search of anything to protect myself.
“Unless you want to bring pain upon yourself, you will get over here and do as I say,” Grant speaks slowly, his voice reminding me of Travis. In fact, Travis spoke those exact words to me before. My body wants to obey out of fear, the scars on my back a reminder of what would happen if I wouldn’t do as I was told. Fighting the urge, I close my eyes. Bobby instantly appears behind my eyelids, his blue eyes looking at me with longing.
My hair is yanked back, my eyes snapping open. Before I can react, my face is placed against the counter with force. The cool vinyl is fixed around my neck, and I hear it lock into place. My eyes well up with tears as my past rears its ugly head. Everything I have ever tried to forget is happening all over again. In sheer terror, I hyperventilate, my body shivering and struggling to breathe. Once more, I close my eyes, remembering Bobby holding me along my neck as he brought me to pleasure. I exhale a shaky breath as I replace all the painful memories with moments filled of pleasure, calming myself in the process. The look in Bobby’s eyes as he held me. Every sexual encounter I had with him. Every look Bobby ever showcased, now clear as day. Bobby has always loved me and I love him. He was right. I’m just afraid of being hurt; I’ve been trying to protect myself.
“Don’t fear the pain; fear the message behind it,” I mutter. Grant growls in frustration as he grabs my hair with both hands bashing my head into the counter once more, this time knocking me into complete darkness.
Bobby
I stop halfway down the street and pull the cut out from under the seat. I clench my hands into the leather, my teeth gritting with anger. If I leave, Jessica won’t call me for weeks, possibly ever. She will do everything in her power to ignore me and purposely distance herself from me. I fucked this up. I should have never said anything. I should have never allowed myself to get to this point. But I did, and what I said to her was true. I throw the cut onto the seat next to me and turn the wheel. I stomp on the pedal and drift into a complete circle, heading back to Jessica’s. I can’t let her get away, and I can’t give up that easy.
Driving into the parking lot, a red minivan flies out, running over the sidewalk, and nearly clipping the bed of my truck.
“What the fuck, man?” I yell out the window of my door. The guy in the van slowly turns his head, his eyes menacing and lip curled as he stares at me behind the driver’s side window. He looks familiar, but I can’t place where I know him from. Then again, I come across a lot of fuckers who look menacing, being a part of the Devil’s Dust and all. I park my truck and run up the stairs to Jessica’s apartment. As I get closer to her door, I notice it’s open, and there is blood spotting the floor. I slowly push it open and see the apartment’s trashed, resembling the club's break in.
“Jessica!” I yell, running into the apartment. I race into Jessica’s room, bathroom, and Addie’s room, but I don’t find her. I close my eyes trying to think, trying to calm my racing thoughts. That guy in the van popping in my mind, the way he was driving that minivan like he stole the fucking thing. The way he looked familiar. He had to have had something to do with this.
I look across the hall, and run toward the apartment door placed adjacent to Jessica’s apartment. Jessica told me her babysitter lives right across from her. Maybe she is over there. Maybe the sitter heard something.
I pound on the door rapidly, not faltering until it is swung open.
A black-haired college-aged woman opens the door, her hair in pigtails and thick glasses on her face. “What the hell?” she snaps, eyeing me pissed off.
“Is Jessica in there with you?” I question, looking over her shoulder.
“No, she went on a date,” the girl replies, looking at me suspiciously.
“Bobby!” Addie hollers excitedly from the couch.
“Hey Hun. You both stay in here. Lock the door. Don’t come out of here, do you understand me?” I yell, pointing at the babysitter. Her eyes widen, fear written on her face. “Do you understand?” I roar, slapping my hand against the doorframe trying to get her attention.
“Yes,” she peeps, her eyes filling with tears. I turn and run down the stairs.
I jump in my truck and race in the direction the van went, hoping I can catch up to it.
Jessica
My face burns and stings where my forehead was slammed into the counter. I try to open my eyes, the muscles in my lids resisting. I notice the worn out seat beneath my arms, and the hum of a motor around me. I’m in a vehicle. Sitting up slowly, my head swims with a fog. My eyes land on the blond in the front and it all becomes clear. Grant. The van swerves, throwing me into the side of the window with a loud thump. Grant looks in the rearview mirror, his eyes locking with mine.
“I will shoot you in the head if you try anything,” Grant threatens, tapping the steering wheel with the barrel of a gun. I nod in understanding, and sit back in the seat. I can barely breathe with the fear rushing through my chest. The thought of dying today is too much to bear. I don’t have what he wants. I never went and met with the lawyer to finish the last of the details.
“I don’t have the money, Grant. I haven’t signed the papers yet,” I tell him, trying to make him understand I don’t have anything to give him. My hands tremble with terror, causing me to fidget with them.
“Bullshit,” he scoffs, running his hand under his sniffling nose. He looks in the mirror and furrows his brows in anger. His eyes make me wince in my seat. He’s fucking crazy. No matter what I say, he won’t care. He has Travis’s blood in him making him a part of the sadistic gene pool.
“You better get it by tonight then, or I will kill you. I’m not playing games,” he yells, clearly agitated.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, looking out the windows, trying to get an idea if there’s a way to escape or scream for someone to hear me.
“When I came here, I watched you. Saw you hanging with that biker guy, so I followed him. Which led to a motorcycle club. That is when I pieced it all together,” he replies, ignoring my question. “You killed my brother, you had some gang kill my blood, and you’re the reason my parents told me to go to hell, that if I were more like Travis, they wouldn’t feel so worthless as parents. You, it’s your fault!” he screams, shaking the steering wheel in a fit.
I look down at the floor, the gravity of the situation becoming clear. Grant is going to kill me tonight. Even if my luck pays out and he doesn’t kill me, if I manage to pay him and he lets me live, he thinks I had Travis killed. He’ll run back to his parents playing the good son, telling them what happened. The authorities will take the club down and I’ll never see Bobby again. I close my eyes tightly, Bobby’s words of how I was just scared to love seeping through my mind. How I use excuse after excuse of why I couldn’t be with him. He was right. I’m just scared of loving him, scared he will get tired of me, just like Travis did. But he’s
not Travis. He was never Travis.
I blow out a steady breath, contemplating the thought of the authorities taking me to jail, taking Addie from me. I lived cautiously all these years, never doing anything to bring attention to myself, trying to stay away from danger the best I could, and for what? The very past I was running from to come and show me I wasted my life in fear and pain. I have to do something. I can’t go out like this. I can’t let this happen. Looking up, I watch Grant ranting about how much of a bitch I am. He’s distracted. Lifting myself off the seat, I dig my bare feet into the floor for leverage. I mentally prepare myself for what I’m about to do, knowing it could kill me.
On a slow exhale, I push myself forward, flinging myself into Grant’s lap. Hands grasping the gritty steering wheel, I jerk it to the side so the van whips to the side violently. Tires screech loudly as we become airborne, the motor sounding with a loud hum as we take flight. Everything slows while in midair. Fast-food bags and plastic bottles toss around as we tilt. Releasing a breath, I blink; time resumes its fast pace. The van slams to the ground. Everything that was in the air, falling down with it.
Violently, I’m jostled to the ceiling and then to the floor over and over as we flip down a hill before finally, my body strikes to a sudden rest. Every part of me aches and my neck throbs from the harsh whiplash. I cough and wheeze trying to pull air into my lungs.
Eyes firmly closed, my face winces from little wet droplets hitting my cheeks. Prizing my eyes open, I discover I’m outside the van. I was thrown out at some point. I slowly roll over, looking for the van. I find it just a couple feet from me. It’s hissing and smoking, crinkled like an old soda can slammed up against a large boulder.
A loud creaking noise draws my attention to the opening door; it’s barely hanging on its hinges. Adrenaline races through my heart when Grant falls out of the door, coughing and groaning. I turn and start trying to crawl away. My body is tense and sore from the wreck, making it hard to move.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Grant laughs. I whimper in an attempt to move faster.
Forcing my achy body to cooperate, I push onto my knees trying to stand and run, but one of my ankles is pulled back, slamming my chest back on the ground. I turn and find Grant’s bloody hand latched onto my leg. His head is bleeding profusely, drenching one side of his face in a thick red ooze. I grab at the grass, trying to pull myself from his grip when I notice a black crowbar feet away, no doubt fallen out of the van. Survival. The word slams into my mind. It’s my only choice if I’m to survive. I look back at Grant who is laughing at my weak attempt to escape, the vinyl collar restraining my neck, reminding me I’m still wearing it. I grit my teeth and bite my lip. I can do this. I flip over on my back, sending a shockwave of pain shooting through my bruised body, and use my other leg to slam it into Grant’s balls. He instantly lets go of my ankle and I surge forward, seizing the cold steel with one of my hands.
“Bitch!” Grant curses angrily. I look behind me just as Grant grabs my arm, flipping me over to look at him. As he pulls me, I swing the crowbar, slamming it against the side of his head. The sound of metal and bone makes a chilling sound. He stills and his eyes roll in the back of his head as he lets go of my arm, falling to the ground. A sob racks from my mouth as I pull away from him, watching his head bleed out from the gash the crowbar inflicted.
Knowing it’s either him or me, I regain my focus and try to subdue my sobs as I crawl on my knees over to him. Pulling the crowbar over my head with shaky hands, tears blur my vision. I take a deep breath and slam it down on his head again. His face that resembles Travis’s looks back up at me. All the pain he caused me, the way he talked to Addie. The first time he physically hurt Addie all reel in my mind like a horror movie. The pain. Torture. Belittling. All fogging my head in a haze of uncontrollable anger.
I scream loudly as I thrash it down onto his skull again. I lift my tired arms to hit him in the head one more time, but can’t muster the strength. I can no longer feel my hands, my limbs in general. Everything is numb. My instinct to survive is the only thing I can feel; it’s pounding in my brain so hard I can barely see straight.
“You can’t hurt us anymore,” I sob quietly, falling onto my hands, panting.
Tires screeching at the top of the hill catch my attention. I freeze wondering if I should run and hide, but know I have no choice but to remain. My body is shutting down.
“Jessica!” Bobby’s voice is a balm to the chaos around me. I look toward his voice and watch in relief as he runs down the hill.
“Bobby!” I cry, my body releasing its tension.
He sprints all the way down the hill. His unbuttoned black shirt flapping against him.
Ignoring my frozen limbs, I clamber to a stand and stumble toward him, the crowbar still in my hand.
Bobby smashes into me painfully, wrapping both arms around my frame, and tucking my head into the crook of his neck.
“Bobby, I love you,” I cry, holding my bloody hands out to the side, nuzzling my face into him more. Bobby pulls me closer, resting his nose just above my ear.
“You were right. I was just scared. I am scared,” I mumble into his shirt.
“I love you, too, Jessica,” he whispers.
He pulls away looking me over warily. Glancing down at myself, my white dress is splattered with specks of blood, my hands covered in back splatter from hitting Grant with the crowbar. I look like a psychopath.
“Fuck,” Bobby whispers, running his hand along my bicep. I turn and look at what he is staring at. My eyes catching my upper arm with a shard of glass sticking out of it.
“Don’t pull it out. It will bleed worse,” I warn. I can’t even feel it, so I know it’s bad.
He reaches down my arm and grasps the crowbar still in my hand, taking it. He rounds me and squats near Grant.
“He’s Travis’s brother,” I quietly say, stepping up beside him.
“That’s why he looks familiar. You did a number on him, Jessica,” Bobby remarks. He reaches forward, and rolls Grant over, applying his hands to Grant’s neck looking for a pulse. “He’s definitely dead,” Bobby informs, dropping the crowbar to the ground.
“I had to do it. He pieced together I hired the club to kill Travis,” I explain, defending my actions. Bobby shrugs, glancing at me.
“I would have killed him for nearly hitting my truck,” he adds seriously. “I think you had a pretty good reason to do what you did.” Bobby stands up, and walks over to me, tucking his arm behind my head.
“What the fuck is this?” Bobby whispers, his fingers pulling at the collar still wrapped around my neck.
“It was Travis’s. Grant put it on me,” I mutter, trying to take it off anxiously. I know with Bobby here I’m safe, but the idea of being a prisoner in this collar is suffocating.
Bobby curses under his breath and turns me, his hands sliding over my shoulders to the clasp on the back of the collar. It makes a loud noise as he unbuckles it, the clicking noise resembling a locking mechanism on a cage. Goosebumps rise all over my body as a heavy breath leaves my mouth. I turn around, my eyes glazed with emotion, finding Bobby eyeing the collar with anger.
“I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you again, Jessica,” Bobby promises, pulling his arm back as far as he can and throwing the collar deep into the distance; it quickly merges into the darkness of the night.
Sirens suddenly catch my attention at the top of the hill, along with tires screeching to a halt.
“Oh, shit, what do we do?” I ask nervously, eyeing Bobby in fear.
“Freeze!” A cop screams, pointing a gun in our direction.
14
Bobby
“Shit,” I whisper.
The scrawny cop tripping down the hill I recognize as Skeeter. He’s as dirty as they come. He used to be paid for his scum ways by the club, but he got greedy wanting more under the table than he deserved. When he didn’t comply, he tried to blackmail us. So we flipped it around on him, making him look like a fucking f
ool to the police force. He has been out for us ever since.
“Jessica, this is all me,” I mumble, causing her to turn and eye me with confusion. “Don’t tell that cop a fucking thing except Grant kidnapped you. When I found you, he attacked me, and I reacted. That’s it,” I inform her.
If the hospital gets record of her killing someone whether it is self-defense or not, her career will be over. I watch her body tremble with fear, her dress and body covered in blood. Blood. Shit, I don’t have near enough on me to convince anyone I did this. I look up the large hill and see Skeeter and another cop trailing down it slowly, focusing on their steps rather than me.
I lean down and grab the crowbar, and slam it into Grant’s lifeless body, causing blood to splatter all over my hands and clothes.
“Get on the ground, Bobby!” Skeeter yells, just feet away from me now. I run my hand up and down the crowbar quickly, trying to erase any prints Jessica might have left behind. “Get on the ground!” Skeeter repeats, pointing his gun and flashlight right in my face.
I hold my hands out as I slowly kneel, the crowbar still in my hand.
“You too, get on the ground,” Skeeter shouts at Jessica. Jessica drops to the ground and puts her hands above her head. I smirk. Jessica looks good as an outlaw.
“Leave her alone,” I encourage as I lower myself to the ground fully.
“Shut up!” Skeeter shrieks, kicking me hard in the shoulder, making me hiss.
“That was uncalled for, don’t ya think?” I grumble, staring up at Skeeter who walks over to Jessica. Another cop finally makes it down the hill and strides to me, huffing and puffing out of breath.
“I called it in. More are on the way,” the fat bastard wheezes.
“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Bow,” Skeeter replies, eyeing Grant’s body.
“He’s got a weapon,” Bow informs Skeeter.
Skeeter looks over at me and scowls. “Drop it to your side, Bobby. Don’t try anything stupid or I’ll shoot you where you’re lying,” Skeeter threatens, pointing his gun at me.
