We were going to meet. I made sure of it. I was swept away with the notion of being one of the notorious Tyrants to the point it became an obsession. I couldn’t eat or sleep. My days and nights were spent dreaming of the chance of a new life, the desire to experience a new world, one where I could express myself freely. At last, I had a purpose.
I found a job in a small cigarette kiosk in the shopping centre, perfectly situated. I could see the Tyrants without leaving my post. Nearly every day around 4.30 pm, Marcus, along with one or two of the others, would pass the kiosk. I guessed they were coming back from work. I think one of them actually bought some cigarettes from me, not too sure which one it was though. I made sure I looked dowdy; I didn’t want them to notice me, at least, not yet. I worked as many hours as I was allowed so I could afford the outfit I needed for my big entrance. A leather jacket was compulsory, and it wasn’t cheap. I had to be careful with my money. There was no way I was asking my dad for more.
Marcus had only one part to play, and that was to look at me. I would do the rest.
The gang was made up of twelve guys and three girls, so I knew I’d make a good impression. The girls nearly always surrounded Marcus. One, in particular, seemed to hang on to his arm, but she was nothing to look at. As far as I was concerned, I had no competition.
I wasn’t scared of the girls or the club’s reputation, yet the stories I’d heard would make anyone cringe. Knife fights, people being sent to the hospital, and even killed.
The Tyrants main rivals were the Vipers. I’d heard a rumour that there was going to be a big clash between the Vipers and Tyrants. Only that was supposed to happen over a year ago, but hadn’t. Both gangs had stayed in their own territory.
It was another Saturday, and that night, Sandy and Caroline were going out, giving me the perfect opportunity to put my plan in motion. I told them I had a date and would be going out for the evening as well. I waited until they left, then ran upstairs to change.
I took my time getting ready. Combing my long, red hair until it shone. It was my best feature. I’d been growing it since I was a kid. I stood in front of the full-length mirror and scrutinised myself. The black crop top showed off my large breasts and flat stomach. Most women would have to work out bloody hard to get a body like mine. I could never have afforded the tight, leather trousers if it wasn’t for the cash my dad had given me. I turned to the side and twisted my body so I could see my bum. Yep, pert. With the black stiletto pixie boots and the necklace, I wore, man, I was smoking hot! The black cord, where the snake pendant hung, matched the outfit perfectly. I smiled at my reflection and then turned and twisted to see that I looked hot in every angle. I took the new, smells – like - leather, jacket off a coat hanger and looked in the mirror and smiled. I looked seductive and tough and a perfect match for Marcus. I imagined making out with him and got butterflies doing somersaults man I loved the way that guy made me feel. And if my body responded to him like this when we weren’t together, I imagined what being with him, kissing, touching sucking would be like for me. I was eager to get there and put my plan in action, but first I had to do my makeup. I’d researched online about how to make the perfect smoky eye. I wanted to be noticed, but not stand out, face plastered with muck, like the bitches that hung around the guys. Hell, I had more class than them. No matter what they meant to Marcus, they would be forgotten when he meets me, at least that the way I planned it to go. I shook away the pretentious thought and started to apply my makeup.
I was excited but nervous. I’d played out the scene repeatedly in my head. I wanted to make an impression on Marcus one that he could never forget. Looking like I did gave my confidence a boost, but there was every chance something bad might happen. Weighing it up, it could go either way. The opportunity to meet them was too great to miss, and I was too psyched up to change my mind.
The city came alive at night. Although I was eager to get to my destination, I made sure to enjoy the walk. Were people really staring at me or was it my paranoia? The streets seemed busier than during the day. But it was the atmosphere, my first time soaking in the ambience of the twinkling bright lights, the distant beat of drums as the bars blasted out their music and the mixed aroma of world cuisines. I never knew places like this existed. Dumb like a blonde, well, naïve, I thought it was all specially designed sets for the cameras. Why the hell didn’t I explore the world outside of Layton? Why has it taken me this long to get the courage to leave?
I arrived at the subway at eight thirty, and although people were milling around or rushing off somewhere, no one approached the stairs. No one gave it a second glance. I wondered if the subway had closed for the weekend, and the Tyrants weren’t even there. That I had wound myself up and made all this effort for nothing. People stared at me while I loitered at the top of the stairway, plucking up the nerve to go down. I assumed they must have thought I was in the MC and by the way I was dressed, I could understand that. I smoked a cigarette, combed my hair, re-applied my lipstick, and then started my descent.
I was half-way down the stairs when I heard shouting and laughter. I knew it was the Tyrants. I took a deep breath and started walking. Their laughter stopped. The heels of my shoes echoed through the subway. They’d heard me coming. There was no turning back, and yet for a moment, I thought about fleeing. What the hell was I doing walking into an unprotected subway to eye up the president of the local tough gang? To top it all, I was dressed like a tart. They weren’t the kind of people you wanted to meet in a dark alley, so what was I doing there? A little voice deep inside told me to take the last step, so I steadied myself and turned the corner.
They were waiting, looking extremely hostile. Half of them were on their feet, the others lounged on a slab of stones (some sort of modern art). All eyes were on me. Their expressions turned to surprise. I kept my eyes fixed on Marcus, though he didn’t seem as shocked as the women. His face conveyed interest.
I continued walking down the path of the subway; I was nearly level with them now. I sent him a bewitching smile, hoping I would cast a spell on him, make him fall to his knees in adoration. He returned the smile. It was bashful, and then he looked at the floor and shuffled his feet before glancing at me again. When I was level to him, the other guys whistled and chanted.
“Hey, baby.”
“What you doing tonight, gorgeous?”
My walk slowed, my gaze intensified. I put my hands in my pockets, nudging my jacket out of the way so he could see the outline of my body. I wanted him to see it all. Oh, yeah, I was walking the walk. I was the ‘it’ girl, and it felt fucking good. My heart was hammering. I hoped I wasn’t blushing. I knew by Marcus’s gaze that his interest was aroused. He appraised me with his eyes, undressed me with his stare. One of the guys stepped forward, but Marcus stopped him with his outstretched arm. He kept his barrier up while the other biker pretended to struggle with him to get to me. It was amusing, and I laughed, sexily.
I carried on walking without taking my eyes off him. I saw the women whispering to each other, but didn’t take any notice of them. I gave Marcus another of my smiles, turned my head around, and walked away. I expected Marcus would call after me, or follow, then we would talk and the rest would be history as they say.
I stopped dead in my tracks and shouted Marcus’s name. A tense silence followed. Standing no more than ten metres from me was another gang, looking tougher and more vicious than the Tyrants. Their faces were cold and hard, and I knew instinctively that they were the notorious Vipers I’d heard so much about. They equaled the Tyrants in numbers, even odds there. Here was the greasy, long hair that I associated with bikers; even their code of dress was tougher. A couple of them wore chains attached to their jeans, and they all had an orange rag tied around one of their arms. Standing in a stance; one member was a few steps ahead of the others. I assumed he was the leader. He stood with his feet spread apart, arms by his side, his fists clenched. He wore his blonde hair spiked; only it was too long to be spiked and looked
ridiculous, but I wasn’t going to laugh.
He looked straight through me. Was I scared? Like hell I was. I was furious! They were going to fuck everything up. Why did they have to pick now to show up and settle old scores?
I’d frozen for what seemed like an eternity before I came to my senses. I didn’t know what to do. Should I walk past the Vipers and run for my life? Only I felt sure that would ruin my chance with Marcus. I turned around to face the Tyrants, every one of them was standing up, tensed, and ready. Marcus’s fists were clenched, his face hard with hate. They looked fierce and dangerous, and it scared me. Marcus motioned to me with his finger. It wasn’t a nice invitation, more like an order. He pointed to me, then to the ground beside him. Who was I to argue? Like an obedient puppy, I did what he wanted. It wasn’t how I imagined our first meeting, being in the middle of a violent clash between two feuding gangs.
He stared at me with so much hate in his eyes; there was no smile this time. I knew the animosity wasn’t directed at me, it was for the Vipers.
He turned and spoke to the women behind him. “Take care of her.”
Part of me didn’t want to leave.
“Be glad to,” one of them replied.
I should have realised by the tone of the woman’s voice what was going to happen. However, after exchanging eye contact with Marcus one last time, I was practically walking on air when they hustled me around the corner and slammed me against the wall.
They were about the same age as me. One was a curly brunette, the others blonde. They were attractive but wore far too much make-up and stank of cheap perfume. The force of their shove told me I was in trouble. I heard the yelling, grunts, and pounding of fists as the fight progressed around the corner, only it seemed I had a fight of my own to handle.
Two of the women pinned my arms against the wall, while the brunette pointed her finger in my face.
“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”
One of the girls removed a hand from my wrist and slapped me across the face. “Yeah, who the do you think you are?” The slap wasn’t hard enough to do much more than sting and piss me off. I glared at the brunette, took a good sniff and gobbed in her face. In return, the woman to my left let go of my wrist, grabbed a handful of my hair, and slammed my head into the concrete wall.
The brunette wiped the spittle off her face and walked up to me. If there is one thing I hate more than anything, it’s someone getting in my face. Her nose was almost kissing mine as she yelled at me, taunting me to throw the first punch.
“Feeling threatened are you, Monica?” I’d heard the other women call her name as they egged her on.
The top of our heads touched. She pushed forward, pressing my head against the wall. “You’re a cheap tart and you’re messing with the wrong woman. You stay the hell away from us, and from my man, you hear me?”
I pushed my head into hers, forcing her to take a step back. “Perhaps Marcus is tiring of a fat slag like you, at least, that’s the impression I got.”
She slapped my face, her rings slicing my cheek. A hot stinging sensation tingled, followed by a warm trickle of blood down my face. The other two shrieked with laughter. Even though my face was sore and hurt, I looked her straight in the eye. “That the best you’ve got?”
The two blondes stepped away; it was just Monica and me squaring off. I didn’t waste any time and charged at her.
My head rammed into her chest, but all it did was make her shuffle back and infuriate her even more.
“You’re fucking dead,” she screamed.
I didn’t have enough time to move. Monica’s fist landed full force into my stomach, and I dropped to the ground, doubled over with pain.
“Kill the bitch,” one of the other women yelled.
“Give it to her,” the other screamed. “She deserves it.” Her friends’ encouragement fired Monica up. She grabbed my hair and punched me in the face, not once but repeatedly. My head pulsed, my vision blurred, and I wanted to vomit. She stepped away to catch her breath. I was on my knees, willing my head to stop spinning. The funny thing was, I wasn’t afraid. Even though she could have pulled a blade on me at any time. I knew Marcus liked me. He’d given me enough signals to show his interest, and that made me feel like I had a claim on him. Monica was the intruder, not me. I wondered if Marcus knew what was happening. If he did, would he care? If I could get the fight over with, come out on top, I was certain we would be together.
I’d been in loads of punch-ups before. Usually, I’m a good fighter, but they had caught me off guard. When I finally caught my breath, I stood up shakily. I ached all over but wasn’t about to show it.
“You’ve got a nerve calling yourself his girlfriend. You’re weak. You’re not worthy of him.”
Monica came at me like a wild animal, only this time I was ready for her. I ducked her swing and threw a punch into her ribs. She backed away, startled, one hand pressed against her side. I hoped I’d cracked a few ribs. I wiped the blood from my nose and straightened up, even though it hurt. I looked at the other girls, who were staying back. Good, a fair fight.
“You want a piece of me, bitch? Well, here I am.” I signalled for her to come at me, which she did, only this time I got the first punch. Her head whipped back, and she used the back of her hand to wipe the blood pouring from her nose.
She flew at me, her fingers splayed like claws, screaming like a fucking banshee. I dodged to the right and kicked out. My thin stiletto heel dug into her shin, and as soon as she crashed to the ground, I dropped onto her chest and pinned her arms under my knees. I landed a few blows to her face and then stopped to catch my breath.
“You should get into shape, Monica. You’re getting too old for this shit.”
She glared at me. Her eyes widened and her lips pinched before turning into a broad grin. My skin felt as though there were creatures crawling all over me. She laughed, and I shivered. That cackle I will never forget.
“My turn,” she whispered viciously. “Get her.”
In an instant, the girls hauled me off Monica, and pinned my arms painfully behind my back. One girl grabbed my hair, forcing me to face her. I yelled as shooting pains travelled along my neck.
“Now you’re gonna get what you deserve, bitch,” she said.
I struggled to get free from their grip, but they were too strong. They slammed my face into the wall. My head thudded, and I crumbled to the ground in agony. The women ran back to Monica, who was just getting to her feet.
“You okay, Mon?” one of them asked.
***
I willed my eyes open. It was no good looking back to the past. What happened, happened, and I don’t think I would have changed a thing. It was fate. I was meant to be beaten up that night, and nothing I could have done would have changed that.
I vaguely heard other voices yelling, and the running of feet, then stillness. The last thing I recall about that dreadful night was someone kneeling over me and whispering.
“Jesus Christ.”
I tried to open my eyes, only they were swollen shut. Somehow, I knew it was Marcus. There was a loud ringing in my ears, and a sharp pain in my head as he lifted me up. Darkness came, and I drifted off. I tried to fight the blackness. There was no way I was going to die, not now. Not after I had seen my destiny, and met the man of my dreams. Could life be so unfair? I thought God was giving me a break. When I held one seed of happiness for the first time in my life, could it slip through my fingers so easily?
***
Back in Blexham, I wouldn’t have cared if I’d died. I felt I had nothing to live for, but not now. Please God, not now.
My damaged mind went back to happier times. Ha! As if. There was no happy time, and eventually it got to the stage where I thought what’s the point. I should never have been born. I wasn’t for this world. Another time, and place perhaps, just not now. I didn’t feel like I fitted in or belonged anywhere. I never had ambitions. What did I care about being rich or famous. All I wante
d out of life was to be happy and feel loved. Up until then, I hadn’t experienced either and predicted I never would.
I had it all planned.
That afternoon when I got home from school, I grabbed the vodka bottle from the bar and went straight to the bathroom cabinet. I took three bottles of tablets, and shut myself away in my room. Mum was still at work and wasn’t due home for a few hours, I hoped it would all be over by then. I wasn’t scared, and didn’t think twice about doing it. I looked forward to it. In fact, I couldn’t down the pills fast enough.
I’m not a religious person; all the same, I believe there’s an afterlife. Only I believe that all sinners, no matter how they’ve sinned, would go to heaven, their sins forgotten. Each would have to work their way up in stages. Their Hell was the hard work needed to finally be absolved. I knew that taking my own life was a sin. However, I didn’t believe I possessed a life, so I wasn’t taking much. Surely wherever I ended up had to be better than living this shitty life.
The only way out was to end it. I couldn’t breathe. I felt suffocated. I was going through each passing day being someone I wasn’t. Living a lie. I was confused about who I was and how was I supposed to act, live? I knew it was up to me to change things but at the time, dying seems the only way to end the pain.
I hadn’t taken any notice to what the tablets were; only I sensed they were starting to take effect when I began to feel drowsy. I couldn’t tell if it was the vodka or the pills that were making me tired. I just wanted to sleep and never wake up again. I laid back on my bed listening to Iron Maiden, the empty bottle still in my hand. My throat burned, my eyes were stinging, and the tears flowed. I wasn’t upset, and I didn’t feel sad. I remember feeling peace and tranquility. I was dying, and would finally be free.
In Times of Violence Page 3
