Bear lied to me?

Yes, Bear lied and I was a stupid little girl who fell for it. He never wanted to help me. He just didn't want me to tell on him.

"Can I at least talk to him?" I asked with one last shred of hope. It didn't matter that the ring that I'd been clinging to for seven years was a joke. I still needed help. "I just need to..."

"Bear isn't a Beach Bastard anymore. He took off his cut like the cunt pussy he is and walked out that gate because he's a coward. He's not a biker anymore. He's not a friend. He's not even a fucking man. Do you know what he is?" Chop asked, stepping back in front of me. I shook my head, frozen in place by his stare. "He. Is. Death. A dead motherfucker who just happens to still be breathing." He pressed his nose into the space between my neck and shoulder and inhaled. I cringed, and tried to pull away, but his big muscular body kept me trapped. "But I'm gonna fix that real fucking soon," he whispered, his hot breath against my ear made me feel like I was going to puke.

"If he's not here, then I should just go," I said, every internal alarm I had reaching deafening volumes inside my head.

Run. Run. Run.

I felt behind me for the door knob and when I found it I gave it a twist, but it didn't budge. "Locks from the outside," Chop said wickedly, his eyebrows jumping suggestively.

Grabbing me by the shoulders he threw me onto the floor. I landed on my side and pain tore through my ribs. Chop knelt down and straddled me, his thighs holding me prisoner on the dirty carpet. "He chose that motherfucker King over his brothers. And he's going to fucking pay."

"Let me go!" I wailed, writhing underneath him, trying to break free, but he was as stuck in place as the doorknob. I tried to beat my fists against his chest but he grabbed my wrists and twisted them painfully. "Please just let me go!" I cried out.

"Don't worry, little one. I'm not going to kill you. In fact I'm going to make sure one of the boys gives you a ride out."

"You are?" I asked, knowing that he wouldn't be on top of me cutting off circulation to my hands if his only plan was to drop me somewhere else.

"I am. Boys are going to drop you off first thing in the morning."

"Morning?" I asked, only half the word audible, the rest came out as a breathless whisper.

"Yes, morning. Because first we want to make sure that if Bear sees you that he knows that he's a dead man but anything he wants to keep breathing better not be stupid enough to step over onto this side of the causeway."

"Okay, let me go. If I see him I'll give him the message." I promised.

"No, you stupid girl. You are the message." Chop pushed my hands above my head with one hand and leaned down, biting my nipple through my shirt.

Hard.

I cried out and Chop sat up and laughed, admiring the fresh stain of blood on my shirt where his teeth had just been. "The brothers and I are gonna have some fun with you, bitch."

"Brothers?" I asked, or at least I thought I asked because Chop balled his fist and slammed it into my jaw, making me see stars. His smiling image above me flickered like someone was turning the lights in the room on and off. One second I saw him and the next second it was all black, although I knew he was there because the crushing weight on top of me never left. "He doesn't know me. He won't care. Don't do this. Please don't do this!"

Chop ignored me. "Wait until Murphy gets ahold of you. He likes to break little girls like you." Chop sighed. "When we saw you come in, I'd already promised him that I'd save your pussy for him, though I think a taste won't hurt." He sat back on his knees and just as I thought he was about to get off me, he flipped me over with one arm, my head crashing against the dresser. He pulled my wet shorts and underwear down my legs with one rough yank.

"No!" I screamed, kicking my legs out.

Chop used his knee to spread my legs and using one of his fingers he roughly forced it inside of me. I felt his too long fingernails scrape against my inside walls. I felt every ridge of his finger until his ring prevented him from going any further. "So fucking tight. Really is a shame that I'm a Bastard who keeps my promises to my brothers. You'll have to remind Bear of that when you see him." He pulled his finger out of me and my insides pulsed from the injury. I picked my cheek off the carpet and turned around to look at Chop who winked at me before popping his finger into his mouth. "You taste so fucking good, Darlin'. It's too bad we are going to ruin this little body of yours, because we could use some new pussy around here."

Chop unbuckled his belt and pushed down his jeans with one hand, still leaning over me, his one hand still keeping me prisoner. His enormous erection sprang free from his jeans and I turned my head back toward the floor not wanting to see what I was about to feel. I clenched my thighs and tried to push my legs together, but another blow to the side of my face stripped me of the will to fight. Replacing it with the dizzying image of the spinning room as my head landed against the carpet. I tried to lift my head again but my neck couldn't support it. My head was too heavy. It was too much.

It was all too much.

Chop released my arms when he felt the fight in me die, nudging my legs open wider with his knee. I felt his hot and heavy erection on my back. He whispered into my ear, his words beyond cold. Beyond callous. "I'm going to wreck this pretty little asshole of yours. I'm going in dry so this is going to fucking hurt." He ran his teeth down my ear, biting down on my earlobe. "But first a little test to see how tight this ass really is."

He pressed his thumb into me and pain shot up my spine over and over again like I was being stabbed. The further he pressed the more pain I felt.

The more jagged the knife became.

I used all the strength I had left to speak, "And you say Bear isn't a man, anymore."

"What was that little girl?" Chop asked, pressing further inside of me until I collapsed against the arm holding me up.

"You told me that Bear's not a man. It's you who isn't a man. You're nothing. You're fucking garbage!" I wailed as the pain intensified.

"Here I was nice enough to give you a warm up," Chop removed his thumb, but any relief I felt was temporary because he grabbed his shaft and pressed it firmly against the tight bundle of nerves he'd just finished injuring. "No more of that," I tried to mentally ready myself for the pain, but there was no amount of preparation I could do to be ready for what was to come.

He was going to split me apart.

I felt him start to push in, sharp stabbing sensation.

Then it was gone.

Chop was gone.

Glass flew through the air as the window exploded, shattering into a million pieces, coating every surface in the room, including my skin, with tiny prickly shards that stuck to me like little Chinese stars.

Spinning. The room. Everything was spinning.

Shouting, shuffling and banging sounded from outside the room. The door opened and slammed shut several times.

The solid floor underneath me disappeared and was replaced with swaying, bumping, and a slight vibration of a vehicle.

I pried open one of my swollen eyes. "Who are you?" I asked. Shadows concealed the driver. Rain pelted the windshield faster than the wiper could clear it.

"I'm Gus," he said flatly, with zero emotion in his voice.

"Hi, Gus," I sang deliriously, as the spinning returned. My head fell back against the passenger window.

Gus, the rain, the clubhouse, Chop, parents, everything started to fade. Further and further away until I was surrounded by nothingness. Delicious nothingness. I wanted to exist in it for as long as it would have me.

Living in a permanent state of nothing sounded like a good idea.

Maybe, this is what death feels like?

Was I dying?

I didn't know, and in all honesty, at that moment...

I didn't fucking care.

Blackness came for me. I didn't fight it. Closing my eyes I allowed it to swallow me whole, welcoming it to take me in. A part of me hoping it would keep me there forever. I never wanted to wake up to face the reality of what my life had become in such a short period of time.

It wasn't a life at all.

It was a nightmare.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Bear I wasn't wasted.

I was beyond fucking wasted.

A new word needed to be invented for the level of fucked up I was.

Twisting dark hair in my hand, I pulled back hard, eliciting a moan from whatever her name was who was licking my balls. Her friend, who had the same color hair, just shorter, rolled a condom onto my cock and sank down onto it.

The motel room was dark, the curtains so thick it could have been noon and I wouldn't have known.

Day, night. It had all blended together.

The place reeked of cum, sweat, and weed. There was no questioning what had been going on for the last however many days I'd been there.

Sleep was pointless because whenever I did fall asleep there was nothing restful about it. Which was partially due to the recurring dreams I'd been trying to avoid, and a lot-a-bit to do with the mass quantity of blow I was shoveling up my nostrils.

Did I come? How fucking sad is that?

Even sadder?

I didn't fucking care.

It didn't matter that there was two of them, there could have been two-thousand, all wet and ready to go, bent over and waiting, and it wouldn't have changed a fucking thing.

Whatever had happened, at least it was over.

I didn't even remember where I met the girls or even when, and I didn't know their names because I never bothered to ask. From the looks of them this wasn't their first rodeo. They may not have been club whores, but I could spot their type from a mountain top, and these girls had BBB written all over them.

I had the sudden and immediate urge to be left alone.

Now.

I lit a cigarette and tossed the lighter back onto the nightstand, watching it spin around and around until it fell off the edge. "Get the fuck out!" I snapped, waving my hand in the direction of the door, squinting to make sure I was waving at the exit, and not the bathroom.

Yup. Exit.

Nailed it.

Scurrying around the room like a cockroach after flipping the lights on, the short haired one searched for her clothes and shoes. Once she found what she was looking for she shook the shoulder of the other girl who was still on the bed, naked and on her stomach. "Clarissa, we gotta fucking go." She looked back at me and my expression remained hard. "Now, Clarissa, we gotta fucking go, NOW!"

Clarissa groaned and turned onto her side, clutching the sheets to her ample chest, "I'm fucking sleeping, Julie. Leave me alone. Grandma's not picking us up for church until twelve. I can sleep in today."

Julie kept trying to wake her friend, with no luck.

With each tick of the old clock on the wall I felt my blood beginning to boil. As the second hand approached click number ten it was like thunder in my ears.

I picked up a heavy glass ashtray from the side table and launched it against the wall, creating a basketball size hole in the sheetrock and a sound that exploded through the silent space like a tornado had crashed through the window. Ashes billowed from the hole in the wall, clouding the small space with the stench of stale cigarettes.

Clarissa leapt from the bed, alert and awake like she'd been up for hours. She grabbed her purse, and her sad excuse for a dress from the floor on her way out-leaving her shoes behind, and the door open. Julie was close on her heels as they both ran naked out into the daylight, which was so fucking blindingly bright that all I could see was white.

I guess that answers my question about it being night or day.

Swaying on my feet I got up from the bed, shielding my eyes from the light I stumbled over to the door and slammed it shut before turning back around and falling onto the hard mattress.

I ashed my cigarette onto the floor, and from state of the holes in the carpet I could tell I wasn't the first one. The half empty bottle of JD beckoned me from the side of the bed. Grabbing it by the neck I tilted my head back and poured the amber liquid directly into my mouth. I didn't bother to wrap my lips around the bottle in fear of slowing the flow of whiskey. I swallowed it down in huge gulps until my throat burned like it was on fire, and the bottle was empty. I let my head drop again, this time onto a pillow that smelled like pussy. I threw it to the floor and pressed my face into the bare mattress.

Well, you're handling this shit real fucking well Care Bear. My dead best friend said in my head. Preppy was as clear in my mind as he would've been if he were sitting on the edge of the bed. I'm one for a party but this isn't a fucking party. This is where parties go to die. This motherfucker is about to need one of those Pulp Fiction shots to the heart.

"Shut the fuck up, Prep. Aren't dead people supposed to be quiet? Because if so, you, my non-living friend, are failing at this whole dead thing," I said out loud.

Awe, it's so cute you think that being dead could get me to shut the fuck up. And I'm not fucking done yet, Care Bear. You were really mean to those whores and whores are like my favoritest people ever. Not cool, man. Not cool at all."

"I'll make a note of that," I said, as the room began to spin. I closed my eyes in an effort to make the spinning stop, but it didn't work. I kicked one of my legs off the bed and anchored my foot to the floor but my level of sobriety was way past that old trick working.

When I opened my eyes again not only was the room spinning even faster, but I could almost swear that I saw Preppy standing over me, looking down with a frown on his usually happy face, his bow tie swirling around and around growing darker and darker as black halos filled my vision.

I was seeing my dead best friend.

I was right.

A whole new level of wasted.

This wallowing in your own shit is starting to fucking depress me and I'm fucking dead!

It was the last thing I heard, or thought, or however this odd communication between my fucked up brain worked, before my vision became completely black and the darkness swept me under.

But even copious amounts of whiskey couldn't save me from the dreams.

I feel heat against my side so close it burns. I hear the fire crackle and when I open my eyes I can see the embers from the fire pop into the air. I feel the singe of my skin when one lands on the back of my neck.

I try to get up, but I can't. I can't move my arms either.

I'm on my stomach, laying across a set of cheap plastic lawn chairs.

I'm tied down.

Men, several of them surround me. They're laughing. Poking at me. Punching me in the face. Kicking me in the sides. At one point the chairs fall to the side and I go with them, positive I cracked a rib against the brick of the bonfire in the process. There is an order to set me upright, and it's done immediately.