“Daddy isn’t going to save you now, baby,” the vile man in front of me snarls as his hands roam my naked body. I thrash around and scream into the cloth that covers my mouth. I know my father is coming for me.
He has to come… he promised, and he never breaks a promise; especially for his Angel.
My father is the President of the Angel’s MC. He always says that I’m his Angel since my mother died after I was born. She was in a chemical accident while she was pregnant with me and that caused her to give birth a month and a half early to me: a purple haired, green-eyed baby girl.
After seventeen years, my father’s rival found a way to kidnap me.
My seventeen-year-old-self tries to move away from the evil man’s touch, but he’s too strong. His grip on my hips tightens, and I whimper, making him laugh. He looks down at me with a glint in his eyes, “Time for our fun,” he whispers, sending repulsive shivers through me. He removes the cloth from around my mouth, and I scream as he thrusts into me.
“Oh yeah… scream for me,” he grunts, thrusting into me. My innocence is ripped from me again as he continues his assault, ignoring my protests. My sobs and cries fill the room as I scream for him to stop. My pleading falls on deaf ears, and he continues, grunting in pleasure. “Oh yeah, baby. Oh- oh yeah,” he moans, and I can feel the vomit coming up. I push it down because I know that it will only make things worse.
The man tenses up and tightens his grip on me, yelling out as he reaches his climax. Tears fall out of my eyes, even more, when he pulls out of me. He stands above me and smiles down at my broken and used body. “Thanks, baby, I’ll be back soon,” he tells me, pulling his pants up. I whimper and sob as he leaves me in the dark, cold room.
“Daddy, please,” I beg quietly, looking up at the small window on the wall, “You promised,” I whimper, letting my head hang. I’ve been here a week or maybe more…. I can’t even remember. They’ve beaten me, tortured me, and now he’s raped me for the fourth time.
I’ve tried to stay strong, but it’s hard… it’s getting harder. I want to stay strong like I’ve been taught, but…. I don’t know how much longer I can hang on.
The door that closed moments ago re-opens with a loud screech, pulling me back to where I am. Another man stands there, but he’s got a large t-shirt and some shorts in his hands. I haven’t seen him before, but it doesn’t matter because I scramble as far away as my chains will let me. Some of my amethyst purple hair falls into my face, covering my emerald green eyes. Quickly, I hold my hands up to cover my naked chest, and I bring my legs up, trying to hide my lower regions.
The new man holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says softly, his Scottish accent calming me a bit. His eyes hold kindness, unlike any of the men I’ve seen here. I back up until the chains pull painfully at my wrists, causing me to whimper. He stops moving and slowly lowers to the ground, sitting down, “My name is Axel, most people call me Wolf, and I’m here because your father sent me,” he says, making me perk up a little.
“M-my dad sent you? Why didn’t he come?” I ask, fear creeping up in me. The man has light brown, almost blonde hair and blue eyes. He sighs and places the t-shirt in front of him, “He’s coming soon, but he sent me in undercover, so I could get you out, Angel,” he tells me, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
He kept his promise.
“D-do you have a k-key?” I stutter, holding both of my hands up, but not enough to show my breasts. He digs into his pocket and pulls out a small silver key, raising my hope even more. He looks me in the eyes, not letting them roam my body, and slowly moves forward. This time, I allowed the man to get close, and he immediately goes to work on unchaining me.
The chains fall to the floor with clanks, and he hands me the clothes, “Your father and his men should be coming any minute, and when they do, you run. Do you understand?” He asks. I nod and pull the shorts on. He gently helps me to my feet and wraps his arm around my waist, “Can you walk on your own?” He asks, his accent thick. I unwrap his arm from my waist and take a step.
My steps are slightly shaky, but they’re stable enough to go on my own, “Y-yeah, I think so,” I tell him, and he opens the door a little. Suddenly, the sounds of gunshots fill the upper area, and I jump in surprise. Axel turns to look at me and hands me a gun, “I’ll cover you, but you have to run. Get to safety,” he orders, his soft exterior going hard in a millisecond. Instantly, I realize something, “Wait, you’re not coming with me?”
“No, Angel. I’ve got to keep the prospects and the men off of you, but don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,” he says, kissing the top of my head before he motions for me to go. I rush out of the room, making sure my gun is loaded and ready to shoot if I see anyone that doesn’t have the Angel’s patch.
As I run, I can hear the violence and the shooting all around me. I run as fast as I can up the stairs and halt when I see the man who raped me pointing a gun at my father. The loud bang of a gun going off makes me scream. I watch as my father’s body falls to the floor and hits it with a thud.
“Hey baby, he’s gone, so we can be together now!” My father’s murder yells, making me look away from my father’s dead body. He stalks towards me and my breathing quickens. Remembering that I have a gun, I hold it up and aim at the man’s heart, “Big mistake,” I snarl, pulling the trigger twice, sending two bullets into his heart.
The bullets hit their target, and the man falls to the ground, blood pouring out of him. The life drains out of his eyes, and I let out a shaky breath.
I just killed someone. He killed my father. He almost killed me. He deserved it.
I kneel down beside my father and brush some of his hair out of his face, “I’m so sorry, Daddy,” I cry, tears dripping onto his body. I gather him in my arms and hug his bloody body to me. “I’m sorry,” I cry again, burying my face in his chest.
Suddenly, a hand grabs my arm and yanks me up. I scream when I come face to face with someone I don’t know. He smirks at me and starts dragging me away. I hit and kick at him, but it does no good. Again, I scream and out of the corner of my vision, I see someone run into the room. “Let her go!” The Scottish accent yells, making me look up in hope. Axel stands there, pointing a gun at the man.
A loud bang fills the room and the man holding me collapses. “Axel!” I yell, running to him. He hugs me to him in a protective way, “You’re okay, lass. You’re strong,” he tells me, then looks down at me, “I need you to run. More men are coming. Run!” He yells the last part and nudges me towards the door.
With a body shaking sob, I run out of the warehouse. There’s nothing left for me. I run across the grass, my bare feet getting wet from the dew on the little green blades. My feet pound the ground as I run. The damp grass proves to be slippery when I step wrong and fall. Quickly, I get back up and keep running.
Glancing back, I look just in time to see the building blow up. The impact wave from the explosion knocks me to the ground, and I shriek in pain. My whole body hurts, mainly between my legs and my back. More tears spring to my eyes as I think of all the people in that building. I won’t be able to bury my father, and his men were in there. Axel was in there too, and now I’ll never see him again.
I’m alone. I have no one.
I wipe the tears falling on my cheeks and stand on my shaky legs. I have to find a way to get back to Hell’s Angel’s clubhouse. Looking around, I see a Harley parked on a side road.
I look around again but see no one and no other transportation. Since no one is trying to kill me right now, I limp over to the bike and smile when I find the keys. I take a breath and painfully straddle the bike. I whimper in pain as I sit and rev the bike. Quickly, I peel out of the area and speed towards where I think the clubhouse is.
Pulling up to the clubhouse, I see that it’s empty. The fact that I don’t see anyone confirms that all the men were all with my father when he came to save me. I park the bike outside and carefully climb off. My feet touch the ground, and I wince. Slowly, I walk into the eerily silent clubhouse.
I can’t stay here.
Slowly, as not to hurt myself, I make my way up to my room. The light blue walls are covered with pictures of my family and my father’s men. I push back the tears and walk into my bathroom for a shower. I shower quickly, washing my aching body. Blood and dirt mix together at the bottom of the shower, along with my tears.
After a long shower, filled with scrubbing and crying, I get out and wrap a towel around myself. My skin is red from all the scrubbing, and I stumble over to my closet. I pick out a pair of black skinny jeans and a navy blue tank top with my black leather jacket. My fingers brush over the Hell’s Angel patch, and I bite back the tears. I dress quickly and start throwing things into my bag.
I’m going to need money if I’m going to survive.
I leave my bag on my bed and run to my dad’s room. He always kept an emergency stash of cash in his bedroom. Pulling open his bedside table, I grab the large wad of money and the gun. I tuck the gun into the back of my pants and count out the money.
$6230. That’s enough to get me by for a while, and I can get a job. I’m taking the Harley that I found earlier because whoever owns it is probably not with us anymore. Going back to my room, I grab my bag and head out.
When I get out to the bike, I look at it. It’s a Black Heritage Softail Classic Harley. As I study the bike, I notice an inscription on the leather pouch. I bend down and run my fingers over it: Axel.
This is Axel’s bike.
Shaking off the sadness, I put my bag on the back and secure it. I search the bike and find a tracking device. Carefully, I pull it off and crush it on the ground. Once that’s done, I climb on and quickly drive away. I don’t know where I’m going, but for now, I head out of town. I need to get away from anyone who could recognize me.
After about five hours of driving, I pull into a small motel and park. I cut the bike engine and climb off. Exhaustion overcomes me as I step into the small lobby. The old woman behind the counter gives me an annoyed look as I approach, “I need a room for the two nights,” I tell her, and she clicks some buttons on her computer.
“That would be $150,” she says in a monotone voice. I pull the amount out of my pocket and hand it to her. I watch as she puts it in her register and then as she slides a room key to me, “Room 222.” I quietly thank her and make my way to the second floor. I trudge down the hall and stop when I find my room. Opening the door, I slide in and lock it securely behind me.
With a sigh, I plop down on the bed and let myself curl into a ball. Tears come to me immediately, and I cry myself to sleep.
Sunlight hits my face, making me scrunch it up. My itchy eyes open and I look up to see that it’s morning, or at least I think it is. My eyes find the clock on the wall and see that it’s almost noon. I stand and stretch my aching limbs. Before I can even blink, I feel a churning in my stomach and run to the bathroom. I throw myself at the toilet just in time to empty my stomach. After a second, I lean against the wall to rest.
“Oh, God, please no,” I beg, tears filling my eyes. I wipe the few stray tears away and pull myself to my feet. Going over to the sink, I wash my face and hands of the vomit germs. I splash some water on my face before straightening up. I look at my reflection in the mirror. My Amethyst colored hair hangs in my face, framing my green eyes and my bruised face.
I look horrible, and the fact that my eyes are red and puffy from crying doesn’t help either. Sighing, I leave the bathroom and grab the bike keys. I have to know. I need to go to a store.
Leaving the room, I lock it and head to the stairs. I quickly descend the stairs and jog over to the bike. When I straddle the bike, I’m reminded of the pain from yesterday. I let myself get re-adjusted to the bike before I drive away. The town I stopped in is small, so it only takes a couple of minutes to get to the store.
The loud roar of my new bike makes a few people stare as I pull up and park at the store. I ignore the stares and run into the store, looking around for what I’ve come for. My eyes land on the small white box and I snatch it up. I go to the counter, and the clerk slowly rings up my item, “$3.98,” he says, and I give him a five and tell him to keep the change.
Once I’ve paid, I rush out to the bike and speed back to the motel. I get there fast and run back up to my room and lock myself in. I follow the instructions on the box and then leave the bathroom. I pace around the room while I think. My heart is beating a million miles a minute as I wait the three minutes for my results. My timer dings and I take a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for the result. I slowly pick up the white stick and choke out a sob.
“Pregnant,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes. I drop the stick on the ground and crumble to my knees. I wrap my arms around my stomach and curl up into a ball in the corner of the bathroom, sobbing.
Why did this have to happen to me? I’m turning eighteen five months. My father and all my friends were just murdered. I was raped, and now, I’m pregnant! I don’t want a baby! I don’t want this baby!
The sound of my sobs fills the tiny bathroom as I think about this. I look down at my stomach, but no matter how mad I want to be, I can’t be. I have a living being growing in me, and it’s innocent. This isn’t the baby’s fault, it’s the man who raped me. I can’t blame the baby for what its sperm donor did.
I let my crying die down a bit before I undress and climb into the shower, allowing the warm water run over me. I rub my hand over my stomach, “I promise… I will protect you and love you, no matter who your father is,” I whisper as I stand under the warm, relaxing water.