Just Keep Running (Bulldogs MC #2) [Featured]

7: I Always Felt Watched

^^ Pest ^^

It's deja vu. I sit there holding my coffee, watching the ripples as I blow, and the guys are waiting for me to talk. Only this time Smiler's arm is around my shoulders and I can feel him playing with the ends of my wet hair.

"I met him about a year after you left," I start, bringing my eyes up to meet Skids'. "I was seventeen, Dad was his usual self. I'd gone downhill and just stopped caring. He made me smile when no one else could." I think back to those days and wonder how it all went so wrong. "He was great at first. Spoiled me rotten, said all the right things. I felt special. I don't really know when it changed. He started getting possessive. It was nothing big at first, just grumbling about people looking at me, or thinking people were trying to flirt with me."

I take a deep breath and shuffle in my chair. This is awkward as hell. "He started getting paranoid. He thought all my male friends wanted me and slowly cut me off from them. Then he started saying that my female friends were trying to set me up with people. They went too. He started choosing my clothes for me. My choices were too revealing. Or slutty. He hated my tattoos. They reminded him of my life before him. He wanted to report the artist for giving me tattoos underage, but it was only because he knew I'd been sleeping with him. I told him I didn't know his real name or where he was. He didn't believe me but I never gave in to it. If I spoke to anyone, I was a cheating whore. He deleted all my social media, said I didn't need it. I only needed him. He smashed my phone and said he had his, we didn't need two." Oh god, I'm shaking so much I think I'll bounce out of my chair. They're all silent, just listening. Half of me is grateful, and the other half just wants one of them to say something, anything.

"He brought a friend round once. He seemed nice, normal. I offered him a coffee and when I went into the kitchen I was grabbed from behind. He told me that if I was going to whore myself out to his friends, he should at least get to watch. I didn't get it, I'd only been polite and offered his friend a coffee. He dragged me to the bedroom and threw me on the bed. His friend was there waiting and he locked the door behind him, leaning against it. He watched the whole time. I begged him to help me, to stop it. He enjoyed it. The more I fought and cried, the more he liked it. Both of them."

There's a crash behind me and I realise that Smiler isn't next to me anymore. His chair is on the other side of the room in pieces and he's standing behind me, fists clenched and his whole body shaking. He takes a deep breath and leans down to kiss the top of my head before walking out of the front door. Skids takes my cup and I realise my coffee has gone cold. He grabs my hands and squeezes.

"I tried to report him after that. He and his friend told the police it was a consensual threesome, and now I was regretting it because I'd liked it rough and was ashamed. It was two against one. They believed the majority. I was locked in the flat after that. He took all my clothes and burnt them so I couldn't run. Wouldn't even let me wear underwear. He started bringing more friends round. Sometimes more than one at a time. I didn't bother fighting. I didn't want them to enjoy it more. I stood up to him once. He told me it wasn't abuse 'cos he never hit me. I was so worn down I believed him. If he went out he locked me in the bedroom, naked. I was allowed a thin sheet to sleep under. One day he went out and didn't come back. I waited for days, locked in that room. Eventually, a friend of his came round. After he'd finished, he told me that he was locked up. They'd all gone out and got drunk. Ended up in a brawl. He had previous for fighting so he was going down. He made a deal for eighteen months. His friend told me he'd be back for me the next day. Said I'd stay with him until he got out." I look up at Skids. His face is blank. I manage a weak smile which he returns.

"His friend forgot to lock the bedroom door. I waited until the middle of the night and wrapped the sheet around me. I managed to make it back to Dad's. He opened the door for me but he was so drunk he didn't know what was going on. I ran up to my old room and grabbed what clothes I could fit in a bag, I got my passport and stole dad's bank card. You remember Gary?" Skids nods. Gary worked for the council. I can't remember what department it was, but he'd helped Skids when he was divorcing Sandra. "I went to him. He hid me in his attic while he sorted stuff out. He got me a visa for here, said he had contacts. He paid for the plane ticket. I drained dad's account. There was only a couple hundred but it helped. A week later I was on a plane to New York. I kept moving around. Grabbing what work I could find, sleeping in shelters. I found Sammy there, he'd been abandoned at one of them. I moved between cities, but I always felt watched. So I decided to try a smaller town and ended up here. You know the rest," I shrug.

It's quiet. Too quiet. I stand and go through the front door. Smiler is there, and from the pile of cigarette butts at his feet, I'm guessing he's been chain smoking since he came out. I take the lit one from between his fingers and take a long draw of it. It's disgusting, but it helps. I hand it back to him and we stand there in silence. I don't think either of us knows what to say. His hand reaches for mine and I lean my head on his shoulder. He flicks his cigarette and leads me back inside.

We sit back at the table and someone hands me a glass of whiskey. I down it and am handed another. I make this one last a bit longer.

"How did he find you?" Jay asks. I look at him confused. "Your brakes on your car were done before you came to us. He knew you were in town before he contacted the sheriff."

Oh. He's right. The sheriff was just for confirmation. I hadn't put it together.

"I don't know. He always said if I ran, he'd find me no matter where I went. I thought I'd be safe out of England and was just being paranoid. I guess he was right. It took him six months to find me, but he did."

"You told the sheriff eight months," Skids says.

I smile. "I said about eight months. I exaggerated."

"Why?" That's Jay.

"The habits of hiding I guess. It didn't work though," I shrug like it's not a big deal, but we all know it is.

"So he's out in a couple of months?" Jay asks. I nod. "Which prison is he in?"

"Chelmsford, I think," I try to remember what his friend had said but most of that night is a blur.

Jay looks at Philly and he nods. I look at them confused. "He's not the only one with contacts darlin'. And accidents happen in prisons all the time."

I shake my head and go to stand. Hands on my shoulders stop me and I look up to see Banjo. I feel bad that I didn't notice him before. "That won't work. His men will never stop. Not until either they've got me or he tells them to. And he never will."

"Oh, he will darlin'. Philly's contacts can be very persuasive. Maybe we'll give him a taste of his own medicine." Jay winks, and a shudder goes through me. I choose not to think too hard about what he means by that.

They all look hopeful, even excited at the chance of stopping him. But I can't bring myself to feel the same. I can't feel anything. I wonder if the emotional numbness is just a side effect of my breakdown, or if this is just life now.

Skids stands up and walks towards me. "We've got some more guys coming in the next few days. The clubhouse is on lockdown. You're safe here until it's over."

I nod and try to believe him. I haven't felt safe in five years. I'm not sure what it feels like anymore. I feel a flicker of hope try to ignite in my gut and extinguish it immediately. Hope is dangerous. It gives you something to lose. I wonder if this shell that I am now is the real me. Have I been putting on a front for the last few weeks? Joking and laughing with the guys, was it real? Or is this current me the fake one, the temporary one? Either way, this is me for now. I'll deal with which one is real and which one isn't later. When it's over. One way or another.