The Saints' Devil

XXXII

When Charlie had awoken she didn't bother trying to figure out where she was. She figured it was an abandoned warehouse on the opposite side of the world, or a box in the center of the universe for all she knew. She was tied to a chair in the center of an empty room, her wrists tied behind the chair and her ankles tied to the legs of the chair. 

There was only one single steel door that led in and out of the room, there were no windows or holes or vents. One single light hung above her head, buzzing continuously and slightly flickering once someone walked upstairs past the room she was in. 

She didn't know how long she'd been there. When she first woke up she tried to struggle, tried to rip her arms from the tight restraints but nothing would budge. After days and hours of trying, she simply...stopped. 

A few men would come in and forcefully tilt her head back and pour water down her throat, them they'd force feed her bread and beat her when she bit their hands. Her head pounded constantly--she probably had a concussion at this point--and her lips were dry and bleeding.

Today, however, someone worth waking up for came waltzing in, her eyes immediately burning with rage.

"Oh, don't look at me like that little sis," Fury said, one of his little mutts pushing a chair in the room for him. He sat down, straddling the back of the seat and staring at her smugly. "You're gonna break my poor little heart."

"You disgusting pig," she seethed, wanting nothing more than to lunge at him and rip his face off. "What the fuck else do you want? How much more bullshit are you gonna pull?"

"Oh, the bullshit is never ending, sis," he said, laughing hysterically. "You don't seem like you're in the mood to talk to me, shall I bring someone else in?"

"Go to hell."

"That's not a nice thing to say to your brother, Charlie."

She froze as she caught sight of the man who was the source of her childhood trauma and present anxiety. A ball formed in her throat and she tried to scoot away but he grabbed her chair with one hand, his other hand grabbing the back of her head and pulling it back, forcing her to look up at him. "I don't get a 'hey dad, I missed you so much'?"

"I wish you had died," she seethed, his other hand shooting up to grab her jaw tightly causing her to wince in pain.

"Now, I want you keep that little mouth of yours shut," he said quietly, a disgusting glint in his eyes. "I'm gonna tell you bout your mama, you must be overflowing with questions."

He removed his hands from her and took the seat Fury had once been sitting in and looked her in the eye, smirking at her. "Melissa McKarter, what a woman," he began, the sound of his voice like poison to her ears. "I met her when she was a teenager and she was a feral woman. She had the mouth of a sailor, the body of a goddess and the freedom of an eagle."

"Get to the fucking point," she snapped.

However, the instant she did he had pulled out a switch blade and pressed the sharp metal against her cheek, his glare burning into her. "Keep your mouth shut or I'll carve you like a pumpkin."

She bit her tongue as he dug the blade in her cheek, dragging it down and slicing a perfect cut just above her jaw. 

"It was like any teen romance, we met in high school. I was a jock, she was a delinquent. She set fires in the bathrooms, smoked at the back of the school, fought with other students and teachers. She was a wild one. We had detention together once and--well--you can guess where it led to," he continued, twirling the switch blade in his hands. "We dated for a couple years and then she came out and suddenly told me 'my dad owns a biker club and I'm gonna be announced President next week'. By then, she already had you two and we were living together so boy, was that a shocker."