Page 1 of Protecting Siena

Have you ever felt so alone that no one would even notice that you were gone? No? Well aren’t you fucking lucky, me not so much. I grew up on the bad side of town, where all the drug dealers and gang bangers lived. I spent part of my childhood scared of what could happen to me, and the rest of it trying to protect myself. My parents were druggies and didn’t give a shit about me. They used all the money they got on drugs, and forced me to steal to make sure we ate at night.

In all the years of living in that house, I never once thought about leaving. I knew that it was my home, and I knew that there was nothing anyone could do to change that. Sure, you’re probably thinking to yourself that I’m wrong, or that someone could have taken me in, but it’s the cold hard truth. No one wants to adopt a teenager who has lived the life I have. Fuck, I don’t blame them. I’m sure that if I lived the life of luxury, I wouldn’t want some little punk kid from the streets ruining my perfect life.

When I turned seventeen, I finally got away from the life I had lived before. I worked random jobs until I could save enough to get the fuck out of there and not turn out like my useless parents. I hope they rot in hell since they never gave a damn about me anyway; why should I care what happens to them now.

Sure it’s taken a few years, but I’m just glad to finally be as far away from them as possible. At twenty-five, I can finally rest easy knowing that they won’t come looking for me, not that they would have when I was seventeen.

When I finally got to Las Vegas, Nevada, I found a shitty ass hotel that looked just about as bad as the neighborhood I grew up in. I didn’t even care how run down this place was, I just needed a bed and a shower; something that I haven’t really had the luxury of for the last few months. Hitchhiking from Chicago, I’m surprised I even made it this far.

Checking in under a fake name, I grab the key from the old man up front and head towards the bed that’s calling my name right now.

Making my way around the corner, I see a dude sitting on his bike just watching a drug deal go down. I wonder what he’s doing. Maybe he’s a nark and he’s just waiting for the moment to arrest them. I keep making my way to my room when I get a look at the back of his vest. Wayward Saints MC - Las Vegas, Nevada.

I never really had any conflict with a biker gang before, but I wonder why he’s in this shitty ass place. Before I walk into my room, I watch him look up at the room at the top of the stairs before taking off. The answer must be behind that door.

Walking into my small ass room, I survey the contents. I have to make sure that I know where everything is and what I can use in case someone breaks in. You never know what can happen.

After I check everything out, I lock the door and drop my bag on the floor next to the bed. Pulling out some of the clothes I bought in the last town, I make my way to the bathroom, and start the shower. Once the steam fills the room, I strip down and get in to wash away a week’s worth of dirt and sweat. Washing my body and scrubbing the filth off myself makes me feel ten times better. Washing my hair that has been caked in oil and dirt for the last week is one of the best feelings in the world.

Once I am clean and damn tired, I get out and towel myself off. Pulling on a pair of sweats, I run the towel over my head and throw it over the shower rod to dry. Making my way back into the bedroom area, I drop my body on the mattress and reach over to grab a knife from my bag. Once I get it under my pillow I am able to relax a little.

Closing my eyes, I listen to the sounds that are filtering into my room from the street, and the sounds of a couple banging each other’s brains out in the room next door. A few minutes later, the noises go away and I drift off.

The sound of banging on the door next to mine startles me awake. It’s bright and sunny. Looking at the clock, I see that it’s around noon already. I must have been more exhausted than I thought.

Getting up, I look out the window and see a burly man standing there, waiting for someone to open the door. Going to my bag, I pull on my shoes and a tee shirt. As I walk outside, I see that the dude looks pissed, and is about ready to kill the other man that’s inside the room with, what must be, the big dude’s wife. I never understood what these fuckers where thinking cheating on their spouses. Why the fuck would you even be with someone unless you’re going to give it the old college try?

Turning the corner, I see a set of stairs and make my way to them. I saw a gas station a few blocks down, so I might as well get some snacks to hold me over for a little while. When I make it to the door that the biker was staring at last night, I see him walking up the steps towards me.

He stares at me, and looks me over before he passes me.

“Hey kid.” The biker says from behind me.

Stopping dead in my tracks, I turn and face him. “Yeah?” I ask. Although he doesn’t scare me, I would hate to be on the other side of his anger. He walks over to me and stares me in the eye for a second. “Aren’t you a little young to be here by yourself?”

Laughing, I look him up and down. “Aren’t you a little too old and clean cut to be hanging out at this hotel?”

He smirks and smacks my arm. “I like you. Where you from?”

“Chicago.” I grumble. I don’t really want to make small talk with him but I know he will probably think I’m on the run or something.

“What the hell you doing out here?” He asks eyeing me.

Looking him in the eyes, I give him a straight answer. “I left home when I was seventeen. I grew up on the shitty side of town, and my parents were druggies. I didn’t want to follow down their path, so I did what I had to and left without looking back.”

He watches me but doesn’t say anything. He nods his head. “If you ever need anything, come find me. I need to fuck my girl and get to a barbecue, but look me up if you need something. I’m Dom, and you can find me at the Wayward Saints compound. If I’m not there, then one of them can find me.” All I can do is stare at him. Why is he being nice to me?

“Why?” I ask.

“Because I like you kid. I don’t want to see you fall down the wrong path because of who you meet in this fucking town. Trust me, this place will swallow you up and spit you back out without so much of a warning.”

“Thank you.” I reply, reaching out my hand to shake his.

“Any time, kid.” With that he walks over to the hotel room and knocks. When she doesn’t answer, he pulls out a lock pick kit, picks the lock, and walks inside. Before he closes the door, he shoots me a wink.

Laughing, I make my way down the stairs and out to the sidewalk. On my way to the store, I pass by a few groups of kids, and a couple gang bangers standing on the corner in front of the mini mart. After making my way inside, I try not to pay them any attention. I grab some chips, a sandwich, a couple bottles of water, and a few candy bars, and head to the cash register. Once I pay for my stuff, I grab the bag and make my way back to the hotel.

Once I make my way up the stairs, I can hear the moaning from the girl that the biker must be fucking. As much as I want to catch a glimpse of the girl that he’s got behind the door, I make my way into my room and shut the door behind me. I kick my shoes off, take a seat on the bed and lean back against the headboard. Flicking the TV on, I search the channels for something remotely watchable. Grabbing my chips, I start to shove them in my mouth, and take a swig of water before opening my sandwich.

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