Page 77 of Biker's Collar: Property of Scrap

I think of everything except Darlene’s body. It makes me sick to think another man touched what was once mine. She looks like aghoul to me and the bruising doesn’t help. Her thighs are fucked up. Her arms. Everywhere I could hit without hurting the baby.

“You look beautiful,” I say to her. If my lie gets any longer, I won’t be able to pull it off.

She looks so damn appreciative for the compliment. Was it like that with the other man? The man she laid on her back and had this baby for? She confessed everything she did and it wasn’t just once she laid with this motherfucker. What I feel for her is nothing more than pure hatred. I can barely hold all my hatred back.

Her ass presses into the table and she spreads her legs. The smell is something fierce. I know I should be cleaning her more, but it’s a pain in the ass and it doesn’t matter as long as I can ignore the rank smell.

“I can’t wait to feel your big dick,” she says. “None of the others had a dick like yours.”

I turn her voice into a wasp buzzing in the back of my head. She won’t be human for long.

“Let me tie you up.”

I can’t bring myself to call her a pet name. I can’t bring myself to think anything good about her. I watch her stomach moving as she lies on her back. She holds her arms up, preparing herself for me. I have rope for the task that Oske uses for cows or sheep or whatever animals she has grazing a few acres away from here.

Darlene must have some of the same brains as those sheep because she gives me her hands and I hear that fucking wasp buzz buzzing away with her dirty talk until I have her nice and secure on the dining table. I step back and out of her line of sight. I don’t want her neon eyes glued to me while I think about how to approach this.

I need the baby to survive.

That’s the most important part of everything going on right now. Keep the baby alive.

“I’m gonna need to keep you quiet.”

I wrap up a white rag and Darlene eagerly opens her mouth. I don’t make eye contact with her. Once she has the rag in her mouth, I kiss her forehead. Throwing her a bone.

“Good…”

I can’t even finish the sentence. Good girl… She’s more like a dumb bitch. I move to the other side of the table where she can’t see me. Maybe I should strap her head down. I don’t know. My heart races because I’m new to this and I don’t want to fuck up. I stand between Darlene’s legs, looking at the part of her I need to work on before returning to the kitchen to grab my tools.

She sucks air in sharply when I pour rubbing alcohol over her stomach and skin. Working with a sterile white cloth and latex gloves on my hands, I rub every inch of her flesh clean that I’ll need to have cleaned up. The cold rubbing alcohol must tickle her. Those last sensations of life tingling across her skin before I slaughter her.

Doc, I wish you hadn’t died. I wish you hadn’t left me with my demons. I kept fighting as long as I could, but I done lost the fight.

I balance the scalpel in my left hand, ready to make the first cut. I’ve dressed a deer with Jairus and Jotham. This is a little different. A lot different. Once I can get my hand to make that first cut. This would have been easier if this bitch hadn’t shot my good arm.

That will make this a hell of a lot more complicated.

Prayer will make this easier. The Lord is my shepherd… I repeat the psalm to myself as my hand hovers over her. It’s goingto hurt. I don’t want to give her anesthetic. I put my hand on her thigh to hold her down. I wish I had something to drink. That would make my hand steady.

Slowly, I draw the scalpel across Darlene’s skin, doing it just like the video said, making a not-so-deep cut about six to eight inches long beneath her navel. Darlene flips the fuck out once she feels the blood gush out. It takes a second — like even her fucking body is confused. But she gets it. And she acts like an animal.

The loud groaning noise gets sucked up by the white rag in her mouth. I use a towel to get the blood that seeps out of the cut. Left-handed. I have to do this shit left-handed. She can’t fight, but she tries and I have to wait a few seconds for her to freak the fuck out and numb out from shock, lying still on the table restrained.

I cut through skin, fat tissue and her abdominal muscles, ignoring Darlene’s painful reactions. It’s a medical procedure. I’m saving the child. Saving the child from a load of fucking bullshit. The videos tried to prepare me for the blood, but there’s just so fucking much.

But I see the piece of her I’m looking for and my heart swells. That’s her fucking uterus. It’s the goddamn uterus! I watched these videos a thousand fucking times, I swear to make sure I could see it properly. Wiping the blood off on a fresh towel so I can get my best control of the scalpel, I make a small incision in the lower part of Darlene’s uterus.

Buzz, buzz. She’s crying. Screaming. It’s the worst pain she’s ever felt. I have to make it worse. Using blunt forceps — Oske uses them on her sheep — I widen the incision and then I see it. The baby. I feel choked up and weird, like there’s two versions of Ruger Blackwood in the room.

Then something strange happens. I hear Doc’s voice clear as a fucking bell.

“Get that baby out, Bucky. Stop fucking around.”

I know Doc is dead. I know this shit ain’t possible, but if it weren’t for Doc’s voice in my head, I might have passed out from the blood and the gore of Darlene’s body spread out all over the dining table. By the time I cut the uterus, she suffers so much blood loss that her movements and fight have dripped down the sides of the dining table.

I have to get the baby out. Now.

Boy. I was pretty sure that she was pregnant with a boy. It’s what I imagined I was doing – saving a little boy from Darlene. Saving a little boy from becoming a fuck up like me.

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