Page 42 of What Lies Within

The swish of Rae's knees as she obeys, followed by heavy footfalls from Sweetie, before I catch the rip of zip-ties applied to my best friend. "How long?" I ask.

“I’m sure you can work that out,” Sweetie sasses.

I can, but I don’t want to believe it. I often thought of our lifer as a surrogate mother in those years after the witch left. Shit—the woman bought me my first pack of tampons. “Why, then?”

“You know well as I do that the club ain't no place for a woman, least of all a woman without a man. Got to get ahead any way I can now that he's gone."

“Who’s gone? Your old man?” Rae asks. “Is that why you don’t have a name on your back?”

“Jesus,” the older woman drawls. “You ain’t the brightest fucking crayon in the pack, are you? No wonder the men went straight for you. Bet you believe all the bullshit they tell you, huh?” She mutters more to herself, moving toward the door, “Naive little bitch.”

“Fuck you.” I snap my head in her direction, glaring at the traitorous slut through the blindfold. “Don’t you dare.”

“Dare what?” she snaps. “Call her what she is? Bitch walks in here on your coattails and within weeks has herself not just one Connell man, but two.”

"Bet that ripped your saggin' panties right in two, huh?" I grin. "How many years you have been tryin' to get into my daddy's bed, huh?"

“Wouldn’t you love to know?” She chuckles. “He sure didn’t mind when I sucked his fuckin’ dick, but there ain’t no place for a woman in his bed. Oh no. Kept that bitch seat sacrosanct too. Turns out I was just too old for him, huh? Prefers his pussy barely out of nappies.”

A heavy breath eases from Rae, the hint of a growl at the edges.

“Sure gonna win his favor now,” I quip. “Dumb cunt.”

The strike sends me sprawling onto my left shoulder, head pulsing with the impact. Not that I have time to wah about it when she takes a fistful of my knotted ponytail and hauls me to my ass.

"Should cut your fucking throat right here, right now," she snarls, spittle hitting the shell of my ear. "Nobody needs you anymore. Not now that I have the golden goose over there."

“Can’t get my daddy,” I say. “So, you try for the next best thing—my uncle, huh?"

She releases me with a shove. I get back to my knees, taking the opportunity to move closer to Rae.

“What the fuck do you want out of this?” my best friend asks. “Why turn your back on the people who’ve been there for you through thick and thin?” When Sweetie doesn’t bite, Rae continues. “Because that’s what the patches on your back mean, right? Your old man left, died, whatever, and the club kept you on. Made your their property so that you can live under their roof, under their protection, all without having to whore yourself out like the lesser girls, right?" She's so accurate that it hurts. "And this is how you say thank you for that."

“Thank you?” Sweetie hacks a laugh. “For being a goddamn slave to their needs and whims? I may have a roof over my head, but I don’t have freedom. I’m tied down by their rules. Their archaic, misogynistic rules.”

“Then hand in your patch and leave,” I say. “Nobody’s stopping you.”

"I'm fifty-two years old, Maddie." The hurt is apparent in her words. "I'm too old to start over, to get myself a house, a career… a man." She sighs; the scrape of the chair legs tells me she collapses onto the seat. "I'm fucking stuck in this world, and you girls will be too if you don't get out now."

“They’re my family,” I state. “There is no getting out. Theyarewhere I belong. What I am.”

"And how about you?" she asks Rae. "Can't tell me you don't have doubts in that head of yours. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here now."

The pause places a fist around my heart. "It's natural to have doubts," Rae says carefully. "Everybody is afraid of something, and for a few of us—you included, it seems—being unloved is one of those things."

Sweetie snorts. "I don't want to be loved. I'm too old for that shit. I want to beseen.”

“And the club did that.” What is her fucking issue?

"As chattel," she snipes. "Sure. Ain't nobody in that place care about a woman's humanity, I can tell you that. We're a warm place to stick their dick and somebody to put a warm meal in their belly. That's all."

“Maybe for you.” My heart hurts a little for her. She genuinely believes the things she says because she lived it—once. “Things are different since Daddy became President. You know that. The life you talk about is what it was when Granddaddy was in charge. That time’s passed, Sweetie.”

The silence stretches on, our breaths the only sound in the barren room.

"Making a friend out of me won't change anything," Sweetie finally says, rising from her seat given the changing cadence of her voice. "Fox already knows she's here."

“There’s still time,” I urge.

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