Page 23 of Beautifully Wounded

As I rise up, he helps me onto his lap, and gestures for me to climb down out of the cab, which I do to see the others waiting.

“Remember. She’s not here. If she’s found…” Ringo doesn’t finish, but they all nod before he closes the truck door, having climbed out behind me. “Let’s go.”

Ringo sidles up beside me, wrapping his arms over my shoulders and squeezing me close, as the others fall in around me, making a barrier as we start to walk.

I do exactly as Ringo asked of me, keeping my head down, my eyes on my feet, having no idea of our surroundings, other than the old concrete path that turns into a paved red brick path.

We come to a door, and the others part so we can step forward, Ringo unlocking it with a key.

“Head inside. The bathroom is at the back of the suite if you need it. I’ll be right in.”

When he urges me to step inside, I do so reluctantly, my eyes scanning the space he calls a suite, which is nothing more than an oversize motel room with a bed, a small kitchenette, one of those old brown round tables and chairs, and a tattered old couch sitting in front of a TV.

It reminds me of something out of an eighties movie. Dark woods. Green carpet. Creamy coloured walls that were probably once whiter.

The door closes behind me, and I spin in panic, scared I’m being locked in, but notice it’s still slightly ajar, and I can hear Ringo talking in hushed tones to the others outside it.

Calm down, Abbey. He said he’s trying to protect you.

I want to trust him, but everyone I’ve trusted has betrayed me in some way, making it hard to accept that this stranger doesn’t have an ulterior motive.

He wants to have sex with you.

Ugh. I tip my head back, annoyed with my inner voice. I’m so sick of feeling like this. Always in flight mode.

I’m just so exhausted.

There are noises coming from either side of this room. Muffled noises that resemble a loud TV, some music, and someone clearly having sex.

Oh, my… This is a seedy motel. I already know that, but is it like one of those motels that hookers work out of? I know the Foxy Pine Motel in my town is known for that. Not that I know for sure, but I’ve heard my mum talking with her church friends, signing petitions to get the place shut down.

She's such a prude. Why can’t she just mind her own business and stop forcing her religious bullshit onto everyone else?

Needing to pee, I sigh and move to the rear of the suite, noting the wardrobes no longer have doors on them, making it look like a walk-through wardrobe as I round the corner and reach for the bathroom door.

I’m sopreoccupied as my eyes latch onto the black leather vest hanging next to me with the words Southern Sadists MC on it that I don’t hear what I’m walking in on until it’s too late.

A gasp lodges in my throat, my eyes widening as I see a man, covered in tattoos, completely naked as he thrusts his… appendage into a naked woman’s mouth as they stand in the bathtub shower.

“Oh, fuck yes. The more the merrier, sweetheart.”

His voice is a strangled laugh as his face contorts painfully, his eyes raking over me while he grips the woman’s head and forces her hard against his crotch, choking noises coming from the woman as she struggles to push free.

“No!” I squeak loudly as the man roars in pleasure, and I stumble back through the door, crashing into a chest behind me. “No!” I yell, my eyes wide as I see a gush of vomit spew from the woman’s mouth around the man’s… thing… and I gag.

With my arms flailing, I try to fight, try to push away the danger at my back.

“Fuck!” Ringo’s voice meets my ears as he releases me with a shove to the side, dashing past me and into the bathroom. “Get the fuck out, Brody!”

“You brought a toy.” The man, Brody, singsongs, laughing.

“You didn’t have to hold my head, Brody.” A woman’s voice whines as she gasps for air. “I wouldn’t have moved. I told you I could last.”

As the woman’s voice floats out to me, I cringe, sinking backwards into the wardrobe space with the hanging vest as Ringo comes charging back out to the mouth of the wardrobe area. His furious glare directed towards the motel room door.

“JD, get the fuck in here!”

“Bring the girl back in here, Ringo.” The man’s voice, who I assume is Brody, floats from the bathroom. “Stop being greedy. Sharing is caring, you moody fucker.”

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