Rage is the residential psycho of the club. Tormented by his own demons he lives in pain and agony, a constant state of rage. Everyone knows him as the Hellhound of the Riders of Tyr , known for his cruelty and the joy he gets from causing pain. To...
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Rage
A woman is standing there. Not a woman, more of a girl. She has a small, petite figure, a hood over her head and her hands in the pockets of her baggy jeans. She takes one step in and all of the guys in the bar turn to her. It is noon so a few of us are there. Stig is in the computer room, Vince has just woken up sending away the bitches he fucked last night and is drinking his coffee at the bar. Behind the bar there is a prospect – thrall as the club calls them - and I know Tor is in the King's office. The woman walks in and I see she is a young girl, a little bit too slim and scrawny. I can't see much down her hood but for some reason I can't get my eyes off her.
"Can we help you with anything, darling?" Runner gets up.
"I...uhm..." her voice barely reaches me.
I put the bottle down and frown. There is something in that voice that makes my skin crawl. That woman is scared. She is downright terrified and this has nothing to do with her being in the den of an outlaw motorcycle club. She is scared deep inside, she knows no other thing than fear. It is in that voice, in the way she bears her body. I know how that is. Fuck me but I know. My hands go straight for the holster I have my knife in. The minute I touch the handle, the agitation in me calms.
"I am here for the job." the girl says timidly.
"Oh, good." Runner says and beckons at the thrall "Call Tor."
The thrall leaves quickly and vanishes in the hallway leading to Tor's office. I wrap my fingers round the hilt of the knife just to feel the safety the weapon provides. Why I need to feel safe in my club, surrounded by my brothers all because some skinny bitch walked in I have no idea. I just feel the agitation flood me, making my insides burn as if there is a blazing stick poking them around, making more flames as it does. I can't keep still so I get up kicking back my chair. Vince turns to me scowling, making his scarred face even more frightening. Both the brothers look at me as if I am to go up in flames any minute. And that is exactly what I am afraid of myself half the time. The other half I just wish that I do go up in flames. And burn down to ashes at last.
"You OK, brother?" Vince gets up anxiously.
"Rage?" Runner pulls closer.
I barely listen as I run my fingers through my hair repeatedly. Shit! It is happening! I feel the rush come over me, I hear the pounding in my ears and the tight pressure on my chest is getting stronger. I groan deep in my throat.
"Bror." Vince demands.
I hold my knife tightly biting down, feeling my jaw lock tightly. My eyes see red and my thoughts get mixed badly. I knew it was going to be a bad day and I know I have to get out from the bar quickly. The brothers. The brothers are used to seeing me act like crazy. But the girl...
At the thought, my eyes turn to her. She is holding her hood and the moment I turn to her she pulls it down. I pause. It is only for a moment but it does happen. For one brief moment everything just...pauses. It takes me one moment to look at her but it is enough. She has dark hair, long, as far as I can tell by the thick, clumsy bun she has gathered them in. The black hoodie she is wearing is too big for her and the zipper is open letting the black, worn-out t-shirt show. The damn t-shirt is torn in various spots and leaves her belly button exposed. She has a pair of oversized jeans that fall low below her slim waist. All items of clothing seem as if they are meant for someone else, not her. But that is not what catches my eye. That is not the reason everything stops for one single heartbeat. It is her eyes. Her fucking eyes! She has a pair of great grey eyes that dominate her little, bony face. And she is looking at me. She is fucking looking at me with those fucking eyes.
