Sanctuary

Chapter One

"Faggot!" The crashing of glass bottles against a wall echoed throughout the house. Jake scrambled away, having barely managed to dodge the flying bottle. The source of his terror charged at him, swaying and reeking with booze. "You useless piece of shit!"

Jake surged to his feet and ran for the door, only to cry out in pain as a silver pocket knife slashed his cheek. He stumbled backwards, knocked then to the floor by another bottle to the back of the head. Slowly, he crawled away, tears of pain and terror falling down his cheeks. His parents- no, his parents were long dead, these bastards weren't his parents -towered over him. They glared down at their adopted son, hatred and loathing for him emanating from them in waves.

"You're nothing."

"You're worthless."

"Stupid faggot!"

"Worthless! Useless!"

He should have gotten used to it by now. It was a daily thing, a constant in his life. It was never this bad though. A few punches, slurs and a few slaps, that was the norm in this hell house. But this, this was different. For the first time he truly felt afraid for his life. They were going to kill him this time, he knew it. He could see their intent in their eyes. Taking the chance he scrambled to his feet and ran, trying to ignore the sounds of pursuit behind him. Someone grabbed his hair and-

"Hey!"

Jake jerked from his trance, looking up at the waitress impatiently waiting for his order. He blushed, cringing away from her glare. "Umm, beer please." He murmured, sighing in relief as she walked away. He sank back in the dark booth, exhausted.

He had been on the run for weeks now. Barely seventeen years old, running away from his old life and hiding out in a dingy bar in the middle of some hick town. The owner had barely looked at his hilariously fake ID before letting him in and Jake had gone directly for the darkest booth in the back of the bar, wanting to be alone and to avoid unwanted attention. He had already gotten some very nasty looks thanks to his appearance. Apparently the locals weren't fond of teenagers dressed in black, or boys who wore dark makeup. He just wanted some peace and rest before trying to find an alleyway to sleep in for the night. Was that so much to ask?

Jake curled up in the booth, grateful for the ability to hide the tears that were threatening to fall again. He had escaped that hell he had once called home, only to run...where? It seemed like no matter where he went, it was all the same; the stares, the whispers, the outright slurs and the violence. He was a target, just for being different. At school, he'd had no friends. There were only the bullies, teachers and students alike who called him horrid names and took it upon themselves to "cure the queer" by beating the shit out if him whenever they could get their hands on him. No matter where he went, he was judged, hated...

Why did he even bother living anymore, when his life was nothing but pain?

He was jerked from his melancholic thoughts when the bar door slammed open, drawing all eyes to the newcomers. Jake's eyes widened as a group of four, three young men and a young woman, waltzed into the bar, confident and powerful, acting as though they owned the entire place.

The first one to enter the bar was the tallest, a reasonably thin man in skinny jeans with rips exposing pale flesh and inked images spiraling out of sight, torso covered by a black leather jacket with an odd symbol stitched on it. The heavy looking boots he wore added a few extra unneeded inches in height, making him even more intimidating. His short black hair was brushed to one side, the side of his head shaved. His deep gold eyes were outlined in deep black and three lines going from the corners of his eyes, down the side of his face and neck before coming together at his collarbone. Jake shrank back in his seat.

The second sauntered in close behind the first, also clothed in black. Tight leather pants encased his legs and his torso was bare, exposing the OUTLAW tattoo arching over his tanned stomach and the colorful sleeves down his arms. This one wore black cowboy boots and a hat to complete the ensemble, his black glossy hair resting over his shoulders. His caramel eyes were lined with kohl, and black paint smeared from just above his jawline down his neck and down his chest like bloody handprints down a wall. A wide grin stretched across his face, filled with mischief and sin.

Next was a woman, the third was a bit shorter than her friends, but no less menacing for it, her short black hair spiked in all directions. She too wore black leather and jeans, pale skin exposed through the rips and holes. The same symbol was stitched into her jacket. The thick black boots she wore made loud clomping noises on the floor of the bar. Her face paint sent shivers down Jake's spine. Harlequin diamonds on each eye dripped into tear tracks running down her face, the trails reaching down to the black jester smile painted over her mouth. Tattoos peeked out from her jacket sleeves and swirled across her chest, and one behind her ear was faintly visible. Piercing green eyes that seemed to see through you made the look all the more creepy. Jake felt like this chick could suck his soul out through a bendy straw if she wished.

When Jake's eyes rested over the last member, his breath caught in his throat. The last bounced through the door, a dangerous grin on his face. Like the others, he dressed in black leather, a vest covering his tanned chest while his pants clung to his skinny, but toned, legs. Jake could see that his deep brown eyes were lined with black, painted lines spiralling out from them in every direction. His wild black hair fell to his shoulders, kept back by a black bandana. He was absolutely gorgeous and Jake immediately felt ashamed for thinking so.

Great, just great, he was ogling at some gothic biker. Good going, Jake.

The group grabbed a random table, shoving away the former occupant without a glance or an ounce of hesitation, claiming their territory and laughing in amusement as the man scrambled away, slurred mumbles escaping him as he was swaying from drunkenness. They blatantly ignored the glares and the dangerous looks from the less than exemplary bar patrons. In fact, they acted like everyone in the bar was beneath them, not worth one bit of their attention.

Jake regretted coming here. These people were dangerous...very dangerous. He may have been nervous around the patrons, but this group absolutely terrified him. Something told him that something bad was about to happen. A sinking, seemingly irrational feeling that he may not leave this bar alive.