MC Sinners Boxed Set #1-7

~CHAPTER 6~ | PAST

~*CHAPTER 6*~

PAST

I feel a set of hands tugging my pants, and I jerk upright. My forehead slams into someone else’s and I yelp. It takes me a moment to realize where I am and what’s happening. When I do, I realize that some filthy client is trying to crawl into my bed and score some off me. I blink rapidly, gripping my pants and trying to gain some control. It’s hard when you’re only sixteen, and you try to fight off a man twice your size and age. The stranger grunts, and grips my hands, trying to force them above my hand as he positions himself over me.

“Get off me!” I cry.

“Paid for service, going to fuckin’ get it,” he slurs.

He’s drunk. That’s not uncommon; a lot of clients are drunk. A lot of clients are twisted and fucked up. Let’s face it, if you’re normal, you don’t need to pay the scum of the earth for sex.

“Get off me,” I repeat, shoving and squirming.

“Be five minutes, I paid good money.”

“Then I’ll give you your money back,” I protest, trying to raise my knees up as he shifts his body, pressing himself between my legs.

“Stupid whore in there already spent it, so I guess you better give me what I need.”

“Fuck off!” I cry, biting down onto the closest piece of flesh I can get my mouth around. I think it’s his shoulder. It makes me want to gag.

He roars, and then he slaps me so hard my head spins. As he moves though, I bring my knee up and kick him hard in the groin. When he stumbles off the bed with a hiss, I leap up, flicking the lamp on. I’ve learned how to deal with clients like this, who decide I’m the next best thing if they aren’t serviced by my mother. The first one I ever had, came at me when I was fourteen, I didn’t have the experience then, and he raped me. I learned quickly after that. There’s only one man that gets away with it now, and that’s Jasper. The only reason he gets away with it, is because he’s our lifeline. Without him, we’re on the streets. Pathetic, I know.

I get off the bed just as the man is rising off the floor. It shocks me to see he’s quite well groomed. He’s wearing suit pants. Okay, they’re not expensive looking, by any stretch, but it’s still a suit. He’s got salt and pepper hair, and is quite well built. Before he can lash out at me, I drive my foot into his nose. The sickening crunch, followed by blood spurting is a familiar sound and sight for me. He roars in pain as blood flows down his face.

“Little fuckin’ bitch,” he bellows.

“Get the fuck out of my house. You’re not the first pervert to try and get into my bed, and you won’t be the last. I will cut your dick off if you try and touch me ever again.”

He crawls towards the door, and blood drips in a trail on the old faded carpet as he goes. When he gets to the door, he turns and looks at me. He’s panting, in both pain and anger. He covers his nose with one hand, and uses the other to support himself.

“Whore,” he growls.

Then he crawls out the door. The word has my body trembling. It’s the one word I can’t deal with, no matter how many times I hear it.

It’s the one thing I never want to be.

And yet, sometimes, I wonder if it’s inevitable.