The Anarchy Princess

20. Gasoline

Happy
~
I was seeing pure red, I didn't think a second thought when I grabbed Chibs. I just started punching, quickly and forcefully as my fists tore into his face. I had to be pulled off by three Sons. "YOU FUCKING IRISH BASTARD!" I yelled as the men dragged me away. He spat out blood. "Ring. Now." He ordered. I smirked intently on him being in bloody ruins laid on the mat. "Gladly." I rasped out at him. We had stripped down to shorts and mouth guards. Tape was being placed on his hands, as I had declined it. I wanted to feel his raw flesh on my knuckles. I would savor this fucking moment. He looked at me, such heavy emotion. I didn't care. He went against me. Me. I gave him a nod as he did the same and the punches had quickly started to fly.

Unknown
~
I got a call, as expected. "Has the fight started yet?" The voice asked. "Right on time." I replied, as I watched the men in the ring fighting each other, I was leaned against the entrance way to the rooms as I stood at a distance. "Good." They replied as they hung up.

EZ
~
I got to the Club, talking about what would go down. How we wanted it to. My mind would wander back to July. Was she safe, what was she enduring. Did I really want to know the answers. I sighed as I ran a hand over my face. "You good bro." Angel asked, I only nodded in reply. I was torn up. But I had to stay strong, for my brothers. I listened intently to the whole plan. My worry wasn't settled. Happy said he'd deal with it, but what does that even mean. "I'll deal with it." I thought as I mentally scoffed at his past words. My mind was flames, being ignited by gas.

July
~
My mind had carried me far away. I was void of all emotion as my body endured heavy, and painful wounds. "Scream for me." He whispered, I had grunted at the start of the torture, but had since stopped, as the pain became numb. I was wrapped up in EZ's arms. Safe, loved, warm. My mind felt like jello as I relished the feeling of him. I was laid on his bed, my back against the softness of his mattress, his hands were slowly enveloping into mine. I looked at him as he smiled. I loved his smile. His laugh. His voice. His lips. His hand had intertwined with mine as the other had found it's way to my hair. I looked over to him, he leaned down, kissing me softly, passionately. I never wanted the feeling to end. Yet, it did. I was yanked back into reality. A very harsh, cold reality. My wrists had been bleeding from being cut into, my toes had since lost all feeling from trying to hold up my body for so long. And still, here the man sat. His eyes held much curiosity as he stared. "Where did you go, just now?" He had asked. I gulped lightly as I breathed. "Fuck. You." I said, between breaths. "Well alright then." He replied. "Don't make it any easier on yourself, huh." He sighed, as he grabbed another toy. That's what torture instruments are to psychopath's right? Toys. I inhaled deeply, letting my mind wander off, away from the horrid sound of a small electric saw, that was being used to hurt me. I had flashed back to EZ.

Happy
~
I had his blood dripping down from my fingers. He had panted on the mat. "Had enough?" I grunted, as I kicked his jaw. He put his arm up. As if that would help shield him from my wrath. "P-please." He wheezed. He was down to his knees on the mat. "Pathetic." I spat. "Brother." He pleaded. Wrong words, it only made me want more of the Scottish, Irish blooded bastard. I grit my teeth in anger as he sat there. "Get up. Brother." I spat. The anger driving me. God only knows what he had requested done to her. I was a torture expert myself, I should know. I cringed at the thought if one of my past victims had been her instead. I yelled, as I kicked him down again. I grabbed his head and forced him to look at me. "Where is she." I growled. "I- I- don't- I don't know-" he panted weakly. "Oh you know. And you'll tell me." I said as I threw him down. "Tell her." He whispered through a laugh, as if some sick joke. The muscle in my jaw was shaking uncontrollably. His eyes held so much anger, and fear. He truly wanted to keep fighting, yet his body had turned against him then. I wanted him to drink his own blood. "Tell me!" I raged as I threw his whole body against the ring. "Son of a bitch." I growled in his face. He smiled, blood poured endlessly from his mouth. It coated my hand, that was wrapped against his chin. I squeezed, his blood oozing out more. "I can see you're not Happy at the moment." He chuckled. I slammed him against the ring wall.