Whiskey: Devil's Rose MC #2

Chapter 18: Eli Noble

I don't want to do this. I can't fucking do this.

Beatrice, she can't hurt Beatrice.

Victoria huffs behind me impatiently. My hands quiver, my heart pounding in my ears, sweat dripping down my forehead. I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. Please forgive me.

"Whiskey..."

In utter defeat, my spirit is broken, tears dripping down my face and blurring my vision, I swing the hammer once again. It didn't take much for her to break me. I hoped to be stronger, but I am weak. I am not a warrior nor am I a soldier. God, Alpha's going to be so disappointed with me. 

Beatrice is going to fucking hate me. I had a choice, a difficult choice, but a choice nonetheless. I know I made the wrong decision for this young boy's life. I know I am selfish. I know that I don't deserve this life and nothing that I have been granted. And I can't stop crying. 

My eyes burn as they continue to fall, dust and blood tainting my cheeks. I scream out in frustration but the shackles on my feet are immovable. She didn't do it too much after I arrived - shackling my feet to the floor, that is - shoving vicious words in my mind about what she could do to the women in my life, holding me completely at her mercy with a gun to my head.

There is an eighteen-year-old boy in the chair in front of me. He stole some money from Victoria but nothing she would die without. He has his hands' whole fucking life ahead of him. He did one stupid thing, and now, he's being beaten with a hammer by me. 

I don't want to, but I can't break away. Not from the situation I've found myself in. My arms are tired, my head throbbing, my stomach bubbling in nausea. I've already thrown up twice, and I would hate to have to do it again. He keeps whispering that it's okay. 

That he understands why I'm doing what I'm doing. He was stealing for the sake of his own lover too. But his words are sharp knives in my chest. Nothing about this is okay. Not my weakness, not the threatening, not the blood, not what Victoria has done and is doing, not his acceptance.

For what feels like the hundredth time but is about the fourth, she pours ice-cold water over the top of my head, the chill soaking deep into my bones. I rattle violently, the stream of saltwater on my face washing away with the ice. My wet socks soak my feet, my muscles tensing sporadically, my arm swinging the hammer one more time. 

The young man closes his eyes, whispering a soft 'I love you' as a final prayer, and his eyes never open again. She checks his pulse and smirks as she confirms the kill, my kill. She uses a whip that cracks against my bare back once, twice, three times. 

My head hangs low; everything in me sinks back into the submissive boy I was with my father. Weak, worthless, nobody, liability. She knows me, and she knows what will break me further. I have tried so hard for such an excruciatingly long time to push away from being the person I was as a child. 

I didn't want that boy to be part of me any longer but he is. He forever will be, no matter how much I want to have him gone. Disgusting, unloveable, broken, ugly. She giggles as I sob into my shoulder, my bottom lip quivering, my body falling to my knees.

"You unloveable bitch. You never fucking learn."

"Please, Victoria."

"Never fucking learn."

Snap, scream, whimper.

"Claws. I'm sorry, please, Claws."

"Good boy...at least your whorish mother taught you respect."