shuhaige
Chapter 3 (Beggar)
Chapter 3 (Beggar)
My story has never been my own, it always belonged to somebody else, another person playing front
and center.
Me- Always the passer-by.
Not many people know my story.
Most have never asked.
I mean why should they? I am just the beggar on the street.
I'm the skinny dirty girl, way too skinny.
'She must be a drug addict', most people say, 'a whore'.
How many of them actually considered the truth, I was hungry.
How many stopped and rolled down their automated windows and actually gave me that fifty cents, or
dollar? Not many.
Because how could I possibly be hungry. People see me as the drug addict whore they want to see me
as.
None of them stop and consider that I was a kid at one time, born from a mother, innocent and clean C0ntent © 2024 (N/ô)velDrama.Org.
just like them.
Naked just like them. No, because the world judges. We are categorized to fit people's naive minds.
And I, the skinny hungry girl am categorized as the whore, the drug addict and all the other sick shit
that people think up and point at me.
Telling their kids about how these street junkies get by, scaring them with lies to justify the evilness of
their own mind. That is what people see when they look at me, Beggar.
Well, at least they did.
Months ago, I met a group of bikers. They called themselves Satan Snipers.
I saved their princess Falon by killing two guys who wanted to rape her.
The Enforcer of the club, Zero, took me with them that night.
My life changed FROM that very first night. I had a hot shower, my own bedroom, and three full meals
a day.
Life was great.
Storm, the Vice President and I became fast friends.
Knight, Spade and Snake were my teachers. They taught me to fight, allowed me the opportunity to be
like them.
Guess they didn't know I was already a deadly weapon. A wanted killer with a few targets on my back
and a bounty on my head that was so large, sometimes it had me asking why couldn't I just hand
myself in.
But life never worked that way for me, even death was too easy these days.
Killer, the one in the Satan Sniper's Clubhouse that saw me for who I was from the very day- A woman
without a soul, never batted an eyelash of who I was.
He became something in my life, something that had questioning shit I didn't want to be questioning.
And Zero, the scarred scary Enforcer of the Satan Sniper's Motorcycle Club, was the man who owned
the last piece of me.
He took that final piece of humanity I had in me, I never stood a chance.
Zero made my demons livable with words I knew he could never keep.
He was the one who forced air into my lungs when I forgot to breathe. He held me when just a touch
proved too close to hell.
Zero taught me life, something I forgot I still had, and for that short while I pretended I could be his.
Now he hates me, for good reason, that I can't fault him.
He thinks I knew his brother was his brother. He thinks I used him to kill his brother, Thorn.
Zero believes that I will kill his brother.
And while most of what he thinks is wrong, the most important part of that is the truth- I will kill Thorn.
Not because I am the sick killer The Satan Sniper's Motorcycle Club probably think I am, but because I
don't have a choice.
I have to do it for her.
There are days when I think about them all- The Satan Snipers.
They opened their home for me, took me in, trained me.
For a while I was as happy as I could be.
Things seemed better.
Way better.
So much so that I forgot my monster who haunted me wasn't just a monster but a man who would stop
at nothing to get his possession back-Me.
He wasn't just my monster, he was also my husband and the Boss of the Outfit.
A man willing to do whatever it took to get me back and he did.
He kidnapped two of The Satan Sniper's women.
I knew what he would do to them and he knew I knew.
I couldn't let that happen.
My intention was to leave the Clubhouse quietly but that didn't turn out as well as I wanted. But when
does anything turn out the way I want- never.
So I traded myself with the women and gave myself to the familiar monster I knew. My husband, Lucca
Sanati.
“Amariya,” The scream bellows through the long stretch of trees.
A familiar voice, sending familiar chills down my body.
There was a time, not many years ago when my name on his lips made me blush, and my belly flutter.
Now it serves as a reminder of how cunning a demon is.
A voice made to seduce a woman, a face sculpted to obsess her and a black soul made to frighten her.
“Where the fuck are you?” He yells again, and the three guards stationed to watch me like the dog he
has now made me SCREAM,
“Here, boss.”
Like the puppies they are they shrink away.
Lucca comes through the rows of trees, THEN stands there, a few feet too near with his hands on his
waist.
His cuff links gone from his crisp white shirt.
The fabric, now rolled up to reveal his hairy arms.
His deep olive complexion glows under the DC sun as brown hazel eyes I once looked at like it held all
the answers to my problems stare at me.
Over these past months, I notice he does that a lot- stares, I hate it.
More when I have no option but to look right back at him.
“It's time to leave!”
His words say one thing, but his sharp angular face conveys something darker, a sinister promise of a
sinning man to his defiant wife.
I know exactly what he wants to do to me right now for sitting outside.
Defying his orders to stay with him at his fucking human trafficking party.
The one good thing was that I was back in Washington. Closer to a lot more than I was in New
Orleans.
I touch the shock collar on my neck- A reminder that the blue silk dress wrapped around my body and
fancy silver shoes attached to my feet is just a bluff- A lie.
Before now, he has kept me in a bedroom- Naked.
The shock collar around my neck is just one of the things he has used over and over again, torturing
me with attempts to get me to reveal to him a truth.
That truth is neither here nor there. A truth I refuse to even think about.
The honest story about her, my daughter, his only child- does she live or not, that is a tricky
question.