Making the Cut
The Son’s of Templar MC
Anne Malcom
Copyright © 2015 Anne Malcom
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work or fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblence to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely conincidental.
Prologue
I remember back when I was in high school, I was goofing around with some of my friends on a playground. Wine and vodka were involved. Thanks to liquid courage or liquid stupidity, I walked along the top of a jungle gym, in heels. I fell and broke my arm so badly the bone stuck out from the skin, and no amount of alcohol could anesthetize that. I thought that five minutes before I passed out was the most horrific pain I would ever experience, I was wrong. Now I knew there was a kind of pain so terrible it almost made you want to die. I wanted to live though, as enticing as oblivion was, I was fighting hard against the blackness that beckoned me.
“Oh Gwennie, I will miss you. It seems like such a shame to let you go to waste, but you had to disobey me, then you tried to run. Not very smart.” He shook his finger at me as if scolding a child. “But you did, you saw what you shouldn’t have, so now you have to go. But not before we’ve had some fun with you.”
I couldn’t believe the vile words coming out of his mouth, the violence that had emerged from the man I thought I knew. The man I thought I loved. He circled me, perusing me coldly. I didn’t know where this creature had come from. It had lurked underneath the chiseled jaw, the messy auburn hair, and the bright green eyes. The sculpted muscles that I had found so enticing were being used to inflict pain on me, the tattoos that I thought were sexy were mocking me every time they flew past my face for a punch. The other men laughed, one of them kicked me viciously and a sharp sting erupted in my side, my stomach started to feel weirdly full. The phrase ‘internal bleeding’ vaguely floated into my mind. I didn’t make a sound, silent tears streamed down my cheeks.
“Got nothing to say Gwennie? Funny I never could get you to shut that smart mouth. I should’ve smacked you around more often.” He mused, peering at me the way a fox watched its prey.
“Fuck you Jimmy” I whispered, my throat raw and dry from screaming.
He pulled out a long knife from his belt and crouched down beside me. His attractive face was marred with a sick smile.
“No baby, fuck you. Which is exactly what me and the boys are going to do, and after everyone has had their turn I’m going to fuck you will this knife.” He ran the long blade against my throat.
I should have felt a sting because blood trickled down my neck. But I felt nothing, the pain that near crippled me seemed to be floating away, my body was light and weightless.
“I think I’ll go first, one for the road ae Gwennie?” His accent caressed my name in a sick taunt.
My heart bet furiously as I watched him undo his belt, the other monsters settled in for the show. He viciously seized my head and thrust his tongue in my mouth. I bit down as hard as I could, feeling satisfaction at the grunt of pain that came from the asshole’s throat.
“BITCH!” He yelled, punching me in the face. My head cracked off the concrete, white spots danced across my vision, it was far from the first time I had been punched. He grasped my head again and spoke in a soft tone. “Try that again, I’ll put this knife through your spine.”
I met his emotionless gaze with determination, and spat in his face. He laughed, slowly wiping his cheek before sucking on his finger. He thrust my legs open and I tried to struggle but my movements were slow, groggy. I wanted to fight, I had to fight harder than this, but my body was betraying me.
“I’m going to enjoy this, much more than when you were willing, this is more interesting, no matter how good you were in the sack.” He whispered in my ear.
I barely acknowledged him, feeling my consciousness start to leave me. I knew that this was it, I was going to die, and I couldn’t fight it anymore. I just wished that I drifted away before he violated me.
“Go to hell.” I croaked, my parting shot.
Suddenly doors crashed open. “POLICE, FREEZE!!” Multiple voices yelled.
I must be dreaming, this is too good to be true.
Gunfire filled the air, Jimmy jumped up, firing shots in every direction. I watched as one by one, my captors collapsed, bullets peppering their bodies. Jimmy, the cockroach, struggled with the officers cuffing him, escaping the bloodbath unharmed. My vision blurred at the edges. The darkness that threatened to engulf me drew stronger, no I can’t die now, I thought desperately.
“Ma’am, stay with me.” An officer filled my vision, taking off his jacket to cover me. “You’re safe now paramedics are on the way, I just need you to stay awake.”
I tried, I really did. I tried to fight the force pulling my eyelids down, but it won and everything went black.
Chapter 1
“When is she going to wake up? It’s been over a week!” Demanded a desperate voice.
“When it comes to brain injuries we have no certainties, and your sister’s body was badly beaten, she needs time to heal.” A woman’s voice responded calmly.
I tried to open my eyes but they felt like they were glued shut, I couldn’t move my body. I started to panic, was I paralyzed? Please God don’t let me be paralyzed. I put all of my effort into trying to force my eyes open, they didn’t seem to want to comply. I gave that up and tried to move my mouth, make some kind of sound to alert the people around me that I was awake. But I couldn’t, my body didn’t want to obey me. My panic grew as I realized I was trapped in my own body, unable to control it. I couldn’t think of anything else before the darkness claimed me again.
A loud beeping was disturbing my sleep it wouldn’t shut up. I thought I’d be in tune to New York sounds by now, this didn’t sound like street noise, and it was too close, right in my ear. I’m sure my alarm didn’t sound like that, and Amy was never up before me. A sterile smell wafted into my nostrils, which had me instantly suspicious, my apartment is never clean enough to smell sterile. Then the memories hit me like a freight train, what I saw, what happened after. The pain, not something I think I’d ever forget. I slowly began to try to unstick my eyes, my vision blurry at first. It took a few minutes for the room to come into focus. I looked down the bed noticing one of my arms in a cast, the other was hooked up to an IV and that machine that woke me up. My gaze wandered to the corner of the room where a man in an army uniform was curled up in an uncomfortable looking sleep.
“Ian?” I rasped, my voice sounding like I smoked a pack of Malbros last night. Which of course I would never do, regardless of the fact Carrie Bradshaw did. Yellow teeth and premature wrinkles? No thanks.
Ian stirred and then leapt out of his chair, at my side in a second. “Ace? Holy shit, your awake! Thank fuck for that!” He pushed a little red button beside the bed, eyes on me.
“Yes but I think I might have to go back to sleep for a bit Ian.” I mumbled, suddenly feeling exhausted.
“No, Ace just stay awake….”Ian pleaded, I didn’t hear the end before I drifted back into dreamland.
I opened my eyes to light streaming through the room and immediately realized I had to use the bathroom. I gave myself a moment to get my bearing
s then sat up. “Holy fuckstick.” I whispered as pain radiated through my broken body, tears welled up in my eyes. I would not let them fall. Gritting my teeth, I swung my legs to dangle to the side of the bed, reaching out to the little IV trolley.
“Okay good work Gwen, now stand up.” I muttered to myself. I took a deep breath and gingerly reached my feet down to touch the cold tile.
“Ace!” My brother’s voice exclaimed with a hint of panic, I glanced up to see Ian striding from the doorway towards me, arms extended. I lost my footing and stumbled towards the ground, strong arms caught me before I made impact.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You could have hurt yourself even more!” Ian declared angrily.
“Well I was doing just fine until you distracted me!” I snapped.
My brother smiled down at me, eyes twinkling. “I’m sure you were little sis but how about we wait for you to get a bit better before we try for any escape attempts.”
“I wasn’t trying to escape!” I cried.
“Sure you weren’t trying to escape when you were getting your appendix out either, you were just ‘stretching your legs’ right?” Ian teased.
“I was!” I argued.
“In the parking lot?”
“It was a nice night, I liked the fresh air.” I declared, inwardly grinning. I hated hospitals. “I wasn’t trying to escape this time if you must know, I need to pee.”
“Um hate to break it to you sis, but you don’t need to get out of bed for that.” He informed me, pointing down to a bag attached to me.
“Okay, ew.” I screwed up my nose, not that I was embarrassed in front of my brother, but that’s a bag of pee. Gross.
“Well I want to brush my teeth anyway, I feel like I ate a urinal cake.” I informed him.
“Okay Ace, lets get you to the bathroom before I pass out from your urine breath.”
Ian scooped me up directing us to what I guessed was the bathroom. I winced, and bit my lip trying to hide my reaction. Ian’s expression hardened immediately, into a look I’d never seen before on his handsome face, one that didn’t belong there.
“I’m going to kill that motherfucker.” He muttered under his breath, voice shaking.
“Now what would that do to your impeccable military record?” I joked, trying to keep our exchange light, I wasn’t ready for reality to hit just yet.
He opened the door and gingerly set me down on the bathroom floor, his face was hard, tortured even. He looked my in the eyes, and stroked my face, as if to make sure I was real. “Don’t joke about this Gwen, seriously, if I had lost you…” he shivered. “Mum and Dad are going to be heartbroken, I’m only glad they didn’t have to sit waiting for you to wake up. I wouldn’t wish that shit on anyone.”
“NO! We are not telling Mum and Dad!” I tried to yell, but my husky voice was barely below a whisper.
I relaxed when I remembered they were away on some cruise and unreachable for three weeks.
Ian frowned. “We’ll talk about this later, now do your business, I’ll be outside the door ok?” He kissed me on the head softly and walked out.
I spotted a brand new toothbrush, amongst Barney’s entire cosmetic and skincare range. I guess a little fairy called Amy had been in here. I flinched, mid brush as I caught my reflection, both my eyes were swollen, black bruises lingered underneath them. A bandage covered my head and a scabbed over cut on my lip was tender against the brush. I touched my bandaged cheek gently, it looked like there was stitches underneath the bandage. A long, scabbed over gash decorated my neck like some kind of gruesome necklace. I didn’t look down any further, I gripped the edge of the sink with my one good hand, close to collapsing; an angry sob ripped out of my chest. Memories flooded through me, the pain, the faces of those monsters, and the fear, the paralyzing fear of thinking I was going to be raped and murdered. And by the man I thought I loved.
“Gwen, are you ok? I’m coming in!” I heard a voice yell through the door.
Ian burst in, looking worried. His eyes softened seeing me slumped against the sink. He gently pulled me into his arms.
“I was so stupid Ian, I was so stupid.” I repeated sobbing into his chest.
“This was not your fault Ace, this was some sick bastards who are fucked in the head, none of this is your fault.” He framed my head with his hands, eyes glistening with moisture.
I had never seen my brother cry. Him and my Dad are the strong ones, Mum and I cried at anything. We sob at sad news stories and those television ads about animal cruelty. Dad and Ian had spent their whole lives surrounded by our ‘delicate female sensibilities’. Although that phrase was only uttered once, and thanks to the reaction it got, was never said again. That’s why I wasn’t letting them find out about this, it would destroy Mum, and if Ian reacted like this, I couldn’t handle my parents going through it too. My bad decisions that put me here, I somehow had to find the strength to get through this without them.
“Ian, I’m okay.” I tried to reassure him.
“No sweetie, you aren’t, but you will be.” My brother stated, scooping me up and walking us to my bed.
“Ian you can’t tell Mum and Dad I’m serious, please.” I begged.
“Of course I have to tell them Ace.” He told me sternly. “It would kill them if you went through this without them.”
“No Ian it will kill them to see me like this, look at me.” I gestured at my face and Ian flinched, his face hard.
“I am looking at you Gwen, have been for the past week and a half. The image of you in this hospital bed, it’s burned into my brain. I won’t forget it, not until the day I die.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, I chided myself, I couldn’t be that emotional girl anymore, I had to be strong.
“Don’t you get it?” I whispered brokenly. “I can never take that away from you, I wish so badly I could. I can at least save Mum and Dad from having this.” I gestured to myself again, albeit awkwardly with my bulky cast, “Imprinted into their memories as well.”
Ian’s face softened and he reached down and touched my cheek. “Ace, how is it that you manage to worry so much about everyone else while you’re the one that’s been through hell?” He asked.
“Just lucky I guess.” I joked weakly.
“Gwen, this is not your fault. I can’t fucking believe you are finding some twisted fucking way to blame yourself!!” His voice vibrated with anger.
We were interrupted by the arrival of doctors and nurses, who do all my checkups, ask me lots of questions about where I live, what year it is, and who the president is. Luckily I got it all right, but I was more likely to remember who the president of Dior was.
A no nonsense doctor named Bruce informed me that I had a broken wrist (no shit Sherlock), a fractured skull, (the reason for my week and half long coma) four broken ribs, stitches on a cut on my cheek, and ‘superficial’ bruising covering most of my body. As well as suffering from internal bleeding which I almost died from. I had gingerly looked at my tender stomach, a bandage covering what would turn into a surgical scar. Ian was shaking with anger while the doctor told me this. Seeing my staunch brother so close to falling apart hurt more than the bruises on the outside. After the doctor left Ian sat on a chair with his head in his hands, silent for a long time before he looked at me, his face a mask.
“Gwen, the doctor said you weren’t, but I have to hear it from you. Did he…” He stopped, “Did he…” Ian choked on the words.
“Rape me?” I finished for him.
Ian flinched, then nodded sharply.
“No he didn’t, he came pretty close but the cops got there just in time.” I told him carefully eyes on my brother’s clenched fists.
“Ian…” I started, trying to think of a way to calm him down.
He pushed out of the chair so hard it cluttered to the ground noisily, he turned the wall throwing his fist at it, stopping before his hand made contact. I’d never seen my brother so angry, after being in the army for almost 12 ye
ars he had iron clad control over his temper, no matter how much anyone tried to rattle him, and right now it seemed like he was going to turn green and burst out of his clothes.
My brother and I were really close, always have been. Being five years older than me, Ian was my protector and best friend since the moment I was born. He walked me to school on my very first day, taught me how to ride my bike and the day he left for the army when I was 13 was one of the saddest days of my life. We grew up in New Zealand, in a small town in nestled away from the realities of the real world, somewhere we felt safe and happy. Sure it was sheltered and the closest thing we had to couture was camouflage, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. We an amazing childhood, loving parents, never wanted for anything and grew up in a beautiful country where we rode our bikes everywhere. Even when Ian grew into a teenager, with multiple girlfriends and unnatural talent for all sport, he never forgot me, never acted to ‘cool for me’. For a ten-year-old girl who looks up to her brother, that’s pretty damn special. A couple of years after Ian left, I started to get a bit wild. Mum and Dad didn’t know what to do with me, I drank a lot, got bad marks at school. Threw some pretty wild (legendary) parties and smoked a bit of weed. Nothing too out of the ordinary for kids my age but not what my parents expected of me. One night after a party, I stumbled drunk into my house with my boyfriend when my parents were away. I knew I shouldn’t be doing it, planning on loosing my virginity to a guy I didn’t love, but thought I had to do it sometime, I felt like the odd woman out amongst my sexually active friends. The guy started kissing me and pulling off my clothes as soon as we got in the front door, I kissed him back for a while until he grabbed at my dress trying to pull it up.
“No.” I slurred, “I don’t think we should do this anymore.”
“Come on babe, don’t be a tease, you know you want to.” Trent whispered, grabbing at my dress and pushing me against a wall.