Chapter 10 – Queen of bad decisions

I felt like I was going to throw up again but then I felt a hand graze my cheek and I shuddered. I knew that voice, of course I did. It was sickeningly sweet and patronising. The British accent sounded strange and cutting compared to the easy, drawling American one I was now used too. His hand was clammy and shaky as he continued to stroke my cheek.

"Daddy's here," he whispered again as the light flickered on.

Once the room was flooded with light I could see him clearly. He looked the same as he always had so I guess the stress of their situation had only taken its toll on my mother. His cold blue eyes looked into mine and he gave me a false, to wide smile that made me shrink back away from him until his hand snapped down to my neck where he gripped it tightly. I choked a breath and his expression turned menacing.

My eyes flicked around my living room and I saw that there were more people in my house. so many strange men had positioned themselves against different walls and on various surfaces. They all wore suits and ties, flipping around varying guns and knives. One man had even helped himself to my coffee. Bastard.

"Oh how I've missed feeling your little hummingbird heart beating in my hands."

I let out a ragged breath again as I watched the rest of the men carefully. Michael clicked his fingers and one man that had been hovering nearby immediately stepped forwards with a phone in one hand, pointing it at me. I hated how familiar that sight was.

"Don't," I choked out, "please don't."

He picked me up by my neck and slammed me hard against the front door; making me whimper and shut my eyes tight against the tears that sprung to my eyes when my head hit the hard wood. He crouched over me and hissed in my face. I couldn't tell him what to do. How dare I speak without being told too? I knew all of these things but I knew what was about to happen and I didn't want Clay and Jax to see it, let alone the rest of the guys.

"Please don't send it to my dad," I whispered.

"I am your father!" he shrieked in my face.

I closed my eyes as he let go of my neck only to be backhanded across the face. I let my body fall against the door like a ragdoll. My breath was shaky as I made myself stand up, using the wall for support. I glared at my stepfather but said nothing.

He asked the man holding the phone if he had captured the hit which made the other guy nod enthusiastically. He told him to get a close up of my face. I could feel the blood running down my chin from where his rings had split my lip and cut my face. I stared defiantly past the camera to him and spat the blood from my mouth out at him. It landed on his white shirt and dripped down until it sunk into the fabric. Michael sighed at me, shaking his head and tutting.

"Oh Vivania, my darling daughter, I have missed your spirit. Your mum just doesn't have the fight that you always had. She doesn't have her looks anymore," his hand stroked my face and hair; making me shudder, "but you are so beautiful. You made a big mistake trying to cut down our business but not to worry; you'll make up for it soon. Keep your schedule clear for the next week; we'll be coming over for some… family time."

I narrowed my eyes at him as the camera man lowered the phone and the other men in my house started congregating around me. I looked around in panic but Michael only got the door handle in his hand and looking at me expectantly. Quickly, I stepped away from the door and all the men filed out into the darkness. With one last sadistic smile, Michael followed them out.

I stared after them as a stream of sleek black cars came out of nowhere to stop outside my house. They climbed in and just like that, they were gone. I couldn't help but wonder what Mr Crabb had been doing the entire time that my stepfather and his goons were in my house, why hadn't he called Clay? Not that I really wanted to see him; even if I hadn't, until this very moment, realised that the danger that they had all warned me about was very real.

I was about to close my door when a sleek white car pulled up in front of my house. I froze as the back window rolled down and a man I didn't recognise looked out at me with a sly smirk.

"Oh, and Vivi," the man said, he was American, "how about you don't tell Clay or any of the other Sons? We don't want anybody to get hurt now, do we? See you tomorrow."

The window rolled back up to hide his face again and the car peeled away from the curb as a shiver ran down my spine. The guy had a bad energy coming off him in waves and I knew that it must have been Christopher Warren.

I slammed the door shut and fell back against it. I was hyperventilating and I didn't know how to stop. My head was spinning, from drinking heavily, the anger and the stone cold fear. The blow to the back of my head didn't help. It was serious now. I had been running around for two months pretending like I was important when in reality I was just being humoured and kept as busy as possible to distract me from what was going on. As long as I was cooking for them, cleaning up for them I wasn't asking what was happening.

I hoped my words had sunk in for them and they realised that keeping me in the dark had done more harm than good. I couldn't believe how shit the night turned out to be, I wanted it to be fun and I wanted to sleep at their house where I had felt safe but now, since their slanging match with me, I didn't feel safe anywhere. I couldn't even call Nikolai; if Mr Crabb told Clay he was here I'm certain he and Jax would kill him. I had also left my phone at the house with the rest of my stuff.

I had lay in bed awake for hours just tossing and turning; just trying to sleep but nothing worked. I couldn't get my brain to shut off, it was so loud and my thoughts were going by so fast that I couldn't pinpoint the exact thing that was keeping me awake. My head throbbed and my face stung from the cuts that littered my cheeks and lip.

With a frustrated sigh, I flung the blankets away from my body. The chilly air hit my body and I decided I should probably put on some clothes over the underwear I had just gone to bed in. I looked through my wardrobe for something that wasn't a pencil skirt or a blouse. My hands felt something soft and thick. It was the hoodie that Chibs had given me on the ferry on our way back over to America. I smiled slightly and held it up in the half darkness. The moon shone on the reaper on the back. I hadn't even seen that when it was first handed to me although I had a lot on my mind at the time. I slipped it on over my body, revelling in the comforting feeling it gave me and zipped it up half way. Once I had put my slippers over my feet I padded my way downstairs.

My first stop was the kitchen. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard then the wine and filled it up to the top; hoping that the alcohol would make it easier to sleep. The more I drank, the more my brain fuzzed and the thoughts became quieter. Thankful for the brain fuzz, I drank the rest of my second bottle. I knew it was bad but I was becoming the queen of bad decisions at the moment.

I had drunk the night away and collapsed on the couch, finally asleep. Or passed out depends on how you look at it.

When I woke up the next morning, or afternoon rather, it was too loud rapping on my front door and the window of my living room. I sat up suddenly and clutched my head, squinting against the pain in my head and the thumping in my ears. When the room stopped spinning, I looked to my left and saw Chibs and Jax with their hands cupped around their eyes as they looked through the window. They were shouting at me to unlock the door and let them in. I stood up shakily, resting my hand on the arm of the couch before stumbling over to the window. I glared at them, gave them the middle finger and shut the curtains with so much force that I startled myself.

My stomach cramped and my throat began to get slick. Before I could throw up on my nice hard wood floors, I stumble-ran into the kitchen to vomit in the sink. When I looked up, I saw that the two guys were now looking in through the kitchen window.

"Either let us in," Jax shouted as he took in my rough appearance, "or we can smash a window."

"Go fuck yourself." I spat.

I didn't care if they heard me or not. I just wanted to lie down.

They could see me from the window but by the time I had remembered I should have closed the curtains, I was already curled up around the bottle of whiskey on the couch. I didn't even like it but it numbed the thoughts in my head. They pounded on the back door and window for about 30 minutes, shouting at me. I curled up tighter around the bottle and just squeezed my eyes shut to the noise, trying not to remember how they spoke to me the night before.

I drifted in and out of sleep all day, only moving to go to the bathroom before curling back up to go back to sleep. I had nightmares, horrific nightmares, every time I closed my eyes. I dreamt I was a child again, reliving my worst moments. I dreamt that all of my friends were dead and I was left alone with only my mother and stepdad to help me. I also dreamt that I was running over an endless bridge with the sound of motorcycles hot on my heels.

I felt someone pulling at my arms and I fought back weakly but I was dragged up by my arms. I gasped. My eyes flew open and I was looking into the smiling face of Michael.

"Hello darling," he murmured as I fought against his grip, "how have you been?"

"Fuck off."

He laughed and stroked some loose hairs away from my face then moved his hand down my neck. He traced over the bruises he had left there the night before with a proud smile. I finally pulled my hands away from him and fell back onto the couch, hurriedly zipping up the jacket the rest of the way before he could get a good look at my body but I can tell by his face that he had already seen.

"Now now, Vivania," Michael cooed, "don't be like that. You don't need to be self-conscious; I'm your dad, remember? I've seen you before."

"Enough," another voice snapped from behind me, "We're not here to act out your disgusting fantasies Michael."

I looked around and saw the same guy as last night stood behind me with his arms folded. He was staring at my stepfather with a scowl but when he looked down at me he gave me a warm smile. I didn't smile back I just looked up at him with wide eyes. He came closer to the couch to put his hand on my shoulder, the smile not wavering once.

"I'm so pleased to finally meet the girl that orchestrated the down fall of my business; you really are an intelligent girl to come up with a plan like that. You think of it yourself?" he said kindly, almost praising.

"It- it's just a business technique," I stuttered out, "I learnt it in school."

He looked genuinely impressed. Christopher crouched down so that he was eye level with me. I stared into his eyes defiantly, wanting to know what he wanted from me. He smiled again before grabbing me by my braid and dragging me over the back of the couch. I grunted in pain as my elbows and knees hit the wooden floor. My heart was beating so hard I could hear it thumping in my ears and pulsing in my injured joints.

"I'm happy you impressed your dad, little girl, but you made me very angry," he growled in my ear as he pulled me up by my hair, "and now, you're going to make it up to us."

"What are you going to do to me?" I hissed, grappling at his hands trying to free myself from his grasp, kicking out as hard as I could.

"Well that all depends on you."

I didn't want to cry, I didn't want to beg; I didn't want to show the crippling fear that I was feeling inside. My scalp was hurting, I felt like he was going to rip it off my skull. I desperately tried to unwrap my hair from around his hand to no avail.

"Now, lovely girl," Christopher growled, "I want you to tell me all about that little club of yours. I'm waiting."

I closed my eyes but shook my head. I flinched when he laughed humourlessly, a laugh that was echoed by Michael. Christopher dragged me towards my kitchen. He told his brother to grab a dining chair which he threw me into. I went to stand and run but I heard the sound of a gun being cocked and cold metal against my temple. I froze in place. My breathing went shallow and I sank down in the chair.

"There we go. Well done," Christopher cooed, "would you like to change your mind?"

I shook my head again.

I decided to channel Gemma. I kept thinking to myself, what would Gemma do in this situation? She wouldn't sell out the people she loved, even if her life was on the line. She would be strong and resilient. I resented them for what they had said to me, and I hadn't forgiven them yet, but that didn't mean that I wanted to betray them.

"Come on. Don't make us hurt you; we don't want that pretty face to be ruined. Do we?" Michael chuckled.

"You won't hit me on the face again," I rasped.

"Won't I?" he chuckled.

"No, you won't. People will see, you don't like that."

"Enough of this," Christopher sighed and hit me in the stomach and ribs with the butt of his gun.

I gasped as the wind was knocked out of me. I coughed and spluttered, holding my stomach until my arms were restrained my Michael. The two brothers kept firing questions at me about the club but I didn't know anything. I kept telling them I wasn't told anything but they didn't believe me. They told me that Clay Morrow's daughter had to know something; Jax must have said something to me about their next moves in the business.

"Come on!" Christopher shouted in my ear, "you were the brains behind everything; you're not telling me that you haven't been putting ideas into their heads?"

"No," I gasped out again, "I'm telling you! They never told me anything. They kept me out of it after all of the people were on board."

"Lie!"

Another blow to the ribs.

I heard a sickening crack and assumed that my ribs had broken.

I could barely breathe now. My head hung forwards and tears dripped silently down my nose onto my legs. I couldn't even think about the club right now, I was in so much pain. My breath was shallow and every time I took a breath in my chest felt like it was about to collapse inwards onto my lungs. My wrists were raw from where I had fought back from my restraints. As I slumped forwards, the duct tape cut into the bruising and pulled at my wrist joints.

Michael pulled my head back by my hair to look at him. I stared into his cold eyes steadily. I wanted to show them I wasn't scared, I wasn't going to give in or beg for them to stop. I was stronger and more resilient than I had been when I was a child.

"We're going to leave now, sweetheart. You rest up, have a bath. Well see you tomorrow," Christopher's voice made my skin crawl as he whispered in my ear, "but if you breathe a word of what happened here to 'your boys' or your little family we will bring them here and kill them right in front of you. Just like your little Russian friend. Do you understand?"

I nodded reluctantly as visions of Jax and Opie lying dead on the floor covered in blood flashed through my mind. I couldn't cope with losing anyone else, especially since I had only just got them back.

"Good girl," he whispered and stroked my face, "we'll see you tomorrow."

My hands were freed with the swipe of a knife and my arms flopped forwards and hung limply at my sides. Before I could prepare myself for staying upright, Michael let go of my hair and I fell out of the chair and onto the floor. My arms were too weak to stop my head from hitting the floor and by vision went misty. Through the ringing in my ears I heard Christopher laughing and telling me that I should reconsider my thoughts on telling them information. I tried to tell them that I didn't know anything but my mouth wouldn't move properly.

"Rest well, little girl, we'll see you soon."

I heard the door slam shut and the house was silent. Before they left, they had turned off all the lights and I was grateful for that small mercy.

I wasn't sure how long I lay on the cold wooden floor before I managed to heave myself to my feet. My body was protesting at every movement I made but I made my way upstairs to my bedroom. Bracing myself for the intense pain I was going to feel, I flicked on the light switch. It wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be but I winced when I unzipped the jacket to look at my body in the mirror. A large blue bruise was appearing on the right side of my body. My knees were mottled along with my elbows. My wrists were blistered and red with blood from where the tape had rubbed and cut into my skin. When I looked up to my face I grimaced; there was dried blood on my temple and in my hair which was mussed up and messy.

I know I should have said something. I know I should have run to a neighbour's house and called Jax or my dad but I was so scared they would follow through with their threats. I knew the threats were serious now; Mother had told me it was going to get bad but I didn't even consider this would happen. I didn't know what I thought would happen but it wasn't this.

When I was a child and I had been overly rebellious, passed the point of a backhand slap, I would be locked in a dark closet, for hours at a time, to "think about what I had done" to be shut in there. It wasn't much of a punishment though because I would be thankful for the peace and safety I felt in the dark. I would put clothes on the floor and sleep on them. I guess I thought that it would be something similar to that but no. I was going to be beaten either until I told them the information I had, which was zilch, or they finally realised that I didn't know anything; whichever came first.

I did as Christopher had suggested and ran a bath. I eased myself into it, allowing the warm water to cover my aching body. I tried to get the duct tape off as painlessly as I could but it ripped the chafing skin and blisters causing blood to ooze out of my wounds and tears to spring to my eyes. While I ignored the stinging in my wrists, I started thinking of a plan to get them to lay off me. I could kill them, I thought, but I'm not sure how up to murder I would be; blood had made me squeamish ever since my last night in England. Another option would be to give them some kind of false information. I don't know what that would be because I didn't even know enough to base it on any kind of truth. I sank lower into the water to allow my head to go under the water.

I lay in the bath until it went cold and then a bit longer after that; not wanting to move my painful body. I did eventually get out, however, and dried myself off. I put on some clean pyjamas and the SOA hoodie before crawling into bed, curling up under the blankets and allowing myself to sleep.

The next morning, I was woken up by banging on the front door and shouting. I groaned but rolled over and brought the blanket up over my head and tried my hardest to ignore them. I was supposed to be in work today but even if I hadn't been unable to move I wouldn't have gone in anyway; I didn't want to see them. I didn't want them to see me looking like shit because I wanted them to think I was pretty and professional. If they saw me covered in bruises they would ask questions and I didn't want them to get hurt.

As with the day before, they only tried knocking and shouting for so long until a brave neighbour shouted for them to shut up or the police would be called. After that, the guys must have decided I just wanted some space or something because they stopped knocking. My phone was posted through the letter box and I had some missed calls from Nikolai but I didn't even want to speak to him, he was the one that had caused this mess. Well, I had caused this mess but he didn't help.

In the evening of the second day I was woken again by someone whispering in my ear. I lashed out at the person only to be hit across the face by a hand with sharp rings and grabbed by the hair. They had kept their promise and were back for more.

This routine lasted for about a week. Every day it would be harder and harder to fight back and move; every day I had a new injury. By the fifth day I was positive I had at least two broken ribs from constant and relentless beating in the same area. I stopped being able to make my way upstairs so I would just collapse on the couch and drag myself to the toilet when I needed too. On the last day, I was so delirious from the pain and lack of food that I couldn't even speak, move or even think about anything except for the pain that I was feeling. It felt like I was drunk and sluggish but not in a good way.

I was coughing up a mixture of mucus and blood. The action made me cry out as the movement of my lungs made the ribs, I was pretty sure were cracked, spasm with pain.

"I think she's had enough," Michael said, sounding a bit scared, "she isn't going to be able to take much more."

"She's faking," Christopher had laughed.

I tried to tell him I had had enough and that I didn't know anything but my speech slurred and the words just came out in one long string of muffled noise. I didn't even need to be restrained anymore; I was too weak to do anything. Michael just had his hand on my shoulder to keep me upright on the dining chair that hadn't moved since their first visit.

When I looked around all I could see were the silhouettes of my two tormentors against the dim light coming through the curtains. I was thankful that I couldn't see their grinning faces and their cold eyes as Christopher circled around me like a shark. He would occasionally hit my chair on either the back or on a leg to make me flinch. Every time I refused to answer questions I would be hit with the butt of his gun or burned with a cigarette. His favourite place to burn me was on the back of my neck and the smell of burning flesh was becoming unbearable.

"Or maybe you're right," Christopher admitted, "we don't want to kill her; Clay will have no reason not to come after us. We need to get them weak and she's our key."

I mumbled another string of nonsense that meant to be a vague threat on their lives and Christopher laughed.

"Yeah, not to mention that Scottish guy. Al says they're close."

Who the fuck is Al?

"Hm yeah. He used to be IRA. I heard he killed Jimmy O."

I didn't know what all this meant and I didn't care. I was enjoying the thought of Michael and Christopher being scared of the guy that was always so kind to me, except for over dinner when he called me selfish and basically a slut which I thought was pretty rich coming from a guy that fucks crow eaters all the time.

"Fuck."

I mumbled again and this time I didn't even know what I was supposed to be say at that point; I think I was just talking shit. The two Warrens laughed and Christopher stroked my sore cheek gently. He told me that he would leave me to heal, reminding me again that if I said anything to anyone my friends would be hurt. I had just nodded as my breath wheezed.

I hadn't heard them leave but I felt the cool night air waft through the door as it opened and shut.

Finally in the silence, and in the dark, I took a deep breath. My ribs exploded in pain and I made sure I wouldn't do that again until they were fixed. I tried standing but every small movement I made caused my ribs to hurt even more. I took a few quick shallow breaths then held my breath as I stood. I gripped my arms around the pained area on my torso and winced as the burns on the back of my neck pulled when I lifted my head. I didn't have far to stumble over to the couch and once I gingerly placed myself down on the squashy surface I let out a shallow sigh. It was becoming more and more difficult to stay conscious, my brain was being starved of oxygen and I was feeling prickly hot and shivery.

I was pleased that this was over, at least for a while.

There was an uneasy feeling in the club since the evening of the family dinner. Nobody had seen Vivania around or at least a week. Whenever they saw through the kitchen window there were wine bottles on the floor by the couch and once they saw her curled up wearing a Sons hoodie.

Happy had a bad feeling for a few days but he had also been told to give her some space; she was probably still angry with them all. That did nothing to ease his suspicion so one night he took Juice with him to her house. When they pulled up to the house they saw a white car starting up and peeling away from the curb beside her driveway. The uneasy feeling increased and they ran up to the living room window only to see the curtains still closed.

The two men made their way through the bushes that ran alongside the building to get to the back garden and look through the kitchen window. The torchlight shone in through the window and revealed blood on the floor next to an out of place dining chair.

"Get the key," Happy rasped to the younger man.

"What key?"

"Spare key. Under the mat."

He pulled out his phone to call Clay and tell him what had happened when Juice told him that the key was missing. He gave a quick rundown of what they found to their president, who sounded both angry and stressed, before hanging up and started to kick the door in. he and Juice took turns in booting the locked door until it swung open.

When they turned on the lights juice swore and Happy's eyes widened. He knelt by the passed out girl and put his hand on her forehead. She was pale and sickly looking, her skin had a thin layer of sweat over it and her temperature was far too hot. When he looked closer at her skin he saw the purple bruises on her neck under her hair.

"Stop," she mumbled although her speech was slurred and her voice was hoarse, "you said no more."

"Call an ambulance." He told Juice, "now. Call Clay."

Vivania's eyes flickered open but didn't focus. She tried pushing his hands away but her attempts were weak. The sleeves of her jumper slipped up her arms to reveal the raw skin and lesions on her wrists. He thought back to the warning Caitlyn Teller had given her that night and knew immediately what had happened.

"We're here," Happy said, trying his best to be gentle with her, "we'll get you help."

"Happy?" she asked faintly with her eyes still closed, "I'm still angry."

He nodded in understanding and they stayed with her until the ambulance arrived, following on their motorcycles. The rest of the guys joined them on the road and escorted the emergency vehicle with Clay upfront, Jax on his left and Chibs on his right.

Oh, y'all wanted a twist? - You thought chibs would come to her aid? Nope!

I really enjoy writing Happy and Viv having a close friendship, I feel like they understand each other in a way? I don't know.

This update is long! Over 5000 words! How do we feel about the guys not telling her anything about the business? Would that save her life or would it end up getting her in even more trouble with the Warrens?

I hope you don't mind the 3rd person point of view at the end; it's not going to be a full time thing so don't worry if you don't.

Thanks for all the support again, you people are all angels!

Lots of love, Doe

xxxx