I'm in a hotel room and I just had a hot shower. It's AMAZING.

Christmas and New Year might have come 21 years too late, but it sure as hell came early this year.

My two weeks in the system didn’t mean I had a hot shower. I had a warm one a few times. Being the new kid meant I had to shower last and by then the water was bordering on Luke warm on a good day.

And cold most of the other times.

Today I got the shower first and the stinging of the water on my back and hair was sensational.

I scrubbed myself with the bar of soap over and over again. I used all the shampoo on my hair, getting as much knots out as I could.

When I got out of the shower my skin was shriveled up. The steam was everywhere, even on the mirror.

I laughed, and it felt good.

Storm knocked on the door asking what was so funny, my answer was,

“I could get use to this.”

He was quiet for a good few moments, then he banged on the door.

“Hurry your ass up in there, I gotta take a leak.”

Now, my hair is dripping on the floor while I'm rummaging through Storm’s bag for a t-shirt, mindful of the condoms I keep touching.

Storm just slipped in the bathroom we’re sharing. He got us a double room, with two single beds.

After his girlfriend dumped him, the two of us took a slow walk to our room. He told me that Wisps ‘temper tantrum’ was bound to happen.

Apparently Wisp and him weren't actually dating, Texas and him were sharing her.

But he still spent time talking about the reason for Wisp’s behavior, A girl named, Kylie Bray.

She’s related to one of the brothers, the guys sister.

Storm met her a few months back and only recently she agreed to go on a date with him.

Storm showed me pictures of Kylie from his phone. She’s the perfect image of rich and privileged. Her skin and teeth is all flawless with a smile so big you swear she's a celebrity without needing any confirmation.

When I voiced my opinion, Storm told me she was anything but and he’ll introduce me to her.

Storm is cool and I enjoy his easiness.

All his talking relaxed me earlier when I was close to kicking it and saying goodbye to my future plans after I heard I’ll be sharing a room with the man.

But the guy is very hooked on his girl, Kylie Bray and honestly, I don't think someone like him would ever be seen dating a homeless girl. And that bit of knowledge makes things a hell of a lot easier.

I grab the plain white t-shirt ‘cause I don't think he has another color and frankly I'm tired of touching the man’s condoms. The side lamp next to my bed is dim, and the orange walls make the room darker.

I don't see my nipples showing, well as long as we stay in this set up I won't. Decision made; the towel drops as I slip the shirt over my head. It falls to the top of my thighs.

I guess he forgot that I'm tall.

Screw it.

I've been dressed in less.

I pull my wet hair to the front of my face, squeezing it on the chocolate colored hardwood floor.

Once I got my hair as dry as I'm going to get it, with my foot on the now wet towel I wipe the mess up.

I spot the scissors on the tv cabinet next to the door and the thought hits me; I should cut my hair.

The last time I cut it was when I was younger and had gotten lice. My teacher took me to the change rooms after school and cut it like a boy. She also washed it plenty of times and told me that if she ever found my hair dirty like that again, she'd make sure I never saw my mother again.

Over the years, I guess I could've cut it, but a silent fuck you to Ms Coldridge was in order.

After my mother died and I left the only foster home I had, my hair became my shelter, my way to hide from the world. I always went down to the river to wash it out, so I haven't had lice since second grade.

Years went on and I just never bothered with cutting it. The comb I found in the dumpster six years ago keeps it knot free.

Combing my hair helps when the cold is unbearable and I’m starving. I normally pull my hair out and start with small sections at a time as I work out the knots. Hours go by and for that time, I forget the hunger pangs.

I know my hair is well over my butt and beyond the length for a homeless 21-year-old.

Storm said, “Nice hair,” when I opened the bathroom door.

That's the first honest compliment a guy has ever given me. I have my mother's hair, it's black with loose curls only on the ends. I like my hair, it's the one thing I got of hers.

Hair cut forgotten I jump and flop on the bed just as a knock on the door comes. It's an angry hammering, shit.

“Calm down,” I say to myself.

The door has a peephole and Storm is in the bathroom. He didn't lock the door.

The pounding is insistent. I slowly creep off the bed, grabbing the brass candle holder next to the phone and go to the door.

“Storm, get your ass outa there, gotta talk to the girl.”

I stumble at the sound of the voice, and grab the door handle to steady myself.

The door swings open from the pressure I'm putting on the handle, at the same time Storm comes out of the bathroom like a man on a mission, but I manage to right myself just in time.

I twist my head to face Storm, who's got a towel wrapped around his waist. His hard muscles straining and dripping from the shower. His eyes cloud in anger and I follow his direction and look at the man standing at the door, Zero.

His depths rake up my body slowly, too slowly. I start to say something but before I can get a word out, Storm is in front of me, forcing me to stand behind his back.

Not sure why but I'm scared of Zero so I don't even fight Storm.

But standing behind Storm, I see a very muscular back, with a tattoo covering every inch of it with the words ‘The Satan Sniper’s Motorcycle Club’ branded below and around the tattoo.

The sight before me makes me a little nervous.

How is it that I failed to notice he was so strong?

“I need to talk to the homeless bitch.”

My chin shoots up, over Storm’s shoulder and I stare smack into the face of the man that calls himself Zero. His words are meant to hurt and maybe at one time I would have felt something, but I lived too long, seen too much while surviving on scraps to let that word bother me.

It only reinforces my decision to start fresh, Storm promised to help me. I’ll hold him up to that, but even if he doesn't, I’ll help myself, I always have.

Zero doesn't acknowledge me. His green deep-set eyes are too focused on his brother.

The three-inch scar just under his left one makes it smaller.

If he wasn't such an asshole, I’ll say he was what wild women called sexy in a bad and very dangerous way, he is however definitely not cute.

But I think the fucker is too hardcore for the sweet Falon.

He needs one of those muscle women I see leave the gym downtown.

He scares the crap out of me, and I've lived on the street.

I've faced off with evil but there is something in this man, something dark that has been leashed waiting to come out.

I pity Falon.

He doesn't look at me at all. On the streets that would mean that the man got all mouth and no balls. The smile plays on my lips at the thought. But quickly dies a dry and painful death when he does and I gulp.

“We need to talk about what happened today.”

Storm moves a step to the side to block me again, he’s taller than Zero so it's an easy move.

“You can talk with her once we in Kanla, with me there. She’s under my protection brother. Why don't you go calm down and take care of your woman!”

“That shit isn't fuckin’ happenin’, something went down tonight. I wanna know what it is.”

I mumble behind Storm’s back. He twists his body to face me, his eyes softening.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“What did you say baby girl?”

I shoot a quick glance at Zero, who is staring blatantly at my long hair, and swallow hard. Yes fucker, look, I’m a beggar with long hair,

“I said, I want my pudding then I’ll talk.” Some of the tension eases out of Storm.

And Zero seems to relax somewhat.

“Can't, Venus ate it.”

I go to close the door and Storm moves out of the way at the same time Zero’s hand snaps out to block my movement.

“Give me ten and I’ll get you another one.”

I clear my throat, “Make it two, and you got a deal.”

Surprise flickers in his eyes but his grim face quickly comes back into place making the scar foreboding.

I really want that pudding, so if I got to tell the scary man what happened to Falon to get it, I'm all for that.

“And hot chocolate.”

He shakes his head, “Hot chocolate tomorrow and pudding today.” I feel the vibration of Storm’s laughter behind me. But watching Zero’s hard face set on his decision, my shoulders drop. I really wished I’d thought of the hot chocolate first.

He mumbles something about bargaining but thankfully leaves the room and I shut the door wondering whether I’m going to get anything, even the pudding will do.

Storm is silent behind me. I turn to him and look up to his knowing eyes. He swallows, face full of pity.

There was a time where I wanted pity, I was sixteen and trying to get a job.

I finally got my pity in the form of a monster and the only pity he felt for me was reminding me of how I’ll always be a filthy homeless beggar. How I’ll always take the scraps of what people will give me. How the only pity I’ll ever get was from the mercy he’d show me, none.

“I said scream beggar. SCREAM LOUDER!” His words yell in my head. I grip my temples, it's so loud.

No, not now please, not now,

“You filthy Beggar, SCREAM.”

I freak out at the sound of his voice, and push Storm back against the wall.

My throat constricts. I can't breathe. Invisible fingers are squeezing my neck.

I hear Storm in the back ground, but I don't pay him any attention as I pull the door open.

Then I'm kicking it, down the narrow corridor.

I need air.

I need to feel the open space against my skin.

I need to know I'm alive, I'm free.

I can't stand pity, he pitied me, that monster.

For two days, he surely fucking pitied me.

He also showed me his pity for hours at a torturous time.

My throat is burning, my air constricting.

Storm thinks he knows me, he thinks because we've talked that he understands me. He’ll never come close to feeling like me, when people like him have never known a day of hunger.

Never known the lengths a 16-year-old pregnant homeless beggar would go, to put food in her belly to feed her unborn child.

Storm’s yells do nothing to help me keep those memories from attacking me.

Only my name, only one name would help me now.

And I never told him my name, I never told any of them who I am.

There's no changing that now.

The darkness of my mind is taking over, my nightmare a living reality.

The only thing I can do is let it happen, relive that which has haunted me, see his face, smell the breath I wish was retched, and feel those fingers squeezing my throat until it constricts, until my vision blurs as he rapes me, over and over,

“Scream Beggar, SCREAM.”

We all have our nightmares, some smaller than others, but nightmares all the same. I just wish mine didn't feel so real.

A normal girl, someone like Falon, would've stopped to think before they ran out in a man’s t-shirt and nothing else.

I'm not normal. I wished to be a normal girl, but beggars, we never get that choice.

My bare feet clap against the gravel road, the loose stones poking my hardened heels. I'm not supposed to go far, I know this, but I just keep going, I can't stop.

A chrome of metal stops in front of me, no light warning me, or maybe I run into it, I'm not sure. I stumble and fall flat on my butt, my ass cheeks get poked and bruised.

But it's a small pinch to what's happened to it before.

My breathing is heavy.

The rise and fall of my chest visible as bright lights point straight at me. My nakedness clear to see.

Instinct kicking in, I close my legs and shield my eyes with my free hand and slowly stand up.

“Wanna go for a ride?” The deep tenor voice breaks through my ears. Breaks through it all with just that demanding tone.

His words penetrating through the fog of my mind.

I can't look at him without getting blinded by his lights so I take a step to the side, out of the spotlight.

I should say no, and go back to Storm’s room.

“Yeah,” I agree too quickly.

Why?! I'm not sure, maybe it's because the way he asked me wasn't really a question but more of a ‘you coming for a ride.’ Or maybe it's the fact that I'm so scared of him that I don't think it's a good idea to say no to a big broody biker that can snap me in half without much effort.

I just know I'm going for a ride with this green-eyed man.

I stand there without moving, aware of the dirt stuck on the cheeks of my ass and small stones still embedded on my palms. I don't dust it off, I'm too stunned to do anything by what this man had just done.

“I don't got all day.” He drawls the words out, rolling it over his tongue.

Something peeks out between his teeth. I think it's one of those tongue piercings. I walk closer to him, mindful that Storm isn't chasing after me anymore.

“I don't got any panties,” I shoot back.

He’s quiet and so still and I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't have said that. But he throws his head back and laughs, his face transforms as it crinkles around his eyes and pulls around his cheeks. The man has a really nice laugh. My lips tug, and for the first time I get on the back of Zero’s bike.

My arms wrapped around his cut, hair tucked in the t-shirt I'm wearing. My cheek on his back. My legs brushing his denim clad thighs.

The engines roar going straight to my core and the heat of his machine warming my naked one. I welcome the motor fumes into my lungs, and the light essence of Zero's manly scent.

My mind blanks by the hum of the engine. I'm not aware of much until I feel Zero's fingers grip my thighs just above my knees. He pulls me roughly, my ass dragged on the leather seat until my hips are plastered to his back. Zero throttles the engine, as if he didn't just shatter me with that one innocent touch.

He's taking it fast. My body moving with his to the glide and drop of the machine. And for a second, I swear I’m flying.

The wind blows through the thin material that does little to hide me and I come alive.

I'm seen. For the first time I'm actually seen, not as a beggar but a human.

It's too soon that we come across a service station. I expect him to leave me by the motorcycle and cringe when I see how stupid I am. He will be leaving me with nothing on besides Storm’s t-shirt.

My nipples are still poking from the cold when he stops. The lights force my eyes to squint. And I can only imagine how dreadful I must look.

He sees my outfit, and also my predicament. The eye with the scar twitches, getting smaller and angry in the light.

I gulp, I'm feeling something, I'm just not sure what, but it's making me want to run, and get away, far away.

Without thinking he slips his cut off and hands it to me.

I say without thinking, because there's no way a biker who is thinking clearly would be giving me his cut.

I'm street smart, I know he shouldn't be giving me this. It's a symbol, something only your woman wears.

I push it back crossing my arms over my chest, my throat raspy,

“Nah, you keep it, I don't want no trouble with Falon.”

Something crosses his features but he covers it and that hardness I have seen since I've met him returns. So does the fear, my fear for this man.

“Woman, you better put the jacket on and let me decide who wears my fuckin’ clothes.”

My knees quiver as I slip his cut on without another word when he opens it for me. I know when to choose my battles.

If he wants to belittle his woman for the likes of me, I'm not going to fight him. I'm not just saying that because I’m shit scared of the scary biker.

We go into the shop together and I duck my head down when I hear some assholes whistle.

Not because of my dignity, I lost that a long time ago. It’s because I don't want them to piss off the bad biker next to me.

After a very tense ten minutes and moody Zero with no hot chocolate, (they didn't sell any), we’re back on the road to the Inn.

I don't say anything when I get off Zero's bike 20 minutes later. I take the leather cut off my warm body and hand it back to him. The chill of the night kisses my skin, reminding me of who I am, a beggar.

Zero is silent as well.

His burning gaze and the graze of his fingers when he takes his cut from my outstretched hand, screams that I should run. It's taking everything in me not to kick it as he slips the leather on to where it belongs, on him.

“What’s your name?”

I breathe in deeper at the question. A bead sticks out between his teeth, it’s gone again as he waits for me to answer.

I keep my eyes up, concentrating on his black mass of hair in the center of his head that hasn't been shaven off like the sides. His hand glides through it, keeping the hair out of his face.

The same fingers rub his jaw and then that scarred eye as it gets smaller. My fear for him returns with a vengeance. I skid across the parking lot knowing my private parts are covered because I have been this naked before, and even if it wasn't, I really just want to get away from this biker.

The packet in my hand knocks my knee reminding me of what I promised, reminding me that I'm not getting away from the biker yet.

He follows close behind me.

“Can you stop running and talk to me, I know nothing about you.”

“I'm twenty-one,” I huff out, dryly, “Born December 8th, lived on the streets of Washington my whole life, that's all you need to know about me.”

I don't think I spoke so much in one sentence since I turned seventeen, that was years ago.

My throat got damaged years back. Spending four days constantly screaming, did that to me. I screamed until my vocal cords were permanently damaged.

When I escaped, or got rescued, depending on who asks, the risk involved in getting medical attention was too great. I wasn’t getting caught, no way. So, I just kept my mouth shut. Nobody wants to hear the beggar talking anyway.

“I need more than that, tell me your name,” He insists.

I walk down the corridor to the room I'm sharing with Storm.

Zero's boots keep up behind me.

“I'm still thinking about it,” I say honestly.

My hand pounds the door twice before it swings open and Storm appears from the other side dressed in a white t-shirt similar to the one, I'm wearing and blue checkered boxers.

The smile on his lips when he sees my grip on the packet is a relief.

Zero touches my lower back and I run into the room as if he burnt me, which he might as well have, fucker.

That's three times in one day.

Three times he has touched me. He doesn't know that I don't like to be touched and I'm not sure why I haven't said anything the first time.

I don't say anything about it now either and neither does Storm.

I sit on the end of the bed and rummage through my packet. My mouth watering for the sweet goodies.

I look up only when I get my first taste of the chocolate and berry pudding. The flavor bursts in my mouth, forcing a groan from my throat.

Zero plants his butt on the dresser chair and Storm stands behind him. Both men staring at me for entirely different reasons. Storm’s mouth is hanging open, his arms crossed over his chest, probably wondering if I’ll offer.

Zero has his hands locked in the front of his pants, no doubt talking himself out of strangling me.

I carry on eating knowing full well that they're watching me, but I ain't offering them shit. This pudding is delicious, best damn thing I’ve ever eaten.

Zero clears his throat.

“It's three in the morning girl. We gotta be up at six. I ain't got all day.”

I drop my head after my first pudding is finished and slide myself up the bed and into the covers. My second pudding forgotten for now and my body covered I clear my tortured throat.

“Let's see, uhm, yeah, your girl was on the phone, I think with you.”

I peep at Zero for confirmation which he doesn't give.

His face is completely blank. Nothing.

I swallow the thick saliva lodged in my throat from the pudding,

“I was between the dumpsters waiting for the club to close.”

“Why?” Storm is the one to ask.

I pull my hair over my neck, eyes on the orange floral blanket.

“The owner promised me a hot meal if I spoke with him after they closed.”

Both of them say nothing and my vision involuntarily rises to the scary bikers. Zero has a death glare and Storm’s eyes are clouded in something that's making me wish I ran the other way.

Shit, I don't think they want to be hearing about me. They wanna know about that sweet girl.

“Falon walked further away,” I rush out, “I didn't hear her fo..”

“Hold the fuck on a minute!” My hands start shaking in my lap at the cold tone of Zero's order.

“You just agreed to meet this fucker.” Storm says in a bare whisper like he can't believe it.

My skin flames red in anger,

“He promised me a hot meal, I never had a hot meal,” I shoot back in my defense.

They both quieten.

And my small anger evaporates,

“So, you wanna know what happened to your girl or not? I don't want Storm falling off his bike while I'm on the back.” I don't look at them, I refuse to see their pity and sad faces when they don't know shit.

They think they do, but they don't.

“Tell me.”

With those two words I don't even know who spoke it. I begin and I don't disappoint and they don't interrupt.

I tell them what they want to know, and I don't stop until both men that harmed their sweet Falon is on the floor, dead.

The two bikers don't ask any questions after that.

They don't say a thing.

Both quiet.

My throat pains from all that talking. I don't look up to see their faces. I don't wanna know what they're thinking. Instead I keep my face blank and pretend I don't exist.

When they both leave the room and the lock on the door clicks, I let out a huff, and allow that cold feeling to seep through me for just a moment, the feeling I had accustomed myself to over the years. The feeling one gets after taking a life.

My eyes droop and I fall asleep, snuggled under the covers.

A warm bed to rest on for the first time in years.