The Upward Ripple

She ran to her kitchen and took a steak knife from one of the drawers and then made her way back to the main hallway.

“Okay,” she said as she looked at him feeling well-armed. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

The look on Nate’s face was one of amusement. Obviously, if the stories that Cynthia heard were true, a small-bodied holding a bat and knife was nothing compared to the machete and gun-wielding company he had kept for so long.

“What I am about to say is not to excuse my actions rather explain them. I don’t know if that makes any sense,” he started, and Cynthia shook her head.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Nate forced out a strained laugh.

“Fair enough,” he muttered.

He took a long, deep breath and leaned against the closed door.

“I am sure you must have heard that I spent some time with The Outlaws. I mean, after all Pine Grove is a small town and news travels fast,” he started, and she nodded.

“Yeah, I might have heard a thing or two to that effect,” Cynthia lied.

Nate clenched his fist and exhaled loudly again. She could tell that the whole situation made him uncomfortable. She wanted nothing more than for him to say what brought him there and leave as soon as he possibly could. The way his lips were parted made her know that he had something to say. That the words were already formed in his heart and mind, but his chords were failing him with every passing second.

“This is the only way I can explain this,” he said without looking up as he took off his jacket. She wanted to ask him why he was getting undressed, but he was moving fast or was it that her mind did not work fast enough. He then proceeded to take off the shirt he had underneath and that was when she saw it. The perfectly chiseled body that made everything he wore look so good was riddled in scars. He turned around slowly giving her a clear view of his back which was as badly scarred as his chest, if not worse. She had never seen anything like that at least not in person. She had seen similar markings on Negro slaves in movies and television shows that told of the sad story that was the Trans-Atlantic slave trade. Her heart went out to him. She had so many questions.

“What… what happened?” she asked in a whisper. “Who did this to you and why?”

“When I left Pine Grove, I was angry. My mother had just died and the woman who had been taking care of her for so long was suddenly marrying my father… as far as I was concerned, it was the highest level of betrayal. I just had to get away because all I felt was this burning anger inside me….” He looked up at her. “I left Pine Grove and found myself in Nevada. Engines had always been my thing so, when I found a chance to be around engines all the time, I took it. I should have known that the deal was too good to be true. Getting into a bike club and being accepted as part of their family almost immediately…it was something that is quite rare, but I was too blinded with grief to see how fast I was rising in that world. Too blind to understand that I could not just leave when I got tired of everything. It was not a club like any other.”

“Well, they are called The Outlaws,” Cynthia said matter of fatly.

“Once I witnessed something, someone almost lost his life and that was when I realized what being part of The Outlaws really meant. I knew that it was time to leave but leaving was not easy…. I did everything. I offered money which they took but that only made them ask for more. After a while, I realized that they were not going to let up. They were always going to blackmail me and if I didn’t put an end to it, I was going to be tied to them forever. So, I went to the charter president and asked to be released from the club and they told me that the only way out was getting the mark of the brotherhood off.”

Cynthia shook her head.

“The mark of the brotherhood?” she asked.

“There was a tattoo on my back, a symbol of the club. I offered to get a laser surgery with one of the members present for confirmation purposes, but they wouldn’t allow it. They wanted to make sure I served as a lesson to other club members who thought of doing the same thing.”

“So, what did they do to you?” she wondered out loud.

She could not help but wonder if they had taken a bladed cat-o-nine whip to him or perhaps something worse.

“Have you ever heard of an ancient punishment known as death by a thousand cuts?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“Yes, but I have never really bothered to know what it is about. I would much rather watch videos of puppies and kittens.”

“Death by a thousand cuts is a procedure where people cut you over and over. The cuts are intense enough to cause immeasurable pain but not serious enough that it can cause death. So, it prolongs the process and the person dies slowly…in intense pain.”

“That’s what they did to you?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“No, not exactly. They did use blades but mostly, they preferred a whip. I was strung up and beaten until the tattoo was no longer visible. I must have passed out because by the time I regained consciousness, I was in a hospital. The doctors and nurses said that I had been comatose for almost fourteen days… After my recovery, I checked into a hotel and stayed there until I no longer felt like an invalid. I might also have stayed that long because I was afraid for my life. The Outlaws kept sending me threats… I moved from the small hotel and checked into the MGM Grand. There was no way an Outlaw could get in unnoticed in an establishment like that.”