Prey To The Biker's Obsession

Aditya Salgaonkar's Point Of View. Life has a cruel way of turning things upside down. At one moment you are sitting on a throne, ruling everything you see, and the next you are forgotten, discarded, treated like a nobody. That's what happened to me. I fell from power faster than sand slips through your knuckles. Now, instead of a king, I was a prisoner. I was a man who was battling memories of the throne I once called my own. My cell was small. It was just a few feet across - with rusted metal bars in the front and a thin mattress tossed in the corner. The mattress was worn down to almost nothing, and the toilet was a simple metal bowl attached to the wall. There were spider webs in the upper corner and a c***k creeping up from the base of the wall. The yellowish gray color made the whole place feel heavy and sick. I pressed myself up from the cold floor again - Push up after countless push up. My knuckles pressed hard against the concrete cement, but I liked it that way. The pain reminded me that I was alive, that I had not gone weak. There were also a few small scars across my knuckles and back - a permanent record of all the fights I had gotten into. Each one meant something and each one made me who I am. I finished my last push up - somewhat 400 - and stood up in a slow motion. I had been training my body for the long time then. As a result, my back was wide, my arms were thick, and my stomach was hard. The muscles under my sweaty skin tightened and pressed against me as I pulled up my t shirt to wipe the sweat beads of my face. The train of my relentless thoughts halted, the moment I heard them - the bullies, outside my cell. There were three of them. All were taller than me, heavy with muscle, and covered in black and blue ink - dragons, snakes, and symbols whatever their pea sized brain thought would look cooler on their arms, chests, and necks. Well, honestly they looked more like wild dogs than men. Sadistic smiles crossed their faces as they pressed forward, waiting for me to come to the bars with metal rods in their hands. I walked up in a slow motion, while letting the silence in the hall hang in the air. I stood there, close enough that I could see the details of their ink, as the veins could be seen popping in their thick arms. For a moment, we remained silent, staring at each other with the deadliest eyes. I remembered the time when the world used to fell silent at my command. My name struck fear into the hearts of my enemies. I used to walk like a king in his own realm - untouchable, and unbeatable. The crown had fallen from my head, the power had been stripped from my hands, but that had not meant I was finished. It had not meant I was weak. It had not meant I had forgotten who I was. The king might have been down, but the king had not gone away. Inside me, the fire still burned - wild, dangerous, unyielding. The leader - a huge man with piercing green eyes and a spider tattoo on his neck, tightened his grip on the metal rod in his hand. If they were monsters, then i was their nightmare and I still kept something much more dangerous - the will to destroy. I might have been caged, I might have been wounded, but a beast lived within me, a creature that had not known how to surrender. So while they celebrated my fall, while they believed I was powerless, I was already preparing myself, growing stronger in silence because when the time came, I would break those chains, rise from the ashes, and show them I had not been a king in name only - I had been a king by nature, a warrior who would fight back and take back what was mine. "Your days are over, little boy." His voice was deep as he sneered at my face. "Today I break you piece by piece and I will make sure you beg for mercy by the time I am done." I remained silent. Two of his minions opened the cell gate and rushed in first. The first tried to grab me, while wrapping his huge hands around my shoulder, but I turned, grabbed his wrist, and slammed it against the metal bunk. There was a sickening c***k, like a bone was breaking and his grip fell away. "Aaah! My arm, you bastard.!" He cried, while falling back against the wall. I could not help the small smirk that tugged at my lips. “Aww, that sounded bad,” I said. “Should have stretched first, little boy.” The second came at me from the side. I turned just in time to avoid his fist, then drove my shoulder into his stomach. We fell to the ground together. I pressed my forearm across his neck, ignoring his struggles and weak swings. “Sh” I whispered near his ear, low and cruel. His face turned purple as I pressed harder. Then I let him drop, in an unconscious state, with a bloody cut above his eyebrow against the toilet seat. “Enough playing, boys." Big bully yelled as he stepped forward then, spinning a metal rod in his hand. His knuckles were white on it, as his grip was tight. “Now it is my turn.” I rolled my neck lazily as I spoke in a casual tone, “Finally. I was starting to think you were all bark and no swing.” He came at me with a powerful blow, but I ducked. The rod smashed into the wooden bench and broke it clean in two. I grabbed a thick piece of the wood and cracked it across his face. “Oops,” I said with a grin. “Did I mess up your pretty little face? My bad. Kinda.” Blood streamed down his forehead, but he roared like a beast and tackled me hard. We slammed into the wall, the toilet, then the metal sink. He got his hands around my neck and started choking me with everything he had. I fought back as I pressed into a pressure point but this time, he did not stop. He slammed my head back against the wall, then again. My vision blurred. He pushed me to the ground and climbed on top. His fists came down hard, one after the other - left, right, left - smashing into my face, and my ribs. I tried to move, but each and every thing felt heavy. His laughter rang through the cell as I slipped into darkness. He laughed, loud and breathless. “King? My foot. Now, you are just a little bastard who deserves to be the crushed beneath the dust of my shoes!” His words rang in my ears and I did not know how long I was out — seconds maybe but when I came to, he was still laughing. His back was to me then, as he turned to talk to one of his unconscious minions like he had already won. Bad idea. I rose slowly, quietly, while the blood was dripping from my mouth. My whole body ached, but the fire inside me roared back to life. I picked up a sharp, broken piece of the bench which my vision was red in wrath. I stepped behind him and growled, “Never, I said never leave your opponent breathing, dumb ass." Before he could turn, I slammed the wood into his side. He gasped, and staggered. I grabbed him by the back of the neck and rammed his head into the metal sink again. The sound of bone cracking filled the cell. “Come on, mirror’s over here,” I growled, while forcing him down. “Let me help you see yourself.” BAM. “And again.” BAM. “And again. Beautiful, Isn't it? Thank you, I am an endearing artist.” The sink broke from the wall and crashed to the floor with a loud clang while he dropped to his knees, bloody and barely breathing. I crouched beside him. “Come on, big guy,” I said with a twisted grin. “Weren’t you gonna break me, dust me to the level of dirt beneath of your shoes? You barely scratched the surface, man." He tried to curse me under his breath, but I shut him up with one last punch - hard and clean. He fell flat. The cell looked like a war zone. One guy was knocked out near the toilet, one was slumped against the wall, and the big man was face down in blood and broken ceramic. I wiped the blood around my mouth as I was breathing hard. A bitter smirk was plastered on my face regardless. I was still a king. Just not the kind that wore gold anymore. I wore bruises, scars, and a fire that had not died - just waited in silence for the right time to rise. In the corner of the cell, half hidden beneath my torn bed sheet, lay a small bracelet that was thin and delicate. The charm on it was slightly faded, while the thread was worn and frayed, but I picked it up like it was something sacred. My bloodied fingers brushed over the beads with a gentleness that did not match the scars on my hands. It did not belong here - too soft and too pure for the filth around me. It belonged somewhere warm, somewhere safe. Just holding it made my chest ache. A tear slipped down my cheek without warning, cutting through the dried blood on my skin. I did not wipe it away and just like that, I was no longer in the cold, broken cell. I was sitting on the front steps of a small house. The sun was setting, painting the sky in soft orange and gold. A little girl no older than five sat in my lap, while her tiny legs were swinging and her smile was so wide it could have lit up the entire street. Her hair was tied in two messy ponytails, while her cheeks were round and glowing. She was focused, while her little fingers were trying hard to tie the bracelet around his wrist. “Don't move, baba.” She scolded in a gentle voice. “I am trying to tie it perfectly, so it never comes off.” I chuckled, while watching her frown with fake seriousness. I looked down at the tiny bracelet she was trying to wrap around my thick wrist, brow furrowed. “What is this, my knight in shining armour?” I asked in a soft tone, while my voice was gentler than usual. "It's magic, baba. This way, you will always be close to me, even when you are far.” She spoke while smiling towards me. Those words hit me harder than any punch ever had. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I spoke, “You want me to carry this with me?” She nodded, while looking up at me with big, trusting eyes "Yes, because I love you and I get scared when you are gone thinking you are never coming back." I had no idea what to say then, so I just kissed her forehead and pulled her close. “I am not going anywhere, sweet girl,” I whispered. “Not without you. Daddy loves you more than anything.” She smiled, the kind of smile that could melt stone. That moment - the warmth of her hug, the way her fingers clutched his shirt stayed burned in his soul as he whispered, "You are my hero, daddy." I remembered tickling her sides, as I made her shriek with laughter. She kicked her legs and tried to escape. I carried her on my shoulders, as I walked through the street like she was royalty, and she kept clapping her hands, chanting, “Faster, faster, horsey!” That sound, her laugh - it echoed in my ears louder than the screams and then I was back in the cell. The tears did not stop this time. The warmth of that memory faded, swallowed by the concrete walls and blood on the floor. I stared down at the bracelet and whispered, while the voice was barely audible, “I promised I would come back for you, and I am coming you."