Ridge Creek Read online

Page 3


  It does.

  *****

  Jake…

  Words cannot describe the agony of listening to Arianna scream her way through the last two hours. Sitting at the bar, Zane, Pops, Ma and I survey the damage in the room.

  Even I have to admit I lost it a few times.

  There’s two holes in one of the walls compliments of my boot. There’s a smashed table from where I threw it across the room. There’s also several smashed glasses at the side of the bar where both Zane and I threw them in anger as we listened to the bloodcurdling sound of a woman in agony.

  “She is strong.” Ellen announces to the room, staring into her shot glass of vodka.

  My mother does not drink often but this morning she is making an exception to her own rule. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her drink more than one drink. She’s on her third.

  “What is wrong with the world that a tiny little woman must throw herself from a moving truck to save her own life?” Pops mutters into his own shot glass.

  “He used his gun in her,” my mother whispers solemnly. “What sort of a man does that to a woman?”

  “Fuck!” I yell as I throw yet another empty glass against the wall.

  “The shop stays closed today,” I announce as I rise to walk away from the bar. “Tell all the boys both back and front of shop are off-limits until tomorrow. She needs to rest.”

  Everyone nods their understanding as I head back to my bedroom to torture myself looking into the eyes of pure misery again.

  *****

  Arianna…

  I wake up a few hours later.

  Staring at a clock on the wall, I can see that it is nearly lunch time. Hearing the sound of a soft snore, I turn my head to see Jake is sleeping in the chair with his head on a pillow on the bedside table.

  Gently sliding myself to a sitting position, I survey my filthy surroundings and decide I can’t understand how such good-looking people live in such conditions.

  There is crap everywhere. Dirty clothes, empty cans, rubbish, old boots and even the odd motorcycle part.

  Listening to Jake’s soft snoring next to me I take the opportunity to enjoy the view that is Jake. He really is yum bikalicious.

  It’s a petty I won’t be getting to know him for long.

  Watching the soft rise and fall of his chest, I marvel that I am at least alive. In agony, held together by string and brown paper, but alive.

  This is a big step up from where I thought I was going to be today five minutes after watching my very angry boyfriend walk into the kitchen of our outer suburb of Melbourne home last night.

  Five minutes after his arrival, I was pretty sure I would soon be dead and perhaps chained to rocks on the bottom of the Yarra River.

  I guess I deserved it.

  Well not really.

  You see my boyfriend is Tony Giotti. Slimy servant of a big time crime boss based in the Eastern Suburbs of Melbourne. Sadly, I know I call him a slimy servant now, but once upon a time he had been my loving boyfriend at high school and I had loved him.

  That was before he got all caught up with the crime lords and then managed to drag me into it too.

  How did he do this?

  By making use of my special talent for Web Design.

  Having gained my Bachelor of Information Technology through Monash University, I walked straight into a job. As a fresh faced twenty-four year old, it was my dream job and I was over the moon. With high grades for every subject, it only took one round of job applications and I landed the perfect job. A permanent position designing websites for an Information Technology firm based close to my home in the Eastern Suburbs. At that point, Tony had been happy for me and life was good.

  Soon discovering I had the ability to undergo the full design and coding for web sites all by myself, I quickly outgrew the controls of my employers and branched out on my own. With my own thriving small business, life was even better.

  Which is where the beginning of the end of my life with Tony may have started.

  At first Tony had been happy for my success. He liked seeing me happy and he liked the speed with which I saved up enough money to buy our first home. Moving on from there, I quickly found my business rapidly expanding. Expanding so fast that I soon had to employ a small army of programmers to aid me with my work.

  Life got better.

  Tony got worse.

  It started with small bouts of jealousy at the money I was earning. Not happy that I spent most of my funds on items for the both of us, he started to insist that I slow down in my job and let him step up. He explained that he felt I was ‘unmanning’ him, bringing in all the cash.

  To achieve his ‘step up’, he started working high paid jobs for a local crime boss. The nature of Tony’s exact involvement in their business I will never know. I did however soon work out that it didn’t take him long to move high up within their ranks.

  It was at this point he started the violence. Little blowups here and there that would end with a slap or a punch that left me in tears but not too worse for wear. He would usually storm out after these episodes and not return until the next day.

  As his temper (and his income) increased, he convinced me to close the doors on my business and stay at home as a kept woman. Wishing to avoid further violence, I agreed.

  Within a few short months I was nearly going out of my mind with boredom. Tony was however settled, although he often spent long periods away from home. It was these long absences that eventually led me to beg him one night to let me go back to work. To my shock he agreed.

  On one condition.

  I build a website for him.

  It seemed simple enough. He just wanted me to pull together an online ordering system for several Fish and Chip shops that he had ‘interests’ in across the suburbs.

  With great gusto, I happily got to work and designed ‘the online ordering system’ to end all online ordering systems for Fish and Chips in the country.

  I was happy, Tony was happy.

  We were happy.

  Until the day I noticed something odd about the data showing in reports on the ordering system. A whole new series of voucher codes were starting to show in the databases that I did not design, nor enter as values myself. Being the sole administrator for the system, alarm bells went off. Someone else was accessing my database.

  Approaching Tony about the inconsistencies, I was met with outright fury that I would question any of the codes on the site and told to ‘just fucking ignore them’.

  I wish I had.

  Unable to sit idly by while this weird anomaly appeared to be escalating on my own website, I tracked code and soon discovered there was a hacker on my site. Tracking the hacker back by using another hacker friend I met during my time at University, I was horrified to discover my hacker was a woman.

  Similar in age to me, and even worse, similar in looks.

  But that was not the worst of it.

  The worst of it came to a head one night while Tony was out ‘on business’. This particular night my hacker friend and I decided to ‘stake out’ my website hacker’s house. We had planned to do this in hope that we could hack into her private home network and do some damage of our own.

  It was to my absolute horror that I discovered on arrival that her network may have been secure, but her window furnishings were not.

  As clear as day, I had the pleasure of watching my boyfriend Tony giving it to her doggie style on her couch, in her front living room.

  I was shattered.

  Driving me home, my friend had tried to insist I just let it go and leave him.

  Again, I wish I had.

  Confronting Tony about his affair with my hacker led me to darker days. Through various explosions and beatings, Tony gradually let slip a few details explaining how he and his hacker girlfriend had set up a huge gun and prostitute ordering system through my Fish and Chip website.

  I was gutted.

  He had turned my baby into a filthy whore. />
  And that’s how I ended fucking this all up. Mortified that my ‘ordering system to end all ordering systems’ was being abused, I waited for Tony to leave the house one afternoon and got down to business.

  I shut down every single page of my website and deleted every single file from all my servers.

  Backups included.

  There was no way I was going to continue to let my baby be abused by filthy pimps and gunrunners.

  I had barely finished my massive clean-up when the front door slammed and Tony stormed in to see me sitting innocently at the kitchen table. I had just finished my system rollback and was closing my laptop.

  “What the fuck have you done?” He roared. His face red, every vein popping up purple and threatening to explode through his skin.

  Thinking it was a bright idea at the time, I calmly explained it to him. It wasn’t until I had finished my prizewinning little speech that I realized the error of my ways. With deadly calm, Tony turned his back on me and walked away. I was stupid enough to believe that this was good and the matter was done with.

  No.

  Returning less than a minute later, I found myself staring smack bang into the barrel of a large, shiny silver pistol.

  Fuck.

  “Put it all back,” were the only words I heard as he swung the pistol and clocked me across the face. That was the first injury that closed my right eye over.

  Staring at him blankly, my senses reeling, I calmly advised I couldn’t. It was all gone. Covering me in spit, he roared into my face at full volume, “Do you realize what you have just fucking done? You’ve killed us both.”

  Dragging me from my chair, he threw me down on the kitchen floor. Clipping the table with my shoulder on the way past, my shoulder dislocated. Not happy with my shrieks of pain, he laid into me with his pointy leather boots, breaking three ribs with his effort.

  It was then that I found myself grabbed by my hair and I was dragged into our lounge room. With complete savagery, Tony lost his mind and started screaming at me about being a whore. Dazed and confused with all the pain, I didn’t understand what he was about to do when he ripped my pants down to my knees, knelt on my stomach and jammed his gun inside me.

  Screaming in agony, he ignored my pleas to stop as he pummeled me bloody with both the butt and the barrel of his gun.

  At some point during all of this I stopped screaming and I stopped fighting. I was praying for death.

  Finally calming down slightly, I watched as he slowly rose off my smashed body and started pacing the room. Slowly and without saying a word, I pulled my pants back up. There was blood everywhere. I stared at the blood with a blank mind. I was past caring.

  After a couple of minutes of pacing, Tony finally stopped and stared at me. “They won’t kill me if I kill you first,” he announced slowly.

  Even this statement didn’t move me enough to care. I simply closed my eyes and waited patiently to die. This was it. A bullet would finish me and it would all be over.

  Thank God.

  The next thing I knew, Tony’s hand was wrapping itself in my long hair and I was dragged by out the back door and into his car. One armed, smashed and brutalized, I did not resist.

  He drove like a madman to one of his Fish and Chip shops. At the shop he dragged me out of his car, told me he planned to shoot me in the head and then drop me a mineshaft. He then shoved me into the back of a delivery van and we were off.

  We had been driving for what seemed like hours. I had spent the entire time imagining my final moments knelt in front of a mineshaft as he held his bloody gun to my head and pulled the trigger. It was then that the divine intervention happened.

  The roller door at the back of the truck popped up. Just like that. We hit a bump and pop, it was up.

  It took me a few minutes of staring at the dark forested road disappearing in front of my eyes to realize I had a chance at freedom. It took me a few more minutes of deliberation before I made my decision. But in the end what did I have to lose?

  So I did it.

  I threw myself out the back of a fast moving delivery van and prayed to god that I survived the fall.

  I did.

  And now, looking over at the tired, sexy biker man who saved me from the side of the road, I realise I still need to run.

  Chapter Three

  Even Crying Hurts

  Looking slowly around me, I try to decide what looks ‘stealable’ to wear. I’m currently naked and I’m sensing there wasn’t much of my own clothing left on me before they undressed me anyway. Even in my current pain ridden state, I look around the filthy room and decide I can’t wear anything that is lying on the floor. It would just be insanitary.

  Noticing a large tallboy covered in more ‘crap’ over to the side of the room, I decide it is the best place to start my search for clean clothes. Grimacing as I move, I feel the Fires of Hell descend on my back and ass as I start to slide myself towards the edge of the bed. Clenching my fingers against my palms, I stifle the urge to cry out as I finally shuffle my way carefully to the edge of the bed.

  It is as I start swinging my feet to the floor that I hear a snuffle and the snoring stops. Instantaneously alert and terrified Jake is awake; I freeze and turn slowly to see what he is doing. Studying him carefully, I watch as his chest continues to rise and fall in a steady rhythm and I realize he has only stopped snoring. He’s still asleep.

  Thank God.

  Gently placing my bare feet on the floor, I feel more burning and pulling across my back and left ass cheek. My ribs grab and my shoulder twangs.

  Great.

  With another snuffle, Jake resumes his snoring again. Even though it is a sound that right now I want to hear, it still makes me jump. My nerves really are shot. Standing slowly, I am pleased with myself for having made it this far. Turning around, I gingerly pull a blanket from the bed and wrap it around myself for cover.

  With one final check that Jake is still snoring, I start shuffling my way slowly towards the tall boy.

  Reaching my destination I pull the top drawer open and almost do a happy dance on the spot.

  Clean t-shirts.

  Grabbing the first one available, I quickly drag it over my head and let the blanket drop to the ground at my feet. The shirt is about thirty sizes too big on me and built for a Hulk. It hangs to my knees. It’s also black and soft cotton and I dig the big Harley Davidson logo on its front. This shirt’s a keeper.

  Wondering what I will find in the next drawer, I slowly slide the top drawer closed and start working on the second drawer. It is as I am slowly inching the second drawer open that I hear a deep rumbling voice coming from near the bed.

  “Good idea sweetheart, but don’t think gettin’ dressed means you’re leavin’.”

  Fuck.

  “I have to go,” I mumble to the tall boy drawer as I continue to slide it open. Finding various shades of blue jeans, I slide it shut again. There is no way I am going to be able to fit into Hulk jeans.

  Grabbing for the next drawer, I yank it open a little more desperately and find jumpers. This is starting to get annoying.

  Still hoping I might find some tracksuit pants or boxer shorts in the fourth drawer, I start to bend down. Unfortunately I hit a point where the pain of the skin stretching on my back makes me yelp in agony and I am forced to stop.

  “Get back in bed woman,” Jake’s gravelly voice slices through the air.

  “I have to go,” I announce again, despair etching my voice this time.

  Thinking that I might be able to squat down to get to the bottom drawer, I start to flex my knees and find another yelp escapes my lips as my left ass cheek catches on fire.

  Fuckity. Fuck. Fuck.

  Tears of frustration hit the back of my eyes and I feel more pain and burning behind the eyelid that is swollen shut. With the tears unable to escape, more fiery pain overtakes the right side of my face.

  “Fuck. I can’t even cry!” I shrill as I raise my left hand to my face and
feel the great balloon that is my face. “Even crying hurts too much so I can’t even do that.”

  Swinging back to face Jake who is sitting up in his chair watching me with a blank expression on his face I find my voice raising another octave as I screech out, “Why didn’t you just let me fucking die!”

  I watch as he cringes slightly but recovers quickly. Starting to rise out of his chair slowly, his green eyes are intense but his face is once again blank. I hear a soft click and look towards the door to see Ellen poking her head inside, a look of confusion on her face as she stares at the empty bed. Frantically swinging her eyes around the room, she finds me near the tall boy and her face softens.

  “I’ve got this Ma,” I hear Jake rumble as he starts to approach me where I am standing near the dresser.

  “Please don’t touch me. It hurts,” I moan softly as I start backing slowly towards the tall boy. “I have to get out of here. It’s not – safe.”

  “I know it hurts sweetheart,” Jake murmurs softly to me as he keeps approaching. “I just want you to get back into bed. You’re safe here. You don’t need to run, he won’t find you here. You can stay here as long as you want.”

  A glimmer of hope sparks in the back of my mind. I start running through all the events of early this morning. Working through each scenario, I decide there is no way for Tony to work out where I currently am. As long as I don’t go anywhere public, he won’t know where I am. He couldn’t possibly know that I got on the back of a biker's Harley and ended in a small town called Ridge Creek yet could he?

  Perhaps Ridge Creek could be a safe place – for now?

  I need time to heal. Days, weeks, probably even months. I need somewhere to lay low while I recover.

  “I can’t stay here, I need a place to heal,” I whisper the words as I jam my eye shut and my mind and my mouth continue to rocket along. “I need to get to my money. I can rent a place and hire a nurse or bodyguard or something. I need to buy another laptop. I need to make sure that he hasn’t somehow worked out how to turn my baby into a whore again. I need to get a big mother fucking dog. One of those Dogue de Bordeaux’s or some other heavyweight breed. A massive Hooch dog that will be able to pin that mother fucker down when he eventually finds me. Which I know he will. He’s got contacts everywhere and he’ll already have put a bounty on my head. I’ll also need a gun. Because after my Hulk dog pins that mother fucker down I’m gunna shove my fucking gun in his face. Then I’m gunna smack him with it, twice. Hard, like he did to me. Then I’m gunna shove that fucking gun right up his arse. Then I’m gunna pull it out again and shoot a bullet laced with shit right into his mother fucking mouth…”