The little Voice

You are a biker, a big strong man, who everyone says has a heart of stone. You’ve been in and out of Jail and Prison since you were twelve years old. You are at a local diner about forty minutes from your club. Your paying for your meal, when you feel a tug on your cut. You look down and see a little girl about seven or eight years old. Pretty, with blond hair a little too messy, blue eyes that look to old, cheeks and eyes red from crying. You look down at her, and recognize the type. A child who’s seen too much of the darker side of the world. Been down roads most adults can’t survive. She looks up at you tears dancing at her eyelids, trying not to fall. “Please sir, help me. He’s coming for me, and he hurts me.” You kneel down to her level, “Who’s coming after you?” “The man who took me from home, he took me from my mom, he hurt her first, then took me to his house. I ran away and he’s coming to get me.” “Where is he?” You ask. She points out into the parking lot as an expensive BMW pulls in. It parks and three large men wearing back suits, a little too big for their frames, perfect for hiding things inside, and an older man in a grey, perfectly tailored suit, exit the car. “That’s him, in the grey suit.” She whispers. Pulling herself closer to you. What do you do next. Proud member of the CozyChaos server.