A Frightened Voice in the Night
As Big Mike sipped his coffee, he heard something unusual — the faint sound of crying. It wasn’t the rowdy kind of noise bikers are used to from late-night crowds. This was different. It was soft, desperate, and coming from the direction of the women’s restroom.
Mike stood and walked closer. The sobs grew louder until finally a tiny voice whispered:
Mike gently knocked. “Little one? You okay in there?”
At first, the door barely opened, just enough for one wide blue eye to peek out. The little girl hesitated, clearly afraid of his intimidating appearance — the tattoos, the leather vest, the rough exterior of a man who had seen a lot in his years.
But then something shifted. Instead of slamming the door shut, the child whispered words that cut straight through his tough exterior:
“You’re scarier than him. Maybe you could stop him.”Continue reading…
