I awoke with a bloody, wounded cheek and swollen eye. I couldn't move my jaw, my hands had been tied tightly behind my back and I was half naked. The room was dark and stuffy, I could barely breathe.
I couldn't remember much. I remember saying goodbye to Ryan and then... black. Nothing.
I heard a door screech open and heavy foot steps. I heard a few faint murmurs before the lights were on, and everything was exposed.
A young man, rough looking, around the age of Ryan, stood infront of me. He had deeply tanned skin and dark eyes and hair. He had too many scars to count and his facial expression was stern. Behind him stood a couple of other young men, all extremely intimidating.
However, one stood out. He had very fair skin, bright blue eyes, and ashy blonde hair. He had a couple of piercings and bruises on his face. He gave me a sympathetic glance but quickly looked away, in fear of getting caught by by the tan guy.
My eyes opened widely as the first guy approached me and laid a rough hand on my wounded cheek. I winced as more pain waved over me and the guy smirked sarcastically. He quickly slapped me and I cried out, spitting out a load of blood. Tears ran down my face as I glared at him.
"Aw, don't cry sweetheart," he hissed bitterly, his face almost pressing up against mine. I could smell the cigarettes and alcohol in his breath. I desperately squirmed, trying to get out of the tight hold he had me in. He chuckled in amusement.
"You aren't getting out," he smiled cruelly. "By the way, I'm Marcus. I think your husband Ryan might know me."
"Why would Ryan be associating with you bastards?" I found my voice and said bravely. A couple of the guys snorted with laughter behind him.
"Looks like your 'sweet' little Ryan forgot to tell you a few things," Marcus cackled. I sat there, puzzled.
"He's been lying to you, love. Why do you think he brought you here? Because he doesn't want you to know he's a murderer. He's a leader of a gang. I'm sure you've heard of the Jokers, huh?"
I was dumbfounded. Of course I've heard of the Jokers, they were the most wanted gang out there. They were highly dangerous, killed many of people, and there were millions of them. They were always moving. There was no way my husband could have started that... I didn't want to believe it.
I lost it. I couldn't hit him, I was tied. So I did what I could do.
I spat in his face.
His sarcastic expression turned hard and stern. He clenched his fist and pulled back his arm yet again, his fist colliding with my other eye. I flinched, but I knew that was expected. But something else came out of it too, something I wasn't expecting.
He started to untie me and before I knew it, in a flash, I was thrown carelessly on to the hard, cold floor. I yelped in pain, the rough floor hitting the many bruises that were laying on my back. Marcus began to remove the very few pieces of clothing I had left on my battered body, and I was bare. He grinned, his eyes running over my thighs and breasts.
The men still stood in the room, their eyes running over me as well, except the one.
I knew I should've made a run for it, but I couldn't get up in time. He had me pinned down in a split second, his jeans and everything underneath thrown behind him.
"Don't ever think about doing that again," he hissed into my ear. I began to thrash and scream, trying to do everything I possibly could to get away from this monster. But he was unbelievably strong and quick, I was barely moving at all. He suddenly became fed up and slammed my head hard against the floor, making that the last blow I could take. My vision clouded and I was gone again.
