So this is an M rated fic for a reason. There is mention of rape/ implied rape so if that is not your thing please move on. This warning only applies to this chapter but I will post warnings as needed.

Other than that,

Enjoy!

I awoke to the sound of a man laughing a sickening laugh. I looked around to assess my surroundings when I realized that I was in his bed, in his apartment. This man owned so many things and yet he wanted more. The room was not modern by all means but modern enough to cost a lot of money.

Yet, he still wanted more, he wanted me.

Luckily his laugh came from outside of his room. I could only hear one side of a conversation so he must be on the phone.

From what I could hear, he was talking about me.

No, scratch that.

He was bragging about me. He was telling the other person on the phone how much fun it is to tease me. How fun it is to play with my body, with my mind, with my soul. He was describing in detail what he had down while I was knocked out cold on his bed.

The things he had described to the man should never be repeated. I didn't want to hear it, yet I couldn't force myself to block it out.

I looked down at my battered form sprawled across of the bed. My head throbbed from the knockout blow caused by a rusting pipe he swung like a baseball bat. I could already tell that it was swelling and there would sure as hell be a mark there tomorrow, if there wasn't already.

There were, however, other visible marks on my body. A long gash convulsed on my face starting at my left brow to my right cheekbone. I could taste the metal from the blood as it dripped down into my mouth.

I didn't—couldn't bring myself to spit the blood from my mouth. I'm too weak for that. I need to save energy if I want to have some form of dignity left.

My eyes moved down my body taking in the little clothing I still had on. My bra was missing a strap and its dark blue was turned into a dark purple from the blood stains.

There was a heart shaped mark carved into my skin right above where my actual heart would lie in my chest.

I can no longer tell if I still had a heart or not because I couldn't feel it beating. The only thing I could feel were the injuries and the humiliation. I don't care if I no longer have a heart because there is no need for one. Who needs a heart when you have a sassy mouth that can get into trouble no matter how much of a good heart you have?

I pushed that worry deep inside my brain. I still had other damages on my body to assess.

Both of my shoulders had stab wounds in them making any movement in my arm embarrassingly impossible. There was too much blood covering my arms to see the exact damaged caused by the maniac in the next room.

I strained my neck as much as possible to see my wounded stomach. There was a long line carved into my skin with two intersecting lines crossing its path. It look me a moment to realize what those lines were supposed to be.

This dick cut the lines where my abs are showing. Ugh, I worked hard to make my body look decent enough to be accepted as 'flattering' in this fucked up society, I didn't need his help of carving me u like a pumpkin.

There are no more bikinis for me, ever. These cuts will surely scar. Of course, this is all assuming that I will make it out of this mess alive. The man in the next room seems like the kind of person who will use the body of a young woman then throw her away like trash. I wish I could tell him that he is the trash here. Anyone who has to force another person to have sex with them doesn't deserve sex at all.

I know that he certainly doesn't.

Before I could finish my overview of my damaged self, the man hung up the phone and stomped his fat form into his room with a nasty smirk plastered on his face.

He shut the door behind himself and stood there, looking at me waiting. He's waiting for me to beg for release, for all of this to be over! I can't believe this! Does this man honestly think that I am so weak that I would give into him at the first sight? I don't think so. That is not how I run my life. I never give up right away. Sure, I have quit things before but I always have had a good excuse to do so.

I won't give this creep the satisfaction of making me beg.

He chuckled and looked down at his dirty work boots before speaking in his sickening voice, "Imma take a piss, and then we can have some fun. How does that sound, pet?"

I didn't answer him. Instead I gave him a cold and hurtful stare, but he let the notion slide. He walked into the adjoining bathroom then shut and locked the door.

Huh, must be a habit, locking the door. Why would he do that if it slows down his time of getting out of the bathroom? If he heard me escaping, shouldn't he want to be there as fast as possible?

Whatever, his loss.

I knew that this was my only chance of escape but I could barely move my head! How am I supposed to get out of here? Wherever 'here' is…

I told myself that I would count to three and spring out of bed and make my escape. How hard could that be?

One…

Two…

Three!

I clenched my jaw and pulled at my almost naked form to fight out of bed. I gave up after only gaining a few inches of air away from the bed. The torturous pain was too much for me.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to channel my strength to try one more time.

I hoisted my broken body up again, effectively opening the wounds that were beginning to scab over. It took all of my will power not to scream out in agony in the endless pain that suffocated my body and mind alike.

I was forced to venture through the pain because I needed to get out.

I managed to sit up. I swung my legs over the bed while gasping for air to relieve the pain. I slid off of the bed and put one foot in front of another as fast as I could to get out of this hell hole.

I exited his bedroom to come face with a living room with a kitchen across from it. I looked to my left to find a window. I didn't venture over to it because I was afraid of the pain it would cause. I could see that we were in an apartment in London. Okay, good, a city.

To my right was the door out of his home. I made a B-line for it, ignoring the pain caused by my movements.

I practically ran out the apartment, the adrenaline flowing through my body is giving me a high like no other, naturally numbing the searing in my body.

I ignored the elevator entirely not trusting it for some reason. I made my way down the stairs as fast as I could. I made it down eight levels when I heard him walking up the stairs. I knew it was him. I could practically smell the sweat and alcohol on him and it made me want to vomit almost instantly.

Damn! He must have realized I was missing then had taken the elevator down and is now making his way up the stair in search for me.

I made my way onto the nearest floor. I barely noticed the dark green sign that had a giant 9 painted on it. I started running down the hallway as fast as I could, despite my protesting injuries, trying to look for a place to hide from the monster.

In the search for a hiding place I missed a door opening and a man stepping out. He caught my shoulders with a firm yet gentle grasp as I ran into him at full speed.

I looked up to meet his gaze. Those green eyes bore into my soul with a deep intensity, like he was reading my entire past. His eyes left mine when I whimpered from the applied pressure on my stabbed shoulders.

His large hands removed themselves from my arms and a concerned look crossed his face as he took in my entire body. I was still looking at his face, his beautiful face. It was perfect. His cheekbones are sharp and angular and his nose not too big, but certainly not small either. But his eyes, they were something not to be trifled with.

I could tell with one look that he has seen so much pain and darkness in the world but he has mastered a youthful façade over it. His green eyes seemed to shine blue for a moment before returning to a darker green than before.

His eyes seemed to hold all of his secrets. I wish that I could stare into them all day but I was interrupted by a burning sensation focused on my body.

I noticed that it was his eyes again. They were drilling a hole into me with only a light gaze. I don't know how that is even possible, but he is doing a fine job of it.

His eyes were roaming my body when I finally looked away from his face.

He could really see all of me. I was only wearing a broken bra and underwear so nothing was left to the imagination, but I had a feeling that his imagination was on a standstill at the moment.

"You need a hospital," he stated obviously. His voice was silky smooth yet forceful and commanding. I almost agreed to his command when my senses came back.

"No," I protested, my voice betraying my sudden wave of confidence. He tilted his head to the side in confusion. "He will find me there. I can't go back. He will hurt me," a tear made its way down my cheek moistening the dried blood and washing it down my face.

He seemed to contemplate something for a moment when he suddenly pulled my inside of his apartment with a firm hold on my wrist.

"You will hide here for the time being until I can figure out what to do with you. I don't even know who you are running from but I can guess why, I think it would be best if you remain in my care until you are fully healed," he spoke confidently. He pulled my wrist again to sit my on his soft leather couch. I only noticed that he had a laptop bag when he was removing it from his tall form. He pulled his suit jacket from his shoulders onto my own for warmth.

I looked for a nearby blanket but I had no such luck. What, does he never get cold? Impossible.

"B-but I don't even know your name," I managed through my broken voice.

"As do I," he responded smoothly.

I contemplated telling him my name. He could be just like the man I was so desperately running from. Yet, he doesn't act like him at all. His whole posture shows that he is way above something like that. He knows it too. He knows that he is better than most people. That feeling radiates off of him. The feeling of confidence and power, power over others seeps into me.

His clothes showed his confidence and importance as well. The suit jacket is nice. I recognize it as the newest Westwood model and the faint smell of cologne one the jacket was a nice sent. I could smell it all day if given the chance.

Even his laptop bag is expensive. This man clearly had a lot of money, but he looked so young. He could really only be about 32 years old. He must be smart. Only someone smart could have all of this money and be so young.

Well, that's not entirely true. He could be a model. He certainly looks like one. His body is tall, well over six feet. Plus, he is fit. He's not a large man by any means, but his muscles are toned in a delightful way.

He caught me staring and smirked, still awaiting my name.

The confidence and power that radiated off of him made me feel safe for the time being, so I managed to mutter three words hoping it would draw his name out.

"Avery. Avery Novak."

"Loki."