Notes: Well, this is the first chapter. I tried my best, but I really don't think the editing is up to scratch... And I have no idea how the plot is going to turn out at this stage, so the second chapter may take a while to come out. c: Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hills Have Eyes or any of its characters and themes. But I do own Mirrie Ramshead.

~BeastFindsBeauty

It has been days, and my heart is still pounding against my chest. Each pulse ripples its fear through my icy blood, I am almost paralysed. It's not healthy for the human body to be constantly pumped with adrenaline over a long period of time, so I'm surprised (and extremely grateful) I still have my sanity. If it isn't the threat of the crazy, horribly mutated savages that survive in this sweltering heat that drives me insane, it would be the fumes from the hot rotting flesh suspended near the room I've been locked into. Its raw, maggot-filled stench constantly seeps under the door, and makes me dizzy. The past few days are blurry, and my thoughts have run wild. So far, I've narrowed them down a theory that I'm being held as fresh meat for this clan, and each day as I'm thrown some item of preserved junk food, it seems to be the right assumption. I just wonder when they'll burst into the room with their butcher knives and hooks and finally kill me..

I was lying on the dusty concrete floor, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The paint was a boring grey, peeling heavily in most places. The only window rattled in its frame as a light desert wind picked up outside. The whole set up of this disgusting room was depressing, and as I ravaged the most recent packet of crisps I began to unconsciously form a mental image of my death. Bloody, twisted and detailed. As you can imagine, it didn't make me feel any better. I swallowed the last stale crisp, setting aside the empty bag, and began to sing to pass the time.

I've been living like this for almost eight days. Ever since that frightening struggle a week ago, my mind has gone into a numb state, I refuse to believe this is happening to me. I refuse to accept that I'm trapped in a village of savage cannibals, separated from my best friend, Bernice. I was extremely worried for her, she was also taken, but then most of my feelings slipped under the veil of numbness that covers my mind. I instantly felt better.

Apparently my singing attracted someone's attention, because as I finished the last verse of my favourite song, I heard scampering footsteps stop outside the door. My breath caught in my throat as I instinctively backed into a corner, pressing myself against the grime smeared wall. The door clicked and opened slowly, and I threw my hands over my face. I probably looked like an idiot, but I couldn't bear to look any of these... these things at all. Whoever was in the doorway hadn't moved, hadn't lunged forward to slice me in half and tear out my insides like I expected. I could only hear the sound of their choked, uneven breathing. They sounded... female, less menacing, so I dared to peak through my hands.

There was a girl, who looked a little younger than me, standing quietly in the doorway. Her face was strangely disfigured, and her thin, unkempt hair was mostly hidden beneath the hood of a bright red sweater. I lowered my arms slowly, staring at this girl, who stared back in just as much fear as me. I ran my tongue over my horribly chapped lips, attempting to speak. But I choked on my own words.

'Mirrie?' the girl whispered.

The word was like a blade sliding across my sunburnt skin. How the hell did she know my name? The girl's voice was faint, although friendly, and it definitely compensated for her creepy appearance. It was like she was struggling to talk, and to me nonetheless. Me, her clan's prisoner. My heart warmed in appreciation for her, which was very strange, as the girl could be no different from the rest. She was one of them. But I had been starved of human company, of compassion, for almost a week in this rotting, hazy prison cell – I couldn't help it. I emerged from my numb stupor that instant and I smiled. I regretted it though, as my cracked lips began to bleed.

'How did you know?' I choked out. My voice sounded terrible, despite being able to sing perfectly normally moments before.

The girl considered my question, and shrugged. I shook my head, and stood up slowly, several questions bubbling on my lips.

'W-What the hell is going on here?' I spat.

I was deathly afraid for my friend, Bernice again. We had decided to take a road trip, travelling all the way to Florida in America only to find out our flight to San Diego was cancelled due to "complications". So we decided to rent a van and hit the road. God knows how we ended up here.

The girl screwed up her face in confusion. 'Papa wanted... a-a woman...'

I began to pace, my shaking legs refusing to find an easy walking pattern. Fuck! What the hell do these people want with us? Papa wanted a woman? What the hell did that mean?

Without thinking, I stomped over to the girl and gripped her arms, attempting to scream my frustration into her. She was my only human (close to it) means of venting my resurfacing feelings. But the words I wanted to snarl at her wouldn't come out of my mouth. I paused, shoved her back and retreated to the corner, massaging my forehead. I didn't run for the door, as I had made that mistake already, and I don't live by the "freedom, or die trying" rule. I'm quite a coward, actually. I looked back up, fighting back the guilt, anguish and fear that was rising from within the dark reaches of my mind.

The girl hadn't moved, but her concentration seemed to be focused on something else. She looked scared, and that didn't help. Suddenly, I could hear what she was hearing. Uneven footsteps, lobbing down the hallway toward the room.

I bit my lip as a sickly, thin man slipped into the room, hunched by the weight of a strip of what appeared to be heavy looking road spikes draped around his shoulders. His skin was red and blistered with sunburn, clothes shabby and worn out, greying hair wild, but what made me scream was his disfigured face, lip rising up in a cleft, his jaw oddly angled into a permanent snarl.

'Shut it!' he barked at me, taking hold of the girl's arm. He beared his yellowing teeth as I fell silent. As I stared, I reluctantly remembered the night these people beaten and kidnapped Bernice and I, this savage was referred to as Lizard by one of the others. What the hell kind of name is that? Lizard.

'Ruby,' he hissed to the girl. She shrieked as she was yanked toward the door. 'Now get! Little slut, stop your messin' with us.'

As Ruby was abruptly pushed out of the room, I instantly regretted my actions to pass up such an easy shot at escape. I should have run. But now I'm trapped inside my cell with a disfigured, abusive cannibal.