Warnings: Discussions of non-con, past implied non-con, and pretend non-con. NON-CON. NON-CON EVERYWHERE. OC's as well.


Maya woke up as someone carefully pulled away from her, cool air flooding into the space they left at her back. Cold, she grumbled unhappily as she opened her eyes.

The room wasn't familiar, paint peeling down the walls, a couple of dusty boxes in the corner and a sad looking chair. Startled, she raised her head.

Mickey moved around his meager belongings, picking up his discarded clothes and dropping them in a corner. The events of the night before flooded back to Maya in vivid Technicolor, her hand flying to her throbbing neck. The pile of blankets beside her rustled, Lily poking her head out.

"Maya?" she whispered. Mickey ignored both of them, pulling clean clothes out of one of the boxes. He had pulled on a pair of jeans but they hung low on his hips, unbuttoned. Maya's assessment of him last night had been accurate, he was muscled and toned, and in any other circumstance she may have been interested.

As it was, she felt a hum of resentment as she sat up, every muscle protesting. The fight yesterday, her rough treatment as she was dragged around like some sort of object, and now the bruises and bites Mickey had marked her with…she felt like a piece of meat. Away from the fear of the night and in the light of day, Maya let herself feel angry, trying to ignore the hot embarrassment of the memory of her grinding Mickey's lap like some sort of teenager.

Adrenaline and fear, she reassured herself. Nothing more.

Lily was trembling, staring at her with wide eyes. Maya beckoned her over, knowing what she must look like.

"Come here, Lil, I'm okay," she said, barely opening her arms before Lily was in them, clutching her in a desperate hug.

"Maya," Lily sobbed, jamming her face into Maya's tender neck. Maya hissed, but didn't pull away, stroking the girl's hair. In the morning light Maya could see both of their wrists were chafed and raw, painful to touch.

Mickey glanced over, eyes meeting hers. "Get her ready," he said, voice flat. "Got work to do." There was no trace of the soft-voiced Mickey Maya had let mark her last night, just a hardened Wilkerson ready to face the day.

She glowered at him darkly, but knew she needed to do as he said. Despite last nights…conclusion, he hadn't forced her to do anything, hadn't taken advantage any more than she had let him. Now she needed to convince everyone else that she could be a docile obedient…whatever she was.

Maya pulled Lily away from her neck. "Lil, I need you to listen to me. There are things we're expected to do, and we need to do them quietly and obediently. Don't look at anyone, keep your head down and stay close to me."

Lily snuck a look at Mickey. "But…what about…"

"Mickey has me," Maya said, hating that she had to tell the lie to keep Lily safe. Let her think what she wanted, if Lily believed it, the other men would too. Someday, when they got out of this hell, Maya would tell her the truth. "He won't touch you, but you need to do exactly what he says. Okay? Promise me, Lil."

She was shaking, but Lily nodded. "I…I promise, Maya."

Maya looked over at Mickey. "What do we do?"

Mickey pulled a plain white t-shirt over his head, doing up his jeans and grabbing his usual red plaid over shirt. "Follow me. I'll take ya out back to the kitchens and they'll find work for you both."

Maya picked at the overlarge shirt Mickey had lent her last night. "And clothes, shoes?"

Mickey grabbed his own boots, pulling them on and lacing them up with quick movements. "I'll find somethin' later."

Lily's torn top still gaped, so using her hair tie; Maya scrunched the fabric up and tied it off, hiding Lily's shoulders. It meant Maya's hair cascaded freely, no doubt mussed and crazy, but she could deal. Lily's eyes were puffed and red, eyeing Maya's neck worriedly as they got to their feet, but she was quiet, trailing behind Maya as she in turn followed Mickey.

It was still early morning, most of the house still asleep as Mickey led the two women down the stairs and out the back door. She knew from visiting here before that most of the men slept out in the barn, only a select few settled in the house. Maya studied the house as they moved through, committing everything to memory. Who knew when their opportunity to escape might come, and she wasn't going to miss it when it did.

The weapons locker was in the same place, locked by the looks of it. Maya wondered if it was there Mickey kept his rifle, it certainly hadn't been in the room last night.

A few men had passed out on the porch but Mickey stepped over them without glancing twice, and Maya followed, Lily's sweaty hand firmly grasped in hers.

Behind the house there was a rickety building that could have been a barn at one point, but was now just a skeleton. The roof remained but two of the walls had holes in them, and judging from how the vegetation spilled through it, it had been like that a while.

Under the creaking roof, rows of wooden tables had been set up, with a menagerie of odd chairs and stools. A few women rushed between the tables, setting out bowls and spoons while two sentries watched them, guns held loosely. A fire was crackling outside the building, set little ways away, a stooped old woman peering into a large cast iron pot suspended over the flames. She was dressed in a long skirt and blouse, standing out among the younger woman in their ragged shirts and jeans. Occasionally she would stir, and as Mickey led them over to her, Maya recognized the smell of porridge in the air.

The ground was cold against Maya's bare feet, but luckily not unbearable. Hopefully Mickey would find her something by the end of the day; she didn't relish walking around barefoot all the time.

A red-head caught Maya's eye as she passed the tables, giving her a smile before ducking her head and resuming her work.

The old woman didn't look up as they approached. "The hell you want, Wilkerson? Can't you see I'm busy?"

Mickey snorted. "You're always busy doin' somethin', Sarah. I brought two new helpers for ya."

That got the woman's attention, and she turned rheumy eyes towards the pair of them. She barely acknowledged Maya, zeroing in on Lily.

"Oh my poor dove," she crooned, abandoning her pot to sweep forward. "What have those brutes done to you?"

Lily squeaked as she was swept into a hug. She looked uncertainly towards Maya, who in turn glanced at Mickey. He just looked amused, crossing his arms, and Maya relaxed a fraction.

"I 'aint touched the girl, but you know what the likes 'round here would want from her."

The old woman bared the few teeth she had, and for the first time since she was captured, Maya smiled. This woman at least would help her keep Lily safe.

"Oh aye, I know what those dogs would want with a sweet lamb like this," she spat. She released Lily, taking her arm in hers. "But don't you worry. We'll look after you; keep you busy so 'aint no-one got time to bother you."

Mickey cleared his throat. "And this one. You can pamper the girl all you want, but you gotta find work for this one too."

This one. She might as well start wearing a collar and barking.

Sarah squinted towards Maya. "Hmph. Send her over to Kelly to clean the tables. That should keep her out o' trouble."

With that, the old woman trundled away with Lily under one arm, back to the pot.

Maya nearly yelped as Mickey suddenly grabbed her arm, dragging her up against him. To anyone looking, he was probably telling her to behave, and Maya tried to school her features into an appropriate fearful look.

"Grab me like that again, and I'll punch you in the goddamn dick," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"The girl'll be safe with Sarah," Mickey murmured lowly, ignoring her threat. "You just stay outta trouble and do what you're told. I'll be back for breakfast, but there'll be all sorts of folks about, so remember what I told ya."

He pushed her hair away from her shoulders, baring her throat. Temporarily forgetting she was supposed to be playing the role of helpless victim, Maya shoved at his chest.

"I remember," she ground, glancing around to make sure they weren't being watched. "I'll behave like a good little battered woman."

Mickey let her go and the hint of a smile on his mouth made her want to hit him.

"You're off to a bad start, then. Go on. The red-head. That's Kelly, and she'll show you what to do."

"Fine," Maya said, and after a second, begrudgingly admitted that maybe she owed him more than that. "And thanks for…just…thanks."

The smile was gone, and Mickey just nodded curtly to her, turning and striding off, back towards the house. Maya tried not to watch him, steeling herself as she approached the long wooden tables. A plump blonde woman with sad eyes was putting out bowls and spoons, keeping her head low as Maya passed.

The red-head, Kelly, beckoned her over with a friendly smile. "Hi there, don't be a stranger. Guess you're joining our little family."

Maya grimaced, rubbing her arm awkwardly. "Is that what they call it?"

The friendly smile faltered. "It's what I call it to get through the day."

Maya glanced along the tables. She could only see three other women, including the sad blonde. A dark-haired woman somewhere in her thirties, and a young brunette probably only just eighteen.

"I came here with two other women," she said quietly. "Have…have you seen them?"

Kelly turned her eyes back to the table, carefully setting out the cutlery. "No. I don't think you will either for a few more days at least."

"Days?" Maya's stomach plummeted, throat burning. "What…why?"

Kelly shrugged. "Have to be patched up by Doc and heal before they can work. I'm surprised you're even up and walking, but I suppose I've seen stranger things."

Her blue eyes flickered furtively to Maya's neck. "Heard what you did, offering yourself to save that girl. You just keep him too busy between your thighs to think about hers, yeah? It'll happen sooner or later, but she's so young…"

She shook herself. "Anyways. I'm Kelly. You're…?"

"Maya," Maya managed numbly, head spinning. "I'm…Maya."

That bright smile was back. "Maya, that's a nice name. How 'bout you help me set the table? Should go quicker with both of us."

Maya took the bowls and spoons offered to her, moving down the table and setting out the places in a daze.

"What about the men?" she asked, when she had finished the one table. "There were three of them-"

"I wouldn't think about them," Kelly replied cheerfully. "Better to put them from mind and concentrate on your work."

Unnerved, Maya did as she was told. Once the places were set, she followed Kelly back to Sarah, where Lily was stirring the huge pot of oatmeal. Smaller steaming pots had already been put out on the tables, and it would be Maya's duty to refill them when needed.

The dark haired woman and brunette were there, the blonde hovering near the tables.

Kelly introduced them as Janet and Crystal, and the blonde was Penny. Janet looked over Maya with a critical eye that in any other circumstance Maya would have bristled at.

"So that's what Mickey's into," she sniffed as if Maya was somehow a letdown. There was a hand-shaped bruise on Janet's jaw that was fading, but still stark against her pale skin. "Well at least we know he's not queer."

The young brunette, Crystal, huffed. "Don't be so goddamn pissy, Jan." She leaned towards Maya as if sharing a secret. "She's just mad 'cause she had her eye on him."

"I did not! He's far too bestial for my tastes."

"Yeah right, I saw you with Hairy Harry the other night! He's practically half-bear!"

Maya stared at the two women as they bickered. Anyone listening would just assume they were out for a friendly gossip, picking out men they liked and not actually forced into some sort of fucked up sexual servitude.

Kelly crossed her arms, shaking her head. "Don't mind them. It's just how they cope with how life is now."

Sarah made a rude noise over by Lily. "'Aint no copin' to be had, girl. We're slaves, and that's the end of it. Slaves at the whim of our masters, who happen to be the worst kind of men."

How had Maya not seen this when she had come here last, ready to drag Doc away to help Ed? Why hadn't the doctor said anything? Maybe…maybe she could have done something, warned someone…

"Does Doc know about this?" she asked. "Where is he?"

Sarah snorted. "Well he does now. Was always away treatin' folks so he's never been 'round to see much. But he was 'round last night and saw them bring your lot in. Didn't take too kindly to it, and Job didn't take too kindly to his whinin'."

"He's probably locked up in the basement," Janet offered, picking at her nails. "That's where they tend to put the troublemakers. Those women of yours are probably there too."

"But it's no concern of ours," Kelly said sharply, reprimanding. "'Aint our place to judge."

Lily whimpered. Crystal pulled herself away Janet, hurrying to the girl's side. "Oh don't cry hon, it's not so bad. Once you get used to it that is, and some of them are gentle enough."

One of the sentries yelled something, firing his gun. In the tree-line a zomb flopped down, rotting head obliterated.

"And there's worse out there," Kelly said grimly as the one sentry high-fived the other. "Much worse."

Maya disagreed. She'd rather deal with the zombs. Those, she knew what to do with.

The shot woke up the rest of the crew it seemed, because within twenty minutes the dining area was crawling with men. Lily wisely stayed with Sarah at the cooking pot, and Maya kept to the side, eyes staring down at her feet. Each woman was in charge of a table, keeping bowls and glasses full, and though some men had made grabs at the others, none had tried it on Maya.

Until one did.

Maya recognized him as one of the men who had launched the assault on the church, a heavy set man sporting a bristling beard on his cheeks but thin hair on his skull. When he reached out to pinch her thigh, Maya had to fight not to turn and break his arm in return.

"Looks like you had a rough night, sweetcheeks," he guffawed, grabbing her sore wrist and pulling her down into his lap. He reeked of body odor and cigarette smoke, and Maya struggled against him, twisting in his grasp.

"Let me go!" she snapped, and the men around them laughed. Oh how she wanted to hurt him. She knew all the best points to hit, where to aim and what to break. She could kill him in less than a minute but she couldn't. They'd hurt Lily.

"Got a fire in 'er!" Someone shouted. "Better show 'er who-"

Maya didn't hear the rest of it, because the bearded man backhanded her, sending her careening against the opposite table. Bowls of porridge went flying, caking Maya's arms where she tried to stop her face from smacking against wood. She slumped to the floor, dazed.

Beardy laughed to the chorus of his friends. "Clumsy slut!"

Maya's head throbbed, her cheek smarting. A cruel hand grabbed a fistful of hair, dragging her up and against one dirt-stained leg. Maya struggled, planting her porridge covered hands on his thighs as he tried to force her face into his musky smelling crotch.

Don't fight too hard, she yelled at herself, forcing herself to collapse limply against him. Let them underestimate you. If you bite the hand now, you won't get a chance at the throat later.

As the laughter built around her, Maya burned with shame and anger. There was nothing for it; she'd have to endure whatever this bastard wanted to do to her.

Her skin crawled as he pushed her nose into the seam of his jeans, the metal zipper biting into her lips. She held her breath, hoping that was all he was going to do, but his hand went to his button.

"Think I'll make you suck me off as an apology," Beardy announced. "Maybe that'll teach ya to be less clumsy."

Despite the voice yelling in her head, Maya gave one last effort to push on his thighs, straining to break his hold. He let her go, and surprised, Maya fell flat on her butt, gazing up at him through the mess of her now tangled hair.

Beardy stood stock still, frozen in place. There was a knife at his throat, pressed tight to the folds of his neck and as Maya watched, a bead of blood welled and spilled, running down the blade like a tear.

Mickey had his hand clamped on the back of the man's neck, threatening to push him down onto the blade. None of the men were laughing now.

"Now just what the hell do ya think you're doin, Jake?" he asked conversationally. "Playin' around?"

Jake gulped. "I was just…she was-"

Mickey bared his teeth, pressing the knife harder against Jake's quivering throat. The man whimpered.

"She's mine, fucker," Mickey hissed. "She's my goddamn property and you touched her."

Maya was too relieved to see him to feel offended at his words.

Behold how the alpha male establishes dominance, Maya mused to herself, feeling a thrill of satisfaction as the man who had hit her trembled like a babe in the face of Mickey's anger. She kept her head down however, remembering Mickey's warnings.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Mickey. It won't happen again, I swear."

Maya was almost disappointed when he was released; the only damage a thin cut at his neck and a heavy blow to his pride.

"You're goddamn right it won't. Now you get down on your knees and apologize to the lady."

It was a humiliation tactic, Maya realized, as the men at the tables started jeering the friend they had cheered on only seconds before. Forcing a man to apologize to a lowly woman…how terribly embarrassing.

Rage curled hot and dark in Maya's belly. She had never hated a whole group of people before, but in that moment she hated all of these men. She wanted them dead.

"Mickey, man-"

"It weren't a request," Mickey smiled, but it was frightening thing to see. "On your knees, boy."

There were hoots and catcalls as Jake got clumsily to his knees, his face red and eyes furious.

Under Mickey's watchful eye, he apologized, mostly to the floor. Maya said nothing, not trusting herself. If she opened her mouth now only anger would flood out, hot and damning.

Mickey snorted, the knife disappearing back into one of his pockets. "Alright. Get off the floor, you fuckin' asshole."

Jake was all too happy to obey, scrambling away and fleeing to a chorus of laughter and whistles. Mickey watched him go, turning and taking the spot at the table he had occupied. The men shifted respectfully to make room as one of the other women hurriedly brought him a bowl. Maya stayed unmoving on the floor, porridge cooling on her skin.

Finally, as if only noticing her again, Mickey snapped his fingers towards her.

"Get over here, gal. Warm my lap some."

The men chuckled, all watching as Maya slowly got to her feet, squelching through the overturned porridge. Impatiently, Mickey grabbed one messy arm, hauling her sideways onto his lap. The men laughed and Mickey smiled with them, but Maya could feel how tense he was, his thighs jerking beneath her. She found herself relaxing slightly at that, the reminder that this was an act.

"Jesus, I leave her alone for two seconds and already someone's tryin' to get a piece," Mickey grumbled, grabbing the dishcloth Penny offered him and rubbing down Maya's arms briskly. Maya kept her head bowed meekly, trying to look as pathetic as she could manage.

"Can you blame 'im?" Someone said, off to the right. "She's a fine piece of ass, Mickey. You 'aint gonna share 'er?"

Maya stiffened, and Mickey fixed whoever spoke with a glare. "I'd be a damn fool if I did. Lettin' all of ya stick your diseased cocks up in her."

Finished with her arms, Mickey tilted her head up, sweeping her hair away from her shoulders to deliberately show off the marks as he dabbed at her temple. She could feel eyes on her, but Maya kept her gaze on Mickey's jaw, ignoring them.

Mickey grimaced as if displeased. "Look at that. I kept her face pretty for a damn reason. Fuckin' asshole."

He pushed her away, slapping her ass for good measure as she stood shakily. Maya gritted her teeth, keeping her head down. "Go do somethin' useful. And stay outta goddamn trouble."

Maya was only too happy to obey, fleeing back towards Sarah and a shocked looking Lily, her pride stinging as badly as her face.

"Maya are you okay?" the girl whispered. She gasped, motioning to Maya's cheek. "Oh…your face…"

Maya smiled, but it pulled the throbbing side of her cheek. She touched it gingerly, feeling the edges of what was going to be a wicked bruise. "I'm fine, Lil. You just concentrate on that porridge."

She glanced at Sarah, and the old woman shook her head sadly. Maya sighed.

It was going to be a long, horrible, day.


No matter how she tried to weed out the information, none of the women would tell Maya what might become of the rest of her group. They urged her to forget her old life and accept the new, that it would serve her better and help Lily adjust. It made Maya sick, reminded her of some sort of cult mentality, and it probably wasn't far off from what was actually happening.

From what she could gather, Job had illusions of grandeur, building a group that would not only outlast the zombs but then would repopulate the barren town, with him as its kingpin. Despite being the older brother Mickey acted as Job's second, the intimidating muscle to enforce his brother's rule. The other women didn't seem to know much about him, just that the men avoided him and tried to stay on his good side, if he even had one.

Janet and Crystal competed with each other based on which men they were with. There was a scoring system, Crystal told her, helping Maya clear up breakfast. Low points for men who were runners, high points for more esteemed members of Job's crew, like right hand men or the Wilkersons themselves. First one pregnant by the highest scoring man won. Maya had decided to stop asking about it after that, not able to stomach the blasé way the two women treated the whole thing.

Penny was traumatized and never spoke to anyone, just went about her duties quietly but efficiently. The rest of her group had been killed, Janet told Maya, including her husband, and the woman had never recovered.

Sarah had lived in the town before zombies started rising. A retired school teacher, she was too old to garner much male interest, but she looked after the other women, gave out tasks to be done that day and kept the whole place running. Now she was also helping shield Lily from leering eyes, so despite how indifferently she treated Maya, Lily was at least safe.

Kelly was the closest to Maya's own age and was the one to answer most of Maya's questions. She didn't offer any insights into where she came from or how she came to be with the Wilkersons, just seemed to have an eternally cheerful outlook on her predicament . It was how she dealt with it Maya knew, but it still made her skin crawl. All of the women treated their lives as normal in their own ways, coping as well as they could. Maya could admire them for that, but resolved that she would never become one of them.

She had to get out, somehow. But there was no way she could just slip away under the cover of darkness and abandon all these women. She had contemplated it, studied the defenses surrounding the house and dining area and planned how she might do it. If travelling on her own, she may be able to get away, but with the amount of sentries and firepower Job had, it would have been difficult. Dragging Lily, her own group and the women made it impossible.

No, she needed to wait for the opportune moment. She had to trust that Mickey would be true to his word and help her, whatever that might entail.

But it was hard. As much as Maya convinced herself she needed to follow Mickey's advice and play docile, it rankled. She was a soldier, not a victim. She fought, or she died. That had been her creed for years, and suddenly having to turn her back on it, to try and find a middle ground just to stay alive…was difficult.

That afternoon found Maya helping Crystal scrub out the filthy outhouse. Maya tried to breathe through her nose during the disgusting task, keeping her breaths shallow. The sun was warm, beating down on both women and turning the small wooden shack into an oven. Lily was safely back with Sarah and Penny, helping prepare dinner. Maya had seen a pair of squirrels and a rabbit laid out on the table, and her own stomach gurgled at the thought of meat. She hadn't eaten a proper meal for close to two days now, though Sarah had offered her a few cool sips of water to ward off the midday heat.

Crystal was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor.

"So I gotta ask you something," the young woman suddenly said, dunking the brush into the pail of murky water Maya had gathered from the creek. The stream ran out behind the house, a source of clean water as long as the zombs stayed out of it. Maya had even seen fish in it when she had filled the bucket, and had to begrudgingly admit that as far as bases went, the Barrett House was set. It looked awful, but had all the resources necessary to sustain them.

Maya glanced up from her own task of sweeping the wooden steps leading up the outhouse. The brush she had been given was old, its bristles worn away, but she stubbornly kept on.

"What's that?"

Crystal slapped the now wet brush back down with a splat. "Before all this, before all the zombies and shit, what did you do?"

Maya glanced back down at the pile of dirt she had accumulated. "Army. But I was on vacation here when it…all went down."

Crystal huffed a laugh, throwing her whole body into cleaning. "Figures. I would have pegged you a cop or something. My sister was one. You both have a sorta…look about you."

"Yeah?" Maya swept her little pile of dust and dirt off the edge of the steps, scattering it into the grass.

Crystal shrugged, eyes still on her work. "The difference in the way you look at us, and how you look at them. Protect the weak, punish the wicked or some kind of bullshit like that."

"Bullshit?" Maya leaned on her broom, frowning. "What's so bullshit about that? Men like this…they're no better than animals. We're people, Crystal. Not slaves or whatever it is we are to them."

Crystal paused in her scrubbing, laughing slightly. "My sister would have said the exact same thing. She would have stomped men like Job into the curb, rather die than let the likes of him do to her what he does to us."

There wasn't going to be a happy ending to this story, Maya knew. "What happened to her?"

"She died of course." Finished with her scrubbing, Crystal leaned back on her heels, finally looking at Maya. There were no tears in her eyes. "One of these men put a bullet between her eyes when she refused to drop her weapon and surrender."

Maya swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Crystal got to her feet, stretching her back. "I'm glad. She wouldn't have survived long here. But I have. I'm alive. There's a roof over my head, food in my belly and a hoard of men with guns between me and the dead."

Maya frowned. "This isn't safety. What they do-"

"The trouble with people like you," Crystal interrupted. "Is you're so goddamn stuck on rules, on what's right or wrong. You don't get that it's all gone. There's no army, no police. No society. He may be a creep, but Job's got the right idea, building something new. What's the point in just surviving? We need to build a life."

"I don't call this a life," Maya said quietly. "This isn't living."

Crystal sighed. "And that's why you'll die just like my sister. 'Cause people like you just don't get it. You don't know how lucky you are."

"Lucky?" Maya echoed incredulously. "What exactly is lucky about being forced into life as a slave for these assholes, cleaning and cooking and opening our legs whenever they snap their fingers? And God forbid, maybe even forced to have a baby you don't want?"

Crystal smiled like Maya was a particularly troublesome child. Crystal was younger than her for God's sake, but was making Maya feel like the young one. "Well then you get something of your very own to love. I'm not saying you have to like what they're doing, Maya. No-one likes it. But there's some good that can come from it, and a baby is one of them."

Aghast, Maya stared at the younger woman, words failing her.

"If Mickey gets a baby in you, you're set." Crystal dropped her brush into the bucket, water sloshing over the sides. "You'd be like the fucking Queen Mother. The best food, care, you name it, you'll have it. And if you have a son, maybe one day he would run his own crew."

"And be like Job?" Maya finally found her voice. "I'd rather-"

"Die?" Crystal finished dryly. "Then you will. By Job, by zombies, I dunno how, but you will. And where would that leave Lily? She's scared. You're the only thing she has right now."

"What do you want from me?" Maya hissed, fingers clenched hard around the broom handle. "I'm trying-"

"Try harder," Crystal's voice was sharp, scolding. "Don't think we haven't noticed you looking 'round. You're trying to plan an escape. And I'm telling you, stop. Stop fighting this and just accept it. You're alive, you're safe. This is as good as it's gonna get."

Maya bit down on the torrent of anger that threatened to spill out of her mouth. These women weren't like her, didn't know how powerful they could be. They would put up with a lifetime of abuse and hardship in order to feel safe, thought it was the easier alternative. Who was she to say they were wrong? Maya had never been anything than what she was. She had always been sure of herself, secure in her abilities and what she was doing. She didn't know what it was like to live in fear.

Crystal bent to pick up the bucket. "Look at Penny. She don't say much of anything and is skittish like a dog, but do you see anyone hit her? Try to force her? She eats better than the rest of us, and you know why?"

Maya had an idea, but shook her head.

"'Cause Job put a baby in her and now she's off limits. She keeps her head down, does what she's told, and no-one puts a hand on her."

Maya's heart sank. Poor Penny. Her group killed, her husband slaughtered only to-

"Why is it women always gotta gossip?"

Maya nearly dropped her broom in surprise, Crystal putting the bucket down with a clang, ducking her head respectfully.

Mickey strode towards them both, thumbs hooked into his belt like he was having an afternoon stroll.

"Remember what I said," Crystal hissed, and Maya swallowed, her stomach doing nervous flips. What if Crystal was right? If the other women had noticed how she wasn't strictly as downtrodden as she was supposed to be, who was to say Job hadn't noticed too?

Maya dropped her gaze to the ground, following Crystal's example. Her feet were still bare, the dry grass almost painful against the soles of her feet. Her toes were dirty, smudged with dirt and probably dried porridge.

"You done yet?" Mickey demanded, as aloof as royalty. Around here, he probably was.

Crystal nodded. "Yes, Sir. Is there something you need?"

"You could say that," Mickey drawled, leaning forward to grab Maya's wrist.

Maya yelped as his fingers curled around her raw skin, dropping the broom and planting a hand on his chest to break her momentum as she was crushed against him. She automatically tried to shy away from him as he bent to kiss her, but a firm hand on the back of her skull pushed her into it, his lips covering hers possessively.

Maya seized up, not moving as Mickey's beard scraped along her chin, his hand falling from her head to palm the swell of her ass instead.

He released her, curling his lip at Crystal who still stood nearby. "Go find somethin' else to do. I got business with the lady."

Crystal bobbed her head, collecting the dropped broom and bucket and starting off back towards the dining area. Mickey crowded Maya up against the rough wood of the outhouse, turning her so her face was pressed to the wall, her back to his chest.

"'M sorry but the men been talkin'," he murmured in her ear. "I gotta make a show of it to make 'em shut the hell up."

Maya gritted her teeth as he felt him undo his belt with over exaggerated movements. "And this is what you immediately thought of?"

Panic swelled in her chest, but she breathed deep, trying not to grimace at the stench wafting from beyond the closed door. Crystal's words still rang in her ears. Mickey was the only thing standing between Lily and everyone else, she needed to do what he said.

But Crystal had also been right. Doing something and liking it didn't go hand in hand. And Maya didn't appreciate being treated like a piece of meat to be pawed at.

She craned her face to glare at him, and over his shoulder she could see a group of men loitering around the porch, throwing looks their way.

"What should I do, Sir?" she snapped unhappily, flinching as she felt him push his hips flush against her ass. He still had his jeans on and firmly zipped, but her face flushed at what they must look like to the men watching.

"Fight me a lil'," Mickey said, voice flat. "Make some noise."

A hot shard of rebellion rose in her then. "That, I can do."

Furiously, Maya jabbed her elbow backward, catching him in the gut. Surprised, he stumbled back and Maya turned, leaning her back against the shack wall like a cornered cat, prickly and unhappy.

"Thought you said you'd punch me in the dick if I grabbed you," Mickey muttered, rubbing the spot she had got him. "Not the goddamn solar plexus."

Over on the porch men were shouting and booing, seemingly enjoying the show. Maya shrugged one shoulder.

"I'm saving that for later. And gotta say, impressed you even know what a solar plexus is."

She knew she couldn't show too much fight, but the tiny victory of landing even a jab made the whole incident that morning seem more tolerable. She wasn't helpless; she had the power to protect herself. She was just choosing to be vulnerable.

Yeah. She'd keep telling herself that until maybe one day she would believe it.

Mickey snorted, drawing to his full height and stepping up into her space, crowding her. He was bigger and stronger than her, but Maya knew there were other strengths than pure brawn.

"I was just gonna try n' make this easy," he said quietly, trapping Maya's wrists to the wall. She noticed he had placed his hands lower, avoiding the rope burns. "But the boys expect somethin'…better."

Maya tilted her chin defiantly, keeping her eyes on Mickey's face so she didn't have to look over at their audience. "Like?"

Mickey released her arms, hands going to his belt again. "Just do what I say and it'll be over quick."

Maya narrowed her eyes at him as Mickey pulled his belt free, feeding it back through the buckle and sliding it over Maya's offered wrists. "That sounds horrifically ominous, and if that was meant to calm me down or something, it was awful."

Mickey looped the ends of the belt around her arms, tucking it between her restrained hands. It was loose, Maya could easily wriggle out of it, but it gave the men on the porch the illusion of restraint.

"Never were much good at calmin' people," Mickey admitted, one hand resting heavy on Maya's waist.

Maya feigned shock as he pulled the loop of her restrained arms over his head, her bound hands resting at the back of his neck as if hugging him. "You don't say."

She yelped as Mickey suddenly lifted her, hands gripping the back of her thighs, and Maya had no choice but to clamp her legs around his hips to keep herself supported. In this position she was taller than him, and she could see out towards the house where men were now whistling and jeering. At least she couldn't see Job, which was some small comfort, she supposed.

Mickey at least had the sense to look apologetic as his fingers picked at her waistband. "I gotta…gotta make it look like I'm…"

"Raping me?" Maya finished for him, and the man flinched, dropping his gaze. "You know how fucked up this is right?"

She honestly didn't know what was in it for Mickey. He stomped around like some terrifying monster, growling and shouting, but here now, he looked at her sadly, his hands holding her as if she was spun glass. He could overpower her easily; just take her like the men thought he was doing. They expected it, encouraged it even, so why the deception? Didn't Mickey share his brother's views on rebuilding the town?

Maya sighed, head thudding against the wall.

"Fine. Just…get it over with."

She was wearing underwear at least, though Maya honestly didn't know how long she'd been wearing it. She wrinkled her nose at the thought as Mickey pulled down her yoga pants to mid-thigh, the fabric bunching as it caught on her knees on either side of Mickey's waist.

It was easier to think of this as some sort of game. That Mickey was a friend and they were just play-acting a parody of sex for their own amusement, not for the morbid curiosity of the audience hollering a few meters away.

She felt ridiculous. She felt degraded, and her face burned red with humiliation. She felt…goddammit she just hated this. To think, months ago Maya had been deployed on foreign sands, a gun in her hands and a squad at her back. None of the men here would have dared fuck with her then; she'd have crushed them beneath her dusty boots.

The first snap of Mickey's hips against hers was still a surprise no matter how prepared she thought she was, and Maya twisted, trying to escape. There was no-where to go though, only the wood at her back and Mickey at her front.

Mickey's hands were supporting her, warm as they held her thighs.

"Move 'round a bit, make it look like you're tryin' to get away," he grunted.

Maya made a show of writhing and scrabbling her fingers at Mickey's back, feeling like the worst porn star in history.

"So you do this often?" Maya managed between clenched teeth, trying to ignore how warm she felt every time Mickey's body made contact with hers. "Pretend-fuck girls?"

"Naw," Mickey replied, his breath coming a little harder. "Just you."

Maya snorted. "Why Mickey, am I your first? I'm fucking honored."

The shirt Mickey had given her was baggy, gaping in the neck to reveal a good deal of skin. Mickey bumped his nose against her collar bone, breath warm against her exposed skin as his hair tickled her nose.

Unlike the man who had grabbed her earlier, Mickey smelt clean, only the faint hint of sawdust in his hair. Maya arched her back, thighs already beginning to burn and wondered how this would feel if they'd been doing it willingly. Would he touch her the same way? Be rougher? She remembered the gentle press of his lips to hers in the darkness of his room compared to this…harder possession.

Which was the real Mickey? And did she even care?

"Now bite me."

Startled, Maya jerked her knee into his ribs, driving a gasp out of him.

"Jesus, this is just turning into the worst S&M porno I've ever had the misfortune to be a part of," she pulled back far enough to squint down at him. "You better not be getting off to this."

When he didn't answer her immediately, she jabbed him again with her other knee. Mickey grunted, glaring at her.

"Dammit woman, just fuckin' bite me so we can get this over with. I 'aint enjoyin' this any more than you."

Then why do it? Maya wondered. Why are you trying so hard to convince everyone you're someone you're not?

But Maya kept those questions to herself, bending to sink her face into his neck. She didn't need to strictly bite him, just the show of it would be enough, but she was feeling vindictive. Like he had with her last night, Maya chased the pulse she could feel beneath his skin, biting down hard when she found a spot she liked.

He tasted…warm. Slightly salty where the days sweat had begun to settle, but not nearly as unpleasant as Maya had expected.

Or hoped.

"Fuck!"

Mickey slammed her against the wall a little too hard, the men on the porch braying now, shouting encouragement as Mickey's ghost-thrusts became quicker.

As if shaken off, Maya pulled back, assessing her work.

"There," she smirked. "We match."

Mickey glowered at her. Maya did another show of writhing around as if trying to escape, kicking her legs and pretending to jerk on her restraints. It was a struggle not to burst out laughing at how ridiculous she felt.

"You're too goddamn good at this," she heard Mickey mutter, pressing his face up into her throat.

"What, being pretend-fucked?" She must have been woozy from the lack of food and the sun, because she was almost sure she was engaging in playful banter with Mickey Wilkerson. "What can I say; I'm a woman of many talents."

Maya jerked as she felt Mickey press his lips to one of the marks he had made on her neck.

"'M sorry it's gotta be this way," he murmured, and Maya almost couldn't hear him, her heart suddenly pounding where his lips touched skin. "But it's…it's just gotta."

Maya didn't reply, didn't know what to say.

But of course, she thought bitterly. Got to mime out a rape to save us from actual rape. Genius!

Mickey pushed against her one last time, and apparently that was their performance over.

No worse than some of my college hookups, Maya joked to herself to cover her feelings of embarrassment as Mickey released her, Maya's legs flopping back down to support her. Awkwardly, Mickey helped pull her clothes back into place.

"Somethin's goin' down soon," he said suddenly. "Somethin' big."

He pulled her arms over his head and back to her side, picking the belt free. Maya watched him carefully, nerves thrumming in her throat as her wrists were freed. "Something to do with my group?"

Mickey made a show of stepping back from her, miming the movements of tucking himself away and then doing up his belt. Done, he stepped back into her space, looming over her smaller form aggressively.

"Yeah," he sighed, and Maya could see the bone-weary fatigue in his eyes. "Way Job does it; those that resist joinin' our little group are good for nothin' but entertainment."

Maya gazed up at him fearfully, already having a good understanding for what types of entertainment Job enjoyed.

"The others," she whispered. "Please, there has to be something-"

"There 'aint nothin'," Mickey said sharply, and Maya cringed away from him, their previous banter gone. "I've already saved you and the girl, and that's the best I can do. Yours 'aint the first group Job set his eyes on and the boys just follow him like he's some goddamn messiah. We only got the few women 'ere 'cause they're the ones who wanted to live. The others…Job he…"

Mickey growled with frustration, bracketing his hands on the sun-warmed wood either side of Maya's head. "There's a chance Job'll spare some of 'em. He needs more men, and that Marcus fella is built like a linebacker. We could use 'im."

"And the women?" Maya prompted. "What about them?"

Mickey avoided her eyes, tracing the mark where Maya had been hit earlier. "The dark one, she's a goddamn hellcat. Job likes 'em fierce so he might…might not…"

Kill them, Maya thought despairingly. Job is going to kill them, I have to stop him, I have to-

Mickey hit the wood beside her head, startling her. "Don't you even think 'bout it. If you open your mouth and Job realizes you got more fight in ya, he'll expect me to set you right. Or worse, he'll think I 'aint got the stones and just do it 'imself."

His pale eyes were intense, willing her to understand. "Whatever happens, you gotta listen to me. I won't let anyone put hands on you or the girl, but that's all I can do. Understand? I can't save your friends, and I won't let you risk doin' somethin' stupid."

"Why?" Maya demanded with a fierce passion, startling them both. Anger flooded her veins, a fire fueled by the gaping hole of helplessness in her chest. "Why even protect us? What do you want, Mickey? You won't actually fuck me, won't help me save the others, so what's left?"

Mickey snarled down at her, matching her anger with his own. "You fuckin' want me to have my way with you? Maybe leave my brother to fuck you raw and bloody? No? Then keep your goddamn mouth shut and your head down like I told ya!"

He pushed away from her, straightening his shirt.

"I'll see you tonight," he said darkly. Spinning on his heel he left, leaving Maya bewildered and angry. Men shouted encouragement to him as Mickey stomped away, but he ignored them, a thundercloud practically rumbling over his head.

Maya shakily watched him go, hands curling into fists. She felt like she was stumbling on ice, and it was so thin she could hear it cracking beneath her.