Chapter 4

Natalie was sure she was going to die.

She woke up to her head throbbing so hard she was sure her brain was going to launch itself right through her skull. She found herself sitting in an old, rusting lawn chair with her arms twisted uncomfortably behind her back and tied together with rope that was rubbing her wrists raw. She was in someone's living room, the smell of old cigarettes and body odor along with the general look of the room was almost nauseating. She looked over to a window layered with a film of grime, telling her it was around mid-day when she woke up. Whoever was holding her captive didn't bother putting the AC on, so her whole body had a layer of thick sweat caked onto her skin that only made her feel all the more like death. If the plan in this was to cook her to death, she felt she was halfway through being well done.

She tried pulling against the rope in an attempt to break free, but her weakened state only made the rope cut deeper into the sores developing on her wrists to the point that the brunette was sure she was bleeding. She wondered briefly how long she had been out, but there wasn't any hint to tell her whether or not she had only been knocked out for a few hours or even a few days, but by the sound of the low, pained growl in her gut that told her she needed to eat before her stomach decided to eat itself, she was sure she had been there for a while.

The tense silence was broken when a Lost member came through the door. His head was shaven much like many of the other members, his skin scabbed and sagging from the drug abuse that was so common among the gang. He gave her no time to plead for her release, grabbing the pistol that was tucked in his jean's waistband and pointing the barrel of the gun towards her, making her skin crawl. He approached her, lifting his booted foot and tipping back the chair she was sitting on far enough so she and it fell down, the back of her head smacking against the threadbare carpet beneath them, the throbbing reaching all new levels of pain as she made a pathetic yelp, hissing through her teeth as the pain settled into her skull.

"Now I'm going to say this once." He started, his voice menacing and low as he knelt down and looked straight down at her, his pupils looking like needle points and his nostrils flaring, apparently needing to be high to get through this interrogation "Where does Trevor cook his meth?"

Her heart was punching against her ribcage, her eyes wide in fear, "I-I don't know! I don't know anything about him!" She choked out, the tough bravado she usually put on failing her as her panic was skyrocketing.

He gave a harsh, but unamused laugh, his rough, calloused hands snaking around her narrow throat, squeezing her neck threateningly with his fingertips, "You fucking work for him, how do you not know anything?" He demanded, small droplets of spit escaping his mouth and landing on her face, she winced.

The hand around her neck didn't block off her airway any, but the putrid air around her feeling like it was thinning as panic was taking over her frazzled senses, her breathing began to quicken. She wondered if there was any way she could ever make it out of this trailer alive, and even if she did sing like a bird for the people holding her here about the information she had no hopes of knowing, she wasn't sure how she could survive after ratting on Trevor, who looked like he wasn't too big a fan of betrayal.

Nat seemingly had a choice of dying; with a bad attitude the entire way and some pride, or dying a filthy snitch, and since an option to live didn't seem to exist in this, she'd be damned if she was going to go out a snitch. So she swallowed the thick lump in her throat, taking a deep breath she hoped he didn't notice, and simply glared daggers at him as her response, praying she looked a hell of lot tougher than she felt.

Judging by the look on her abuser's face -who looked rather pissed off- it was working. The few teeth still in his mouth gritting together in frustration, "Stupid bitch!" He barked at her, the hand around her neck moving away to form into a tight fist, smashing right into her jaw with a sick popping noise.

She cried out when her jaw went slack on impact, her feeling teeth crack and break away and blood pooling in her mouth. She glanced up at him, seeing a twisted smile on his face from seeing her in so much pain. She did the only thing she could, spitting the blood and teeth right back at him, a light splatter of red staining his already roughed up face. His smile dropped into a scowl, this time bringing his fist to her eye socket, she let out another pained yell at that, the muscle around her eye already feeling like it was swelling from the damage.

Someone else entered the front door, a man she recognized hanging around her trailer before, he crossed his arms and shook his head at the sight of the two, "Dammit Charlie, can you not lose your shit for a fucking hour?"

Charlie slowly stood back up, smearing her blood off his face with the back of his hand, "Bitch had it coming." Was all he could say as he took a step away from her, the other man clearly having more authority in this.

The new guy walked to her, hauling her and the chair back up to a sitting position, alleviating the pressure of laying on her arms, "Now c'mon brother, did you even ask her if she knew where the cook site was?" He sounded like someone trying to calm a child, despite them both looking roughly the same age.

"Yes!" He defended, his agitation rising, "She won't say anything, Trevor must be paying the bitch well." Natalie wondered in the back of her mind if this guy legitimately thought that her name was really 'bitch'.

The other guy looked to Natalie for confirmation. She only returned his gaze, her throbbing jaw setting her mouth in a hard lie.

He frowned, shaking his head, "You know you can make this easy on yourself, sweetheart. I really don't want to hurt a pretty lady any more than I have to. So just tell me, as a personal favor... where does Trevor cook?" He had a calm tone in his voice, but she knew better than to think it was anything near friendly. She noticed that he seemed less drug addled compared to the rest of his MC buddies, his physical features more worn and wrinkled from hard work in the sun than substance abuse and his attitude less erratic from sober living, but she knew better than to think he could be any less dangerous than the rest of them.

Either way, she didn't soften from her tough mentality, "I already told him what I know; I don't know anything. I just do what he tells me and I don't ask questions." She spoke with finality, wanting this nightmare to be done and over with.

He grinned at that, his teeth yellowing, "What a good quality in a worker. Even better in a woman." That earn a short laugh from Charlie who hung around behind him, "I admire your loyalty, Trevor hooked himself a good one, but that's just not going to work out for us." He explained in a way that seemed scolding. His superiority complex getting on her nerves.

He stepped behind her, reaching down with a pocket knife in his hand, sawing through the rope that was keeping her tied until her hands were let loose. She wasn't given a second to escape, the man grabbing her arm and jerked her up roughly. She didn't realize how truly disoriented and weak she felt until her knees felt weak and almost buckled under her weight, but the man holding her seemed to be the one supporting her the most. She drug over to a dining table deeper in the trailer, he then forced down to her knees with her chin hitting the table top. The arm that was being held was now pressed firmly against the table, the Lost member's arm pinning her wrist down, causing the sores on her wrist to ache.

He spoke with the same calmness as before, but this time Natalie could detect a threatening note, something that made the hair's on her neck rise us, "I'll ask you one more time before I do something none of us will like, and please don't make me do it... where does Trevor Philips cook his methamphetamine?"

She had no clue what was in store after she answered, but there wasn't much time to think. She wondered if these were her last moments alive, she didn't want to die afraid, but damn it, she had no choice in this. She could hear Charlie walking closer, now directly behind her to her right. He had to be loving this, the sadistic bastard she thought. She knew she was visibly panicking by then, unable to help the threat of tears scratch away at her eyes.

She briefly thought of home in Paleto Bay, she should've been a better daughter, a better sister, maybe if she did as she was expected to do she wouldn't be held captive at the hands of a drugged up gang, waiting to die. She wondered if her family would even remember her, for their peace of mind, she hoped they didn't.

She finally squeezed her eyes shut, her entire body tense with anticipation, taking a deep breath that left her mouth shaky, before finally spoke, speaking as evenly as she could, her fear not showing "I don't know."

Natalie heard what sounded like a knife stabbing through wood, along with something else she couldn't figure out, but there was no pain, no suffering, she wondered if she was even still alive. She poked one eye open, looking to her hand. Something was missing, and it wasn't hard for her to figure out.

Her finger.

Her pointer finger wasn't there. Pure horror drained the blood from her face. She lifted her hand up, trying to convince herself it was still there. No, just empty space and blood. Her scream of terror rang through the trailer before the shock went away and the pain set in.

The pain was something beyond what she could imagine, so horrible that all that she had dealt with through this whole ordeal couldn't even compare. It took all of her willpower not to throw up right there as tears spilled down her swelling cheeks and screams left her mouth. But there was nothing she could do when sound was fading away and her vision blurred into blackness once again.