I awoke in a dark, musty room with only a single window- the only source of light. I could tell by the Lighting outside that it was about 2:00 in the morning. And that I was in Harlem. Great. I groaned and felt the back of my head which held a bloody, baseball sized knot. I mumbled a few incredible curses and moved to the window. Barred. Shit. You know, at this time normal people would probably thinking of a way to get out, but I guess im not normal. I was thinking of one thing and one thing only, Spot. I was wondering if he was on his way right now coming to break me free with Jack in trail. Because, im a fighter, not a problem solver. I heard a slight rustle outside the big, steel door. Someone very large, and I imagin very strong, stepped through the door.
"Ahh, good your awake!", he said in a mock sing-song voice.
"Yeah, im awake and hungry. You got any food in that hollowed out head a yours?" I said venomously.
He just laughed and said, "Darlin', prisoners don't get food."
"Okay, but let me warn you, I get pretty cranky when I have an empty belly." I said patting my stomach.
He grunted annoyed. The most guys I had ever taken down before was nine. This would be easy. I stood up and sauntered over to him, rolling up my sleeves. By the size of him, he wasn't going to be able to move very fast.
I said, "Listen here hun, if you let me out of here with no complications, you won't get hurt. And trust me, when I say hurt, I mean hurt.", I ended dangerously.
He snickered and took something out of his pocket. It was something coiled into a tight ball. Rope?
When he unrolled it I saw exactly what it was. Uh Oh. He flicked his wrist letting the whip snap against the ground. If I had my knives, I would be fine, but this was different. Shit. He laughed wickedly and whistled a high pitched, shrill sound. I counted as eleven men stepped into the room. Eleven is a lot more than nine. I let out a loud, drawled out groan.
"Come on boys, you afraid a lil ol' me?" I said in a sarcastic southern accent.
By the time they even had time to answer, I had knocked three to the ground unconscious. Three down, nine to go. Perfect. But, one had a whip. Ughh. I did a round kick and a swift uppercut, knocking two more to the ground. Seven. Before I had anytime to even make a nasty remark, the whip came crashing down on my hip. I let out a loud cry and fell to the ground. But I didn't shed a tear. I haven't cried since I was fifteen years old, and that was because Spot had gotten shot and could of died if it wasn't for Jack and I. No matter how big or bad the injury, I never cried. Now I was trying to get back up, but he shot down the whip in three more fatal slaps. And I fell limp to the ground. My back, sides and hip were now bleeding and I had a busted lip. Joy. They shakeled my hands to the cold stone wall with rusty chains. And then, they did the unthinkable. They striped me of my clothes and did the thing that all women fear. They raped me.
