Wade and I stood next to each other as unknown forces broke into Trevor's trailer. The bedroom door was still shaking, and it would only be a matter of time before they kicked it in. I looked to my right. I could try to get through the small window, but if I got stuck, I wouldn't know what to do. I crept towards the window. The crashing and yelling continued in the next room. I slowly opened the window. It is too small for me to fit. I turned around and faced the bed. Even if I hid under there or anywhere else in this room, they would be quick to find me. I looked at Wade. He looked scared and unsure.

"Wade. What should we do?" I spoke quietly. Wade looked at me and shrugged. Come on man. My eyes raced around the room for an answer. They stopped at a TV on top of an end table. I looked at the small window. If the whole window is broken, it would leave more room for us to get through.

"Wade, throw the tv into the window."

"What?" He turned towards me confused. While he was looking at me, every now and then he would glance at the door that continue to shake.

"I need you to throw the tv through the window. It'll give us more room to get out." Wade nodded but seemed unsure.

"Okay. Okay." He seemed to be talking to himself, almost reassuring himself as he walked to the end table. He quickly picked up the tv, pulled it back and then tossed it straight into the window. With all of the commotion in the next room, I'm sure they couldn't have heard the window breaking. The missing window, glass and part of the frame, made for enough room for both of us to hop out. I approached the window. The shaking turned into banging. I could feel my breath and body tremble. The parts of the frame that were left had small shards of glass sticking out. This is going to hurt, but I need to get out of here quickly. I started to go through the hole. The bright sun blinded me, but I quickly adjusted. I looked to my left, I saw a large number of motorcycles sitting outside of the fence of Trevor's trailer. I didn't see another trailer that way, and in front of me was the gas station. Where had Ron's voice come from? I quickly looked to my right, I saw the edge of another trailer. Maybe there? I looked down. I could feel shards of glass going into my hand. My arms were struggling to hold me up. There was some distance between the ground and where I was coming out of the window. My breathing was somewhat under control, but thinking about hitting the ground from this height or at all, made it uneven. I pulled myself out some more, but there was nowhere to grab to completely pull myself out.. Unexpectedly I felt someone grab my feet. I panicked, thinking I was going to get pulled into the room, but instead, I was pushed more out and I fell out the window. I fell onto my back, head towards the road as I landed. Pain shot up my spine from my tailbone. Don't think about it. I struggled to turn myself over and get back up. The pain is getting worst. I heard someone fall beside me. I looked to my right. Wade was crouched next me. He grabbed my arm and started to drag me on my feet as I attempted to stand up. I kept tripping on the rocks and over my feet as we headed to the other trailer. As it came more into view, I saw Ron, standing on his porch talking on the phone. He quickly said something and then hung up.

"Wade! Lily! Hurry up!" He whispered loudly. I'm trying. We got to his fence, Wade was quick to boost me up and put me over. The pain became mind numbing. I was unable to catch myself as I went over the fence and fell onto the ground. I felt the sun's rays on me as I tried to stand. I felt Wade pull on my arm again as we ran into Ron's trailer. I fell in, and sat up against the wall as Ron closed the door and Wade watched from the window. This was all too crazy. There was still pain in my back, my breathing was heavy from the short run and stressful environment, and my anxiety was through the roof. I was on auto-pilot for most of it, I couldn't stop to think too much about things, so I had let my body move on its own. I looked in Ron and Wade's direction. They were standing in front of a window, looking towards Trevor's trailer that was being probably being destroyed. My breathing started to slow, a wave of relief came over me. My attention turned towards an empty wall. I closed my eyes. The relief I felt wasn't that of real safety. These two were also my kidnappers, and all they did was move me from one location to another, due to the risk of losing their prisoner. Overall it's better to be stuck with the kidnapper that you know, than another who you don't. I can't even imagine what these guys would have done to me. Trevor's done nothing to hurt me, all he does is boss me around and scare the crap out of me. Ron just gets on my freaking nerves and Wade is the most harmless yet still dangerous of the bunch. Maybe they are the same as Trevor, maybe their worst, but I wasn't taking the chance to find out.

I relaxed against Ron's trailer wall. I could still hear the noises from Trevor's trailer. They are doing a number on that trailer. Will there be a trailer left if they keep doing what they're doing? I could feel the adrenaline leave my body, I started to relax a bit more. My eyes felt heavy. I could feel my shoulders start to slouch. I could still hear Ron's and Wade's voices, but I couldn't make out any of the words that they were saying.

Unexpectedly I was suddenly shaken awake. My eyes shot open to see that it was Ron.

"Please don't sleep on the floor. I'll get yelled at if you do that." Ron's voice sounded exasperated and tired. It almost sounded like he was blaming me for something.

"Sounds like a personal problem." I retorted. I was tired and I don't even think I could move at this point. I looked at Wade who continued to look out the window. I returned my attention to Ron who looked more irritated than usual. I sighed loudly,

"Fine, where can I go?" I started to stand up. My legs felt weak.

"You can sleep on the couch." Ron replied. He sounded so disgusted. Whatever, I'm tired.

I looked at his couch. It had a red and yellow plaid pattern on it. It was covered in holes and patches. There were tears all over the edges, a spring hanging out on the bottom left, and it was ridden with stains that I didn't want to try and identify. I would consider this a couch that has seen some shit. I probably would be better off sleeping on the floor rather than sleeping on this thing. I could see some of the displacement of some of the stuffing in a lot of the areas on the seat and back. Yeah, I wasn't sleeping on this couch. I turned to Ron,

"Can I-"

"No. Sleep on the couch." He interrupted me. Rude. I turned back to the couch. It looked like it was begging me for mercy. Please don't sit on me. I'm broken. Sorry Mr. Couch. I sat down on it slowly. I could feel the uncomfortable lumps, the sound of some springs being pressed down in the seat and where some of the stuffing was completely lost. I really don't want to sleep on this thing! Just sitting on this thing makes me uncomfortable. I attempted to move my legs to lay down, but as I did, I felt the constant shift of fluff, and the uncomfortable lumps. I quickly sat straight up. I'll just lean back. I pressed my back against the couch. It felt a bit more comfortable than the seat, but it wasn't by much. I'll just have to sleep like this. I could feel myself drifting off. I felt relaxed, the tension in my shoulders leaving, and my eyes unable to open. It didn't matter how uncomfortable the couch was or how terrifying the situation was. What mattered was, I could now sleep.

I hope they're gone by the time I wake up.

"Wake up!" I jumped awake to the sound of Ron yelling at me. My eyes shot open, and in front of me was Ron with his arms crossed. He looked angry, and I wasn't sure at what.

"I'm going to check out T's trailer. Hopefully the Lost aren't there." He moved away from me, turning towards his front door.

"Who are the Lost?" I asked. That's an interesting name.

"They're a gang of bikers, real bad apples there." Wade replied. I blinked. Biker gangs? What had Trevor done to make them mad? Steal stuff? Is that who the chairs belonged to? I stood up quickly. This is my chance to see the surrounding area of the trailers.

"I'll come with you." Ron looked at me nervously. As he was still on crutches, he probably wouldn't be able to stop me if I ran. I looked and gestured towards Wade.

"Wade can come with us." I just need to see the outside. Ron looking unsure turned his attention to Wade.

"Wade. Grab her arm. We'll take her with us." Finally! I get to look outside! Wade took hold of my arm. The amount of pressure he was putting on my arm wasn't too much, but I was sure that if I tried to run, he could easily break it. Ron, moving slowly on his crutches, walked out his trailer first. Wade and I slowly followed behind. With Ron leading the way, I looked around the bright desert. The sun blinded me as I walked out. As I adjusted to the outside, my surroundings came into view. There was a fence around Ron's house spare one area that was used to get in and out. The fence was a mix match of chain and wood, with the neighbors on the left having wooden fences and the fence bordering Trevor's trailer having chain. Looking at Trevor's trailer from the outside was strange. It wasn't anything special. There was a ton of trash around, wooden porch, and cacti. As we approached from the front, about to enter the small fence enclosure onto Trevor's property, I focused more on the general area. To my far right was a four way, but if you continued straight, it went up hill. To my left were more trailers and mobile homes. They looked like cookie cutouts with all of the trash, debris and cacti in their yards. As we approached the front door, I noticed that there would be no need to open it for Ron. It had been forced open, and the door was only hanging of the bottom hinge against the wall of the trailer. We walked into the trailer slowly. The trailer was completely destroyed. Broken dishes, trash everywhere, the table was tipped over and missing a leg, and the chairs were broken. The whole place was a disaster but the trailer was still standing and didn't have any more holes than it already did when I got here. Wade let go of my arm as we walked further into the trailer. I was practically trapped behind the counter with the TV, as Wade and Ron stood in the other part of the room. Ron suddenly walked out quickly and I heard him speak,

"Come quick boss! They were here to you! Here… for you!"

"Who was here?" I could hear Trevor's boom voice. I was still facing the door when Ron tried to quickly walk in with his crutches. I watched Wade backup towards the bedroom so that he was out of Trevor's way. As Trevor was walking in, I started moving towards the bathroom. It was almost we were giving him room to view his destroyed apartment.

"Them bikers. After you…. You know…" Ron sounded nervous as he hinted towards something I didn't know. He kept switching his attention from me to Trevor. Trevor walked towards his dining room.

"And they damaged my stuff, huh? They smash up my home. Damage my soul. Look at this." He reached down and picked up a plastic statue that he had. I always had kept it on the counter in the farthest corner, because it kind of creeped me out.

"This meant more to me than Johnny K. meant to anyone. And they smashed it. Those pathetic, midlife crisis, hog riding, shaven-headed, fruity leather chap-wearing fucking assholes!" Who was Johnny K? From the way Ron made it sound, it was definitely Trevor's fault. The way Trevor had been talking about his home and items seemed exasperated. He gave off this feeling, from his voice and the way he was acting, that he didn't care about any of this stuff. Trevor placed the statue onto the counter. It's only in two pieces, some super glue can put it back together. At this point I was standing next to Ron, watching this scene play out. Trevor didn't look like he was angry at them, in fact he was treating it as a minor inconvenience.

"They're assholes, Trevor. They are, they're chap-wearing assholes." Gosh. Ron is such a sheep. I felt someone's gaze on me. Trevor had suddenly fell silent, and I could just feel that it was him staring me. Was he going to tell me to clean it up? I crossed my arms across my chest. I felt vulnerable and scared. What if he blamed me or hit me because of what they did? I heard someone move closer, and I braced myself for an impact.

"Ron. Wade." His voice sounded deep, as if some anger was stirring inside him, The air in the room sudden felt still. It was as if time had stopped and everything was waiting for Trevor to continue.

"Why...Why is there blood... on Lily's shirt?" I froze completely. The sound of his voice was menacing. I could tell very quickly, either he was trying to work himself up, or the shock of seeing blood on my shirt was. I could hear Wade try to stammer out an answer, and that Ron took no chance to reply. I felt two large, rough hands grab my wrists, and pull them away from me. I took a chance to look in Trevors direction. He was inspecting my hands. Dry blood had crusted my palms, and fresh blood had been smeared all over my hands and wrists. I had forgotten that when climbing out the window, blades of glass had stabbed my hand. It's also possible that I might still have some embedded in my hand. I was curious about his facial expression. Was he laughing at me? I decided to take the chance to look. I mean the worst would be that he would laugh, or he could look at it nonchalantly. Instead the face that I saw was one of pure rage. He looked like he was in a trance. He had a blank face of boiling anger, he was trembling. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he was gritting his teeth in a hard frown.

"Where else are you hurt?" The sound of his voice made me jump out of my thoughts. I tried to talk, but I was too scared. He looked like he could go off at any time. My mouth was left open, and only sounds, that should have been words, came out.

"She...She fell out a window. So… her back might be hurt too." Wade was the one to speak for me. He sounded nervous and cautious about what he was saying. But as he had finished saying it, I was spun around and pushed up against the trailer wall. My face just a few centimeters from it. I could feel Trevor holding both my wrists with one hand against my back, and other lifting up the back of my shirt. The movement suddenly stopped. I could feel his knuckles digging into my back. I had forgotten about the pain, but with Trevor moving my shirt, it came back. I felt the sting and throbbing pain from the fall. It was if I had been stabbed. Unexpectedly, I felt his hand move lower. I started to panic, where was that hand going? I felt it around the area that was injured, and I felt a strong tug on my capris. They didn't get tugged off, or even pulled down far. Just enough for Trevor to, I guess, access my injuries. I was shaking. What if he goes further? What if he tells Ron and Wade to leave and does something to me? I couldn't over power him. He clearly had the upper hand.

I felt the hand squeeze and release my wrists. I heard him move away as I pulled my shirt down and my capris back their original place. I turned around, my arms were crossed over my chest, my hands gripping just below my shoulders. I was looking at Trevor's boots.

"Wade. Let's go. We have work to do." I could hear him talk through his teeth. He clearly was trying not to yell.

"Oh and Ron. Please make sure you patch her up. I don't want my maid working with injured hands, or an injured back." That last part, I could tell he was trying not to yell. Yet, he was clearly very, very angry. As Trevor left, Ron and I faced each other. Ron had this panicked look on his face, and I'm sure mine was of discomfort.

"Well," Ron started to speak. He had been ordered to help me, which I'm sure he was going to dislike immensely. "Sit down on the couch, we'll get the glass out of your hands first."

Please just let this day end.

Ron grabbed the first aid kit that had been in one of the cabinets. He had placed his crutches down to grab it, but he didn't pick them up when he got the first aid kit, so he just simply limped over to me. He sat down next to me and opened up the kit. There were all kinds of things in it. It had tons of gauze, antibiotic, pain pills, bandaids and more. I shouldn't be too surprised too. Ron and Trevor seemed like danger magnets. Ron pulled out a pair of tweezers and a small cup. He turned towards me more, and took my left hand. He looked quickly for any pieces of glass left over. He found one small piece close to my thumb. As he pulled it out, I flinched back. It was a sharp prick that with the rest of the wound, was more painful that it should have been. Ron then moved over to my right hand. For some reason there was a lot more glass in that one. Six pieces came out of my hand. They ranged in sizes and some weren't even embedded in the skin. After putting the glass in the cup, Ron quickly stood up, and walked towards the bathroom. I heard him pick something up and then limp back to me. In his hand was a bucket. Antiseptic time. I had to brace myself for this one. I was in a lot of pain and the antibiotic was just going worsen it. Over all, it would be for the better, but the initial pain is going to feel awful. Ron led my hands to be over the bucket. He opened a bottle of, what was not hydrogen peroxide but rather, alcohol.

"Whoa whoa whoa." I said panicked. "You got any other antiseptic?" Ron looked at me perplexed.

"No. Now don't move your hands."

"I'd rather get an infection." Ron looked at me with an irritated look.

"Okay, well we can't do that. Trevor will get mad at me. He'll blame me for not being able to clean your hands, and you fighting me." Ron had a point there, but… that didn't sound like it was really my problem.

"Well, what else you got in there?"

"This is the only antiseptic I got. So, deal with it."

"Really? Out of that huge kit, you got nothing?"

"Just hold still." Ron quickly poured the alcohol onto my hands. It burned like crazy. I tried not to move too much, but the pain was overwhelming. I could feel tears form in the corner of my eyes. AHHHHHHH. I was biting my lip, trying not complain about the pain, but it was getting harder as Ron poured more on.

"You don't need that much!" My words came out strained.

"Yes I do! Your hands could get really infected."

"It's not even that bad, you're probably doing this to get back at me." Ron looked a bit taken back by my accusation.

"No I'm not, I'm trying to help." Ron poured more alcohol onto my hands. He had a firm grip on my fingers with just the one hand.

"Lies." It came out pained.

"Says the one who started that whole mess." Bastard throwing me under the bus. Again.

"No it wasn't. That was all you!" We narrowed our eyes at each other, glaring, furrowing our brows. As we were glaring at each other, Ron made the move to pour more alcohol onto my hands. Mother-!

"You're the one who broke the door and blamed it on me!"

"You're the one who kept closing the door!"

"I was working behind it!" Ron poured more alcohol onto my hands.

"Quit that! That hurts!" I tried to stop him, but he had a firm grip. My hands felt numb and tingly. I started to struggle more.

"Let go."

"Quit doing that. You're going to make me spill the antiseptic." He quickly let go of my hands so as to not make a mess, but the damage had been done. My hands hurt so bad and upon pulling back, my right hand ran right into the alcohol. It fell onto the trailer floor, pouring out in large amounts.

"Look what you've done!" Ron yelled at me.

"Well hurry and pick it up!" I yelled back.

"I can't reach it!"

"I can't feel my hands!" Our bickering when back and forth. All the while, the rest of the alcohol emptied unto the floor. Then we started yelling about that.

"You should have just picked it up! You had time!" I yelled at him. My hands still stung, the pain made it hard to clench my fists.

"You could've picked it up! You can move better than I can!"

"I have no feeling in my hands!" My hands started to throb. While the overall pain was fading away, there was discomfort taking its place.

"Just hurry up and pick it up." Ron sounded almost desperate and tired. Fine. I moved off the couch carefully and bent down towards the bottle. I couldn't exactly close my hands around it, so I pressed both palms against it, holding it at a weird angle. I carried it back to Ron, and offered it back.

"Here. Take it."

"Well, it's empty. Just throw it away." I am going to kill him. Irritated, I tossed it into his lap. Apparently there was still some left, as it sprayed droplets on the couch and all over him.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" He attempted to catch the bottle, but in the end it fell back on the ground next to him. He looked back at me angry.

"Our trash can is broken."

"That does not mean you throw it at me!"

"Our trash can is broken." Ron groaned in frustration. I kept looking at him. He looked at the bottle, and then back at me. He noticed my staring.

"What?" I looked around, turned back to him and whispered,

"Our trash can is broken."

"You know what-?!"

"What?" Ron was suddenly cut off by the deep voice of Trevor. I sat straight up and turned towards the voice. I looked him over. He was covered in blood and smelled of smoke. His jeans looked more torn than before and his shirt was covered in dark stains. He was currently leaning on the doorway, one arm resting on his side, and the other above him.

"What were you going to say Ron?" With the tone of voice Trevor had, he clearly was not in the mood this kind of stuff.

"Ummm… You know what, we need to work on your back but we are out of antiseptic." Trevor used his arm to push himself upright and walk into the room. He raised an eyebrow at Ron.

"How are we out again? I thought I told you to restock and- why is the floor wet?" Trevor stopped walking. He looked down at the large puddle of alcohol.

"There was an accident T."

"Why did you pick it up?" Ron froze up at the question. "Lily certainly can't pick it up. She's injured." Ron looked like he was in a cold sweat.

"Well my leg-" Ron was cut off by Trevor again.

"Do you want me to fucking break it?" Ron tensed up.

"N-n-no T. I don't want you to break my leg."

"Then don't waste my fucking shit." Trevor turned towards me. He looked at my hands and then questioned me,

"Is your back already done?" His voice took a softer tone. He was still terrifying though. I shook my head.

"Well can't do it, if we don't have any alcohol. Wade! Wade!" A nervous came from outside,

"Yes Trevor?"

"Take Ron here and go to the store. I need more alcohol for my wounds and Lily's."

"Okay T."

"And HURRY THE FUCK UP!" He made an intimidating move towards Ron who was moving in Wade's direction. They both practically ran out of the trailer. Trevor looked in my direction again.

"He didn't even finish up with your hands? Fucking useless." I winced at his words. They weren't meant for me, but they still seemed like it. Trevor sat down next to me and grabbed a wad of gauze out the kit. He unwrapped a piece of it and started wrapping my hands up. I felt like I was going to turn into a mummy with all of the gauze he was using on my hands. It felt tight, like it was cutting off circulation.

"Alright turn around." A stroke of fear ran through me. "I need to see your back again." I began to tremble again. I didn't want him to touch me again, but it felt like in this situation, I wasn't going to have any choice.

I turned around slowly. My legs and back hurt, but I'd rather they hurt than Trevor touch my back. I started to slowly my shirt. The main problem was that, I didn't know how big the injury on my back actually was. With that being said, I didn't know how high my shirt needed to go. Hopefully not too high. I stopped midway on my back. This feels like a safe place to stop. I felt a hand grab the back of my shirt and lift it higher. It was past the bottom of my bra, but just about ¾ up my back. I felt his uncomfortable gaze on my back. I suddenly felt a gentle but still painful touch of his fingertips on me. I winced in pain as his fingertips glided across my back, all over the injury.

"No one's going to hurt you like this again." Time froze. He said it in a gentle voice. One that could be almost described as caring.

I could feel him gently press his whole hand on my back. I jumped a little at the pain. I heard him shuffle closer and I suddenly felt a very much unwelcomed pressure on my shoulder.

"I'll keep you safe. I promise." I felt the color drain from my face. It's only been 2 weeks and he's already treating me like his possession. And that was terrifying. I gripped the seat of the couch.

He suddenly sat up, kept his hand on my shirt, and moved away. I had been facing and focusing on the wall, but I turned my attention to the door. Wade and Ron suddenly walked in.

"Here you go to T. I got you four bottles." Ron had an awkward smile on his face.

"Took you long enough. If you would've taken any longer, I'd have ripped your arms off. Now give me the alcohol." Trevor began to work on my back. There was a lot of pain with the alcohol touching whatever the wound was on my back. I just kept gripping the couch tighter and tighter. By the end of it, I was looking more like a mummy. He hadn't done too bad of a job, but it certainly wasn't anything to be desired. It felt tight and a bit uncomfortable. The words and how he said them kept repeating themselves in my mind. I put my shirt down and turned towards the other three. Ron was working on Trevor's right arm, but Trevor was also working on his left, while Wade was trying to focus on his legs. Wade looked a little beat up himself, but nothing compared to Trevor. He had gotten 'scratched' by some bullets that were shot at him. It seemed like a normal occurance for them.

I hope I can get out of here soon.