A/N: Thanks for the reviews! They really do keep me motivated. A new chapter should hopefully be up tomorrow as well (class is overrated anyway)! And these last couple chapters seemed much longer when i was writing them; but looking at them now, they look awfully short. I'll try and make the next ones longer.

11

After Edward left I went back to sleep. I didn't have any nightmares, or any dreams for that matter. It was exactly what I needed—I slept like a rock; it was amazing. Well, amazing until I was rudely awakened by one of the guys. At first I was so confused about what was going on. The blankets had been ripped off the bed and there was a man crawling toward me from the foot of the bed. After only a couple seconds though I remembered where I was and kicked him square in the face. As he fell to the side I quickly jumped out of bed and raced over to stand by the recliner. I had kicked him under his chin and his I was pretty sure he bit his lip—it was bleeding pretty badly. He slid off the other side of the bed and stood up.

"You fucking bitch!" He spit a glob of blood onto the floor. "We can do this one of two ways: one, I kick your ass and then have my way with you, or two, you be a good little girl and come over here for daddy." When he tried to smile I saw the blood covering his teeth.

"Wow, what lovely options, however will I choose?" I said with oozing sarcasm.

He stared at me with perhaps the most hateful look I have ever received. I tried to recall his name, but just came up with a blank. I took the moment his little stare down gave me to look him over. He had a square face and was maybe 5'10. He was wearing black jeans and a navy blue shirt that said "Marines" on it. He had a buzz cut and no facial hair. At first I was worried that he was some kind of army guy that had apparently lost all sense of civic duty, but after seeing his slight beer gut and lack of any kind of muscle structure, I figured he hadn't seen even a day of service.

"Like what you see?" he said, noticing my inspection of him.

"Not particularly. Honestly, that buzz cut makes your head look fat." That probably wasn't the smartest thing to say, in retrospect, but I've always found that it's easier to insult people than to compliment them. Maybe that's just me though.

"Fuck you."

"Ooo, great comeback. Your other marine drop-outs teach you that one? Now, remind me, you must not have left a good impression last time, what's your name?"

"I'll have you know that the marines would be lucky to see the likes of me! I just choose other paths in life. In fact, I'm the fucking head of security for a very prominent computer company. And it's Ben, bitch; I'll make sure you remember it this time." He started to move around the bed and towards me.

"HA! Security?! You're nothing more than a rent-a-cop! I should've known you weren't anything more—letting a little girl like me getting you to bleed. What's the matter? Your retarded ass job won't get you any ladies? You have to kidnap women to get laid?"

"Shut the fuck up!" He was getting angrier, but he stopped walking to listen to me talk.

"Oh no—you didn't even kidnap me! You had to join a group that kidnaps women for you and locks them in a room! You're so pathetic you can't even rape women on your own!"

"I said SHUT UP!" He yelled as he lunged towards me.

I'm not sure what he was planning to do first; his arms were stretched out like he

was either going to strangle or grab me. Either way, I ducked and dove for the ground, barreling into his legs. He went down harder than I would have imagined—his hands protected his face, but he still hit head first. I rolled away from his feet and scrambled to stand up. I was up and by the foot of the bed when he grabbed my left leg. I turned around and tried to punch him in the face, but he grabbed my wrist. He yanked me down and I collapsed onto my knees—he dropped his grip on my leg. I brought my other hand, curled into a fist, down on his head, yet didn't let go of his hold even as his head jerked the other way. In another desperate attempt to get my hand free I twisted it down and against his thumb—what my old taekwondo instructor used to tell us to do—and it finally broke free. At this point we were both about three feet from the end of the bed and maybe a foot away from the desk. I had no idea what to do next and was still contemplating the options when he lurched up and pinned me to the floor.

"Keep struggling whore, I like it!" As he spoke drops of blood fell onto my face; I turned so it wouldn't get in my mouth or eyes and several drops landed on my cheeks. I was completely disgusted and helpless in this position. He grabbed both my wrists again and held them above my head. He was kneeling with his legs on the outside of mine and his face just inches from my own. As much as I didn't want to come in contact with his bloodied face, I knew I had to do something. So, I slammed my forehead into his nose with as much possible force as I could muster—the awkward position putting quite the strain on my neck and shoulders. He screamed in pain and let go of my arms to grab cover his face. I took the opportunity to shove him off of me and stand up.

"You broke my nose! You broke my fucking nose!!" Ben screamed.

I wasn't sure what to do next. I thought about kicking him while he was down, but he seemed like he was in enough pain already. I wanted him to be hurt enough to want to leave and get help but not in so much pain that he got irrational and attacked me like a madman. I settled for going to stand behind the recliner.

"You are going to regret this, you stupid bitch, you just wait." He said as he stood up, hands still clutching his nose and blood covering the front of his shirt. "You just fucking wait!" He took the key out of his pocket and left the room. I wasn't scared of his retaliation—he wasn't really an intimidating person—his words, however, did leave me feeling a little worried. What if they started coming in two at a time? What if they started to bring in weapons? I can only defend myself so well against these men and if they started bringing more muscle or something else… It was not a pretty thought. I went into the bathroom and washed off my face (again with that stupid scented soap; what I wouldn't give for a regular face scrub) and fixed my hair into a tighter messy bun. I didn't really spend much time in there; I hated to see myself all bruised up like that.

Once I was in the room I went and dug out the watch Edward had given me this morning which I hid in one of the desk drawers. Thursday, December 5th, 1:00pm . . . was that all? I couldn't believe I had at least twelve more hours until I could see Edward again. That thought was entirely too depressing. That little voice inside my head chirped up again: should we really be investing so much in Edward? Are we sure he is completely trust-worthy? I hated this stupid voice. Of course I could trust him—the sincerity with which he spoke when he talked about those girls he couldn't save…no, there was no way he could be anything but innocent. Unfortunately, I didn't have much time to continue my thoughts on Edward—James had just walked into the room.