Chapter 8

Warning: Non-con

Harder To Breathe

"So sad to see your dear old Dad?" Robert 'Bob' Williams asked sarcastically, looking down at the pitiful creature standing before him.

Angie didn't respond. She hung heavily in her captors' arms, her tear-streaked face blank.

Bob slapped her. When she didn't react except to blink, he looked up at the men holding her.

"What's with her?" he demanded.

The taller blonde man holding her right arm grinned, "Had to shoot one of her boyfriends," he said.

"Headshot!" the shorter dark haired man on her left side said proudly.

Bob shrugged, "You dump the gun and change the plates?" he asked.

"We'll get right on it, boss," the dark haired man said.

"Do that," Bob said with a long-suffering sigh. He smiled cruelly, "And take your time; my daughter and I have a lot of catching up to do."

Bob yanked Angie up the stairs and tossed her into a dimly lit room. A metal framed bed waited in the middle of the room, the moonlight streaming weakly through the barred window competing with the bare bulb dangling overhead.

Angie didn't struggle as he tied her hands and feet to the bed. There was no point. He straddled her, his knees clamping tightly against her hips. Even when he pulled a knife and pressed it to her cheek, she didn't make a sound.

"I should cut you to shreds," Bob snarled, his knife teasing the soft skin of her throat, "Do you have any idea how much money I wasted looking for you? You know…" his voice lowered, "you're going to make it up. One way…" the knife sliced down the center of her shirt, just skimming her skin, "or another."

His knife continued its work, shredding the thin material viciously. The clothing finally gave up, falling in tatters to the floor. Most of it was stained with blood; razor thin cuts interweaving with slowly seeping tears of crimson on Angie's bare body.

Bob was breathing heavily, his hand shaking from the strength of his control. With slow, deliberate movements he sheathed his knife. Looking down at her trembling, red-stained body, Bob smiled.

He stripped off his clothes, his well muscled chest and lean torso flexing as he climbed on top of her.

"We saw you with your boyfriends," he whispered in her ear, "I must say, I was impressed. Four men?" he chuckled darkly, "They must have kept you in practice."

Angie turned her head away, but he grabbed her chin and forced her to stay still.

"Tell me," he growled, pushing himself into her abruptly.

Angie gasped and whimpered, tears shooting from her eyes.

"Tell me, Angel," Bob repeated, "about the white-haired one. The leader. Did the old man order you around in bed too? What did he taste like? Tell me!" Bob demanded, his body moving constantly over hers.

"Go to hell," Angie hissed, her eyes boring into the ceiling above her.

Bob froze, "What did you say to me?" he whispered dangerously. His hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing ever tighter. Her eyes had started to roll back when he finally released her.

Angie coughed and sucked in air desperately.

"Your boyfriends might have put up with your mouth, but I have other uses for it," Bob said, her hair wrapped tightly in his hand, "You know how this works; now tell me!"

"Cigars," Angie rasped, her eyes closing tightly, "He tasted like cigars."

"More," Bob demanded, resuming his movements.

"Lightning," she said.

Bob laughed, "How does that taste?"

"Power, fire, unpredictability, danger, luck… rain."

"Fine," Bob said, "And the big black guy? How about him? I'd have thought he'd have stretched you out more than this," Bob said, leering, "Did they make him go last?"

"Scratchy," Angie said, swallowing back the insults she wanted to scream, "musky. Sweet milk, almost sour. Motor oil, metal."

"Mmm," Bob moaned, panting heavily. Angie tried to stifle her scream as he came. He took a few moments to catch his breath, fondling her breast.

"What about the pretty boy? How'd the little rich kid get with that group? Slumming? Or maybe the old man likes boys too?"

Angie snarled and tried to buck him off; earning a punch to her temple that had her seeing black spots.

"Tell me," Bob hissed, squeezing her breast painfully.

"Peppermint," Angie breathed, her left eye closed partially as it started to swell, "champagne, juniper, ocean, cocoa butter…" she paused and closed her eyes, "sex."

Bob sneered, "Guess pretty boy's got it going on! What about the last one? The skinny little dweeb in the bomber jacket and baseball cap?"

Angie couldn't hold back a gulping sob of anguish, her body shuddering with the strength of her emotion.

Bob laughed loudly and stroked her cheek in false tenderness, "He's the dead one then? I can just see it," Bob said, gloating, "You liked him best, I bet. And that's what got him killed. Couldn't just be satisfied sharing his bed, could you?"

Angie keened, replaying in her mind Murdock's determined expression as he chased after the car, his dogged persistence to rescue her, and that terrible shot; his head flying back, his hat tumbling to the ground.

"Tell me," Bob crooned, "what he tasted like?" His hand rested on her throat, reminding her of the danger of refusing.

Angie swallowed her tears and turned her face towards the window, straining to see the stars.

"Freedom," she whispered, "Planes and clouds, wind, cotton candy, morning dew, honeysuckle."

-000-

"You sure he doesn't need to go to the hospital?" Murdock heard Face ask, concerned.

Murdock moaned and tried to sit up, his hands instinctively going to his head. Immediately, three sets of arms supported his back, helping him into an upright position.

"Ooh, my head!" Murdock groaned, squinting up at his teammates, "What did I crash this time?"

"No crash, Captain," Hannibal said, "You were shot."

Murdock touched the bandage on his temple gently, "Shot? I don't…" Murdock paused as images flew through his mind.

"Angie!" he cried, standing quickly and stumbling as dizziness hit. He fell back onto the bed, nausea clawing at his stomach. He fought past it and grabbed Hannibal's arm.

"We have to go after her! How long have I been out? We need to hurry!"

Hannibal looked down at him, the frown deeply etched on his face.

"Captain," he said softly in a voice Murdock recognized as bad news, "You've been out for over twelve hours."

"Twelve hours?" Murdock exclaimed, his chest tight, "Angie's been in their hands for… We've got to rescue her, now!"

Hannibal grabbed his arm as he started towards the door, "Murdock, stop! We'll go after her but not without a plan and the right equipment!"

"But, Colonel, they'll…" Murdock cut himself off, nausea making an abrupt reappearance as he thought of what they were doing to her.

"They've already done whatever they're going to do," Face said sadly, "It won't help her if we get killed."

"Yeah, Fool," B.A. said gently, "We can't mess this up."

Murdock covered his face with his hands.

-000-

Angie almost tripped for the tenth time. The heavy chains around her ankles and wrists dug into her skin and made it difficult to move.

She resisted the urge to tug her skirt down, the frilly black material so short that it was pointless. She knew he was watching her, enjoying the view as she polished the antique oak desk. Her top consisted of low cut spandex, barely covering her breasts. The poufy black lace sleeves added to the cheap French maid effect, as did the cuts and bruises.

He sighed in satisfaction, his belt still undone.

"Angel," he groaned, "we sure missed you around here."

Angie ignored him. She had to finish polishing the desk and pick up the things he had scattered when he'd cleared it off to make room for his fun.

He pulled her back against him, his hand slipping down her top to clutch her breast. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear.

"Too bad I don't have time for an encore, but I'll be back for you real soon."

Angie stared expressionlessly at the wall until he let her go. He waited impatiently as she picked up the last of the papers and then escorted her back up to her room, locking her to the bed.

She looked out the window. It was getting dark. They hadn't come. Tears started to roll down her face.

"Of course they wouldn't come," she whispered to herself, "They already lost one man because of me."

Her breathing hitched. Puppy kites. Silly songs. Indian war paint. Swordfights. Fireflies. Her heart clenched. Damn him. Damn them all! Just more stupid men, sticking their noses where they didn't belong. Why couldn't they just cut her loose? Why did they have to try and help?

"Why didn't you just let me starve?" Angie whispered angrily. Why did she have to fall for him?

She started singing.

-000-

Murdock noticed it. As they were we casing the house, the dusk hiding their movements, he saw a strange red glow emanating from the garbage can. He grabbed the plastic bag it was wrapped in and stuffed it in his jacket to look at in the light.

When he rendezvoused with the team, all of them piled into the van parked around the corner, he took out the bag.

"What's that?" Face asked, wrinkling his nose.

"I don't know," Murdock shrugged, "But it lit up a trash can." He untied the bag and dumped the contents on the floor.

The strange red light pulsed dimly, fading even as they watched. It was Murdock's strangled gasp that alerted the rest of the team to the import of the tangled mess of cloth.

"Oh, God," Murdock choked, "Angie's pajamas." He started to piece together the shredded garment, revealing the violence done to it. Some of it stuck together, dried blood acting as an adhesive.

"They need her alive," Hannibal reminded them, his voice tight. It couldn't be as bad as it seemed.

Murdock picked at the edge of a tattered sleeve, "If they did this much damage to her clothes…" he croaked.

Face placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "She'll be okay; we'll get her out of there."

"My fault," Murdock whispered, wrapping his arms around himself, "I should have stayed closer to her. I should have stopped them."

"You got shot trying to stop them, Fool! Nobody can do better than that!"

"Enough!" Hannibal ordered, "We've got work to do! Face, you're going in there. Find Angie and get her out. B.A. and I will provide the distraction. Murdock, you're stationed on the hill. Make sure no one leaves that house. Got it?"

The men nodded sharply.

"Move out!"

-000-

Face breathed a sigh of relief as he made it to the top of the stairs. According to what Angie had told them, her room should be down the hall. He'd managed to slip into the house unnoticed, a high stakes poker game distracting the men. Now he crept down the corridor, the decorative sconces throwing pools of light for him to avoid.

He reached the third door on the left and turned the handle slowly. Locked. Grimacing, Face knelt down and pulled out his picks, working by feel. After a few seconds of soundless struggle, the lock gave way with a soft click.

Face grinned and stood. He opened the door silently and slipped into the room, shutting the door behind him. The lone window barely illuminated the room enough for him to see the figure in the bed.

"Angie?" he whispered, moving towards her.

She turned her head towards him, her eyes glinting in the half-light.

"Face?" she gasped, "You came?"

"Love the outfit," he said in distaste, "Of course we came!" Face said, frowning as he looked at the heavy chains around her wrists and ankles.

"But, I thought…" Angie said, her voice trembling, "Murdock…"

Face froze as he heard movement outside her door. He started to pick the lock on her ankle restraints, eyeing the window speculatively.

"We've got to get out of here," he whispered, "Is there another way downstairs?"

Angie shook her head, flinching as the chains fell from her ankles with a muted rattle.

They both cried out as the lights flipped on.

"So," Bob said, a 9mm pointed at Face, "you going somewhere, Pretty Boy?"

Face grinned, his expression falling as two men stepped into the room behind the man holding the gun.

"Now, I know this looks bad…" Face said, backing towards the window.

Before he could try to escape, Bob gestured to the two men. They rushed forward, quickly subduing Face. They gripped his arms tightly as they dragged him to their boss.

"It's a shame, Pretty Boy, that you wasted all this effort," Bob said, grabbing Face's chin and turning his head side to side; looking him over. "You're not my type, but you're attractive enough. I'm sure the boys will enjoy having some fun with you before they kill you."

"No!" Angie cried, "Please, don't hurt him! I won't fight you; I'll stay here! I'll tell him to leave and never come back! He'll go! Please!"

Bob laughed cruelly, "Don't want to lose another boyfriend, Angel? Too bad," he gestured to the men, "Take him to the room next door and have some fun, but make it quick. There's two more that'll be showing up any second. Make sure he's dead when you're through."

The two men nodded, grinning.

"Come on, guys, can't we talk about this?" Face cajoled as they pulled him out of the room. His wide eyes met Angie's horrified gaze and he flashed a weak comforting smile.

Bob shut the door behind them and turned back to Angie. She was following the sound of Face's pleading as they took him into the next room, tears running down her cheeks. She flinched when the sound of his voice was cut off abruptly in a grunt of pain. The sound of fists hitting flesh followed for the next few seconds, pained exhalations accompanying them. Angie was tense as a bow string, staring at the wall dividing their rooms.

"You know what they'll do to him," Bob whispered, coming towards her.

Angie flinched at the sound of furniture scraping heavily across the floor.

Face screamed.

"No!" Angie cried loudly, pulling at her chains, "Leave him alone! Don't touch him!"

Bob slapped her, blooding her lip.

"Shut up!" he growled, "Worry about yourself, Angel."

Clearly angry, Bob grabbed her legs, shoving them up until she was bent in half. He unbuckled his belt, the zipper ripping down as he got into position.

Grunts of pain and muted cries came from the other room, but Angie forgot to listen as excruciating agony tore through her. She cried out hoarsely, the pain choking her. She felt like she was being ripped in two.

The torture seemed endless, existence shredded down to this fathomless anguish. Angie barely noticed when he pulled away. Then she snapped back into herself at the sound of the gunshot.

She looked at the wall, wondering why that sound filled her with hopelessness. With a gasp of recognition, she wailed; a long, drawn out whine of despair.

"Two down, two to go," Bob snarled as automatic weapons fire sounded from downstairs. He stormed from her room, the door slamming shut behind him.

Harder To Breathe
Maroon 5

How dare you say that my behavior is unacceptable
So condescending unnecessarily critical
I have the tendency of getting very physical
So watch your step cause if I do you'll need a miracle

You drain me dry and make me wonder why I'm even here
This Double Vision I was seeing is finally clear
You want to stay but you know very well I want you gone
Not fit to fricken' tread the ground that I'm walking on

When it gets cold outside and you got nobody to love
You'll understand what I mean when I say
There's no way we're gonna give up
And like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams
Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe
Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe

What you are doing is screwing things up inside my head
You should know better you never listened to a word I said
Clutching your pillow and writhing in a naked sweat
Hoping somebody someday will do you like I did

When it gets cold outside and you got nobody to love
You'll understand what I mean when I say
There's no way we're gonna give up
And like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams
Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe
Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe

Does it kill
Does it burn
Is it painful to learn
That it's me that has all the control

Does it thrill
Does it sting
When you feel what I bring
And you wish that you had me to hold

When it gets cold outside and you got nobody to love
You'll understand what I mean when I say
There's no way we're gonna give up
And like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams
Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe
Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe
is there anyone out there cuz its gettin harder and harder to breathe