You examined the remains of your cast on the floor of Trevor's trailer as Ron examined your bare arm. Ron moved your arm around slowly.
"Do you feel any pain when I do this?"
Shaking your head, you answered, "Nope."
He got up from where he was sitting next to you on the couch and entered the bathroom for a moment before reappearing with a wet towel. He sat down again and began wiping the sweat from your arm. He stood up again once he was done and gathered up his supplies.
"Well, Miss [y/n], it seems your arm is officially healed. Now, try not to let Trevor tackle you down and break it again."
You let out a laugh as you moved your wrist around for the first time in about ten weeks, "Thanks, Ron," you said with a smile. He smiled back before leaving you alone in the trailer.
Then, it was just you. You were used to being left alone at Trevor's place while he was out doing whatever he had to do. Most of the time, he would leave to go help Chef out with something at the kitchen. You learned to bring books and your laptop over with you so you weren't so bored. You rose to your feet and entered Trevor's bathroom, stripping down to take a shower. The smell of your bare arm was getting to you and you wanted to wash it.
Once you finished showering, you threw on one of Trevor's shirts and a pair of underwear and proceeded to his bedroom. Grabbing a book out of your bag, you sat down on his bed and read until he got back.
About an hour had past when your concentration was torn away from your book by the overwhelmingly loud sound of a bunch of motorcycles arriving at the trailer. You dog-eared the page you were on and quickly tip-toed toward one of the windows of the mobile home. The place was surrounded by a few motorcycles, a black van, and men clad in leather, all labeled with a logo: The Lost MC. A sick feeling brewed in the pit of your stomach. You moved away from the window, hoping they didn't see you.
"Okay, okay, okay…" You whispered to yourself, "You're gonna be alright."
You heard a rough male voice yell outside, "TREVOR!" You trembled and covered your mouth with your hands to silence yourself. Looking around the room, you frantically searched for your phone. You noticed it toward the head of the bed. You positioned yourself to slowly crawl to go get it when a gunshot rang out. You let out a small scream and covered your ears. You heard a bullet casing hit the floor of the living area.
I don't want to die, you thought to yourself, tears burning in your eyes. You hoped that Ron would help you, or Trevor, or anyone.
"TREVOR, WHERE ARE YOU?" The man's voice called out, "YOU CROSSED US FOR THE LAST TIME!"
Another shot hit the trailer. You saw a cloud of dust float through the air near where the bullet shot into the home. The sound of footsteps approached the door. You hugged your shaking knees to you from where you sat on the floor by the wall. There was a short moment of silence before the man kicked down the door. You jumped and put your head down, despite not really being religious, you decided to pray. You prayed that they'd just leave you alone. You prayed that someone, anyone, would come and help you. You prayed for your life.
With your eyes closed tight, you listened as the sound of heavy boots stomped toward you, stopping a few feet in front of you. You opened your eyes and slowly raised your head toward the man in front of you.
"P-Please don't kill me…" You whimpered.
The man knelt down in front of you and ran a hand through your hair. You shuddered under the touch of this stranger. You both locked eyes before he spoke, "Can't make no promises."
Before you know it, you were being lifted up and carried away, kicking and screaming. You looked toward Ron's trailer next door as the stranger lugged you toward the black van.
"RON!" you yelled, "Ron, Trevor, help me!" You saw one of the curtains at Ron's place being drawn open before quickly closing, as if whoever drew it didn't want to be seen.
You were shoved in the back of the van, your body slamming against the cold metal. You immediately attempted to get up and try to escape only to have one of them stop you, grabbing your shoulders to stop you.
"Eye for an eye, Philips," he said, before raising a fist and punching you in the eye, knocking you out cold.
When you woke up next, you were tied to a tree. Your eye swelled on your face and your head thumped. The men who captured you were gathered around, some talking to each other, others were drinking, and one was tending a fire pit. Looking around, you realized you were all in a forest.
That was when the panic set in.
You began to scream out for help again, writhing against the tree you were tied to in the hopes that it would loosen the ropes. But to no avail, you remained captured and now had their attention.
"Oh, ho, there she is," the same stranger who grabbed you before said, approaching you with a shit-eating grin. You assumed he was a leader, "You can scream all you want, no one is gonna hear you but us." You bit your lip and began crying again.
"Please, I didn't do anything wrong! Let me go!"
He caressed a knuckle over your arm, "You may have not done anything wrong but your little boyfriend however…" He turned toward his men, "That crazy bastard killed one of our own, another one of our brothers murdered, and we're just not gonna let the fucker get away with it, huh, boys?" They all responded in passionate agreement.
"Listen, I'm really sorry. I'm really really really sorry but please, I have nothing to do with it," you pleaded desperately.
"But that's where you're wrong, sweet cheeks. You have everything to do with it," he said, holding a finger to your lips to silence you, "He killed one of our own, and we're gonna kill one of his."
No.
You weren't sure whether you said it out loud or not because the next thing he said was, "I'm afraid so," with a nod. "It sucks kinda sucks though," he began, "Having to kill you. See, Trevor doesn't usually fuck around with pretty ladies so it's gonna be harder to kill you when I honestly could see myself banging you myself"
The statement made your face turn red and your blood boil. Without really thinking, you spit in his face, earning a low "Ohh…" from the small crowd. The man slowly wiped the spit from his eye with his hand and let out a laugh. He then lunged toward you with his forearm pressed against your neck, choking you.
"Listen, bitch," he threatened as you wheezed against him, "Next time a man compliments you, the words you are looking for are 'Thank you,' got it?"
You managed a small nod. More silent tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to breathe. He unpinned himself from you and wiped a tear away from your face with his calloused thumb. "Don't worry, baby. I'll make it quick for you."
He backed up and held his hand out to one of the others. The other placed a revolver in his hand. The leader raised his weapon toward you and cocked it. You desperately looked around at the other men, pleading for mercy with your eyes. They only watched with stern expressions on their faces.
"Say goodnight, sweetheart."
A shot rang out.
Suddenly, your voice returned to you in the form of a scream. The man who was holding the gun at your fell to the ground. His blood and chunks of his brain stained the leaves. Just like that, the man was dead.
Your wide eyes scanned everywhere as you began to hyperventilate. The motorcyclists entered a panicked frenzy, taking cover and reaching for their own weapons.
"Where did that come from?" one of them questioned out loud. He raised his head slightly to search for where the shot came from only to be shot in the head, his body collapsing on the dirt.
All you could do was watch as the men shot blindly into the thick of the forest. One by one, they were taken out, their dead bodies piling up around the area.
It wasn't very long until the forest fell silent. The men were all dead. Your chest heaved and your ears rang from the volume of the gunshots. You looked toward the forest, watching the bushes rustle and twigs crack as someone approached you.
"[Y/n]!" Trevor shouted as he ran out of the thicket toward you. He tossed his sniper rifle aside as he got closer, "Fucking Christ, [y/n]…"
You broke into sobs, "Tr-Trevor! Oh my god!"
"Hey, hey, hey, I'm right here," he withdrew a pocket knife, "Let me get you down." The man began cutting you down from the tree. Once you were free, you fell into his arms.
"T-T…"
He shushed you, tightening his embrace on you, "It's okay now. It's all over."
"I…"
You broke away enough to glance down at all of the dead bikers. You shivered as you focused on the man who almost killed you. You suddenly felt weak and buried your face into Trevor's chest. You held onto him for dear life.
"C'mon, let me take you home…"