Warning: This chapter contains violence and coarse language.

Ch.14

She awoke to hands around her ankles, pulling her body until it was flush against the floor, until the chains binding her hands to the rusted pipe was pulled taught. And then she felt as a body rested itself between her legs, the only barrier between her and the man being the man's own clothing, causing her to immediately start crying. She had become familiar with this sensation, and as much as the men's faces had started to blend together the night before, she remembered his face.

She had only been here a few days. They had kept her blindfolded and hadn't given her any food or water. She hadn't understood why they had taken her, but the answers to all of her questions had been answered the previous night when the man with the blond hair walked in the room, closing the door behind him.

At first she had thought that he was going to let her go. He had taken off the blindfold and had unchained her hands from the wall. But then he had reached for her and had forced her shirt off of her. And she had fought back, had fought back with all of the strength she had, but she was weak, and she realized that that was why they hadn't given her anything to eat or drink; they had been waiting for her body to weaken so that she couldn't fight back. Adrenaline had been coursing through her body, though, and she fought even when the man had put the chains back on her, even when he had taken all of her clothes off. She hadn't quit fighting until she physically couldn't fight any longer, and that's when she had just let it happen. Man after man had used her, used her body for their pleasure. They had left her bloody, bruised, and beaten, lying naked with her hands chained to that rusted pipe.

This man, the man resting between her legs, the pressure of his arousal pressing against her, he had been the second. His hands had raked across her body, touching and grasping at every inch of skin he possibly could, groping her breasts as he had continued his assault on her as she had begged for his mercy, had begged for him to stop. And now, his eyes were boring into her, a wicked smile playing on his lips, a soft chuckle escaping his throat as his eyes began to roam her naked body.

Suddenly, he lowered his head, his nose lightly running from her chin to just behind her ear, inhaling her scent deeply, causing her to shudder, the tears rolling down the sides of her face dampening her hair. One of his hands came up to gently cup her breast, causing her entire body shake in fear. She knew where this was leading, and she desperately wished that she could be anywhere else with anyone else.

"Ya' know, I may not have been the first to have you," he said quietly, his voice gruff and hard. "But you're still mine," he said, pulling away from her a little so that he could look at her face.

Beth watched as he removed his hand from her breast, tucking it into his pocket and pulling out a small pocketknife. He flipped the blade up, shifting it around slightly so that the dim light of the room reflected off of the metal surface.

"That bitch Connor got you first," he said, bringing the knife to the nape of her neck. "Fucker's good at poker, won the game, got the girl…got you," he said roughly, beginning to drag the knife down the valley between her breasts, his eyes following every movement of the blade, being careful not to cut the flawless skin under it.

"But I'm alright with that. He got you weak, made it to where you gave me just right amount of fight, but weren't strong enough to fight back with all of your strength…made it easier for me to subdue you. And let me just say, I had a fuckin' good time last night…you're so fuckin' tight.

"Let me guess…you're a virgin, aren't you?" he asked, momentarily stopping the movement of the blade, pausing a moment to think, a smirk forming on his lips. "I should rephrase that: you were a virgin, weren't you?"

The man continued dragging the knife against her skin, bringing the blade lower and lower on her body. He brought it past her bellybutton and to her waist before stopping again.

"I've been with a lot of women, but none of them have been like you. You were…you reacted exactly the way I like. Most girls don't have enough fight left in them, but you…you just kept goin', kept fightin'…it makes it more fun, more…exhilarating. And I never used to be into blondes, I always go for brunettes…they turn me on…but you…I think that you're the exception to that," he said slowly.

"But you see, there's a problem. You were with all of my men last night; they all had their way with you. That's a problem. I need them to know who you belong to; I need you to know who's you are. You're not their's…you're mine," he said sternly. "And I need you to know that," he said, bringing the knife to her right side, against her ribcage. "So I'm going to give you something that will make you remember that, something that will never go away; just think of it as a constant reminder."

And Beth screamed in pain as she felt the blade cutting into her skin, as she felt the warmth of her own blood running down her side.

Beth felt Maggie's eyes on her, traveling across the expanse of her side. She knew what she saw; she knew why Maggie's body had become rigid, frozen. And Beth couldn't help the gasp that escaped her throat as Maggie brought her hand to the marred skin. She couldn't help the way she shivered or the way her skin broke out in goose bumps as Maggie's fingers began to trace the scar on her side.

It took everything in her to bring her eyes to look at Maggie. She didn't know why she did it, maybe it was because she wanted to see Maggie's reaction to the scar, or maybe it was because she needed to see Maggie's reaction. Whatever the reason was, she knew that she would never forget the way Maggie looked at her, like she was a wounded animal trapped in a corner, like she was a stranger.

Without warning, Maggie grabbed Beth's shirt. "Let's get this back on you, okay?" she asked shakily, trying her best to hide the way her voice was wavering, but failing.

Beth let Maggie put the oversized shirt on her. She didn't even assist her. She just sat there, letting Maggie maneuver her arms into the shirt as if she were a small child. Just as Maggie had been frozen when she had seen the scar, Beth was now frozen.

Beth was surprised when Maggie didn't leave her, instead sitting down beside her, mimicking the way Beth was sitting: their knees pulled to their chests, their arms wrapped tightly around their legs, their chins resting on their knees. And their eyes were focused on the pile of ashes that had been the fire. And Beth found their companionable silence oddly comforting, and before she knew it, she was speaking.

"It stands for 'Anthony,'" she said quietly.

"What?" Maggie asked confusedly, turning her head slightly to look at Beth.

"The scar…the A…it stands for Anthony."

Beth waited for Maggie to say something, but she didn't, she just kept staring at Beth.

"I know that you saw it, Maggie. "

"We can just forget about it, Beth…you don't have to talk about it…"

"I know that I don't have to, but I know that you're gonna keep thinking about it…"

Maggie nodded her head a little and Beth finally turned her had to look at Maggie.

"His name was Anthony," she repeated. "H-he was the second one to…" Beth trailed off, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Beth…you don't have to talk ab-"

"He was the second one to rape me," Beth said, cutting Maggie off. "You wanna know how they decided who would get me first?" she asked, not waiting for Maggie to answer before she continued. "They played poker, Maggie…that's all that I was worth to them," she said, laughing sadly. "I was the winner's prize. A game of poker decided it for them…"

Maggie looked down sadly, and Beth saw the way that her fingers began to dig into the soft dirt, trying her hardest to control her anger, her hurt.

"But Anthony, he didn't win…he got me second. And then he gave me this," Beth said, lifting her shirt up a little to show the very bottom of the scar.

"Why?" Maggie whispered, closing her eyes for a moment before reopening them, focusing all of her attention on Beth.

"So that the other's knew that I was his. So that I knew that I was his. So that no matter what happened, I'd always remember what they did to me…"

"But he's dead, right? Y-you killed him…."

Beth wanted to scoff. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to roll her eyes at Maggie's question. But most of all, she wanted to tell Maggie yes. She wanted to be able to say that she had killed him, that Anthony was dead. But she couldn't.

"No," she said, her voice small.

She saw Maggie's mouth open, and she knew that she was about to ask a question, but Abraham quickly walking back into camp caught both of their attention. His expression was stern, serious. Beth didn't know the man that well, she hadn't bothered getting to know him, but she knew that something was wrong.

"Walkers. We gotta go. Now!" he ordered.

Author's Note: So there's the answer to the "A." I got a few reviews asking if the "A" was like the a scarlet letter, and the answer to that is yes and no. Technically, it's not. Technically it was just a way for Anthony to mark his property...he branded her. But to Beth, it is a constant reminder of what happened to her.

Also, I sort of left the chapter with a cliffhanger...I had to get walkers back into the story. Hmmm, I wonder what will happen.

Please leave a review and tell me what you think!