I am cold. Why am I cold? I roll over to find the pillows and blankets of my bed missing. I'm not in my bed. I'm on an old, dirty floor. All I have covering me is a thing, scratchy blanket.

I am in pain. Everything hurts. There's this pounding in my head. No. Not my head, but I hear it. I open my eyes to try and find where it's coming from, but the dim light hurts them. The pounding continued, hurting my head even more.

I hear a voice. A man's voice. It's so familiar. It's Wayne I think.

"Wayne?" I asked in a whisper.

"Amelia?" He shouted.

"Wayne! In here!"

I jerked up when I yelled for him. Pain shot through my entire body. Instant regret for the movement. I heard a gunshot, then another, then the door opened and there he was.

Wayne ran over to me. Well, as much of a run as a 60-year-old, cancer-ridden cop could do. He knelt down next to me on the ground and touched my hair. That's when it all came back. I screamed as the memories of what happened to me came rushing back to the forefront of my mind.

I was driving home from Bobby's party. Strippers weren't really my thing and I wanted to get home. I was stopped at a red light when a van pulled up behind me. It was a green minivan, flashing its lights and wailing on its horn. A woman jumped out; she was young, maybe my age or her early twenties at most. I was only 18.

She was crying. I grabbed my gun out of my purse when she came towards my car.

"Help me! My baby's choking!" She cried.

I put my gun down and my car in park.

"Alright, alright." I got out and ran to the back of her van. "What did he swallow?" I asked, opening the van door.

"I-I don't know. Maybe a bottle cap or a coin or something."

I leaned into the back and raised the visor on the carseat. A doll. It was a goddamn babydoll. I picked it up and turned around, that's when she hit me. She wacked the back of my head with a blackjack and the world went dark.

When I came to, I was in a warehouse, handcuffed to a chain-link. My toes could barely reach the ground and my shoes were gone. I looked around and it was dark except the light above the back of my head. I could make out three figures to my left. They didn't know I was awake.

I raised up as much as I could and tried to pull my hands down off the chain. It didn't work. Instead it made a noise loud enough to alert my captors that I was awake.

I started to panic. I couldn't cry. I am Amelia Morrow for fuck's sake. I am the biker princess. Hell, I am the princess of SAMCRO. I could not cry. Instead I got angry.

They walked over and stood in front of me. There were three of them, all in masks and dark clothes. None of them spoke. I couldn't stand them staring at me, so I started yelling.

"Who are you! What do you want! Do you know who I am! What I can do to you!"

One of them started walking towards me. I knew I couldn't stop them, but I had to do something. So, I kicked him in the groin and when he bent down I kicked his face screaming, "Take off the mask you pussy!"

The one on my left came up and punched my face and stomach. Then he and the one I kicked grabbed the legs of my jeans. I fought and kicked and screamed, but they just raised me into the air and pulled them off.

When they did come off, I slammed so hard into the fence behind me that it knocked the wind out of me. The other one, the leader I thought, took that chance to step forward and rip my shirt open, sending buttons flying everywhere.

He was the first one to actually touch me. I heard his zipper and then it was as if I left my body. Like I was hovering about it all, watching it happen. Then the next one stepped forward and turned my body around. I heard the one after that come forward and thought that it would be over soon, but I was wrong. Once they each had a turn, they cycled through again and again for what felt like hours.

Finally one of them turned me back around. Even the slightest movement sent pain through my entire body. In between their relentless violations, they had punched my face and stomach a couple of times.

"Please." I begged when I came face to face with his white latex mask. "Please stop."

"Sorry ma'am." He said, I knew that voice from somewhere, but I just couldn't place it. "We're almost finished. We've got a message for your old man."

"Why not just tell my dad yourself?" I rolled my eyes. I was a smartass, always, just like my mother.

That earned me another slap. He grabbed my face by my cheeks, pressing in between my teeth again and said, "Because this gives him some incentive to comply."

When he spoke again I looked down at his neck. He had a tattoo poking out of his mask. It was an upside down peace sign, done with navy blue ink and filled in with orange. I had seen that tat before, but where?

"Tell Clay to stop selling guns to niggers and wetbacks. Or we find you and we do this again." He pulled down his zipper one last time and buried his head in my neck.

When he finished they all backed up to admire the mangled mess they had turned my body into. There was blood, tears, and makeup running down my face. My stomach and hips were bruised. There were bite marks on my chest and shoulders. And there was blood and something sticky running down my legs. My brain hadn't caught up with what it was yet.

When they had seared the image of what they had done to me into their brains, the man with the neck tat stepped forward. He grabbed my wrists and pulled me down onto the cold concrete. I was in so much pain from falling onto the ground, I could feel myself blacking out. The last thing I could hear was him saying, "Now, don't forget to give your father our message, ma'am."