Title: Pain
Author: Sarah
Feedback: Love it, please leave it. . .positive or negative
Pairing: Pissed!Angel and a few OCs
Word Count: 924
Rating: R
Genre: Angst
Summary: A bit more backstory on Angel for our RP. PM me if you want to know more about it

Notes: Sequel to My So-Called Life. Two weeks later.
Special Thanks: Thanks Mel for reading and Shan, Tiff, Jen, Diddy, all y'all, 'cause I you know I love you and you know why.
Spoilers: nope, none
Warnings: Yeah, rape, violence, swearing.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I just put 'em through hell.

"Ow! Jesus! Stop it!" Angel warned as he pulled too hard on her wig. Seemed like pulling the wig hurt more than her own hair.
"Could pull something else," he growled into her ear, his gravely voice grating on her nerves. She sneered at him, her lip curling in disgust as his rough hands curled around her cock.
"Do it and you'll find my elbow in your throat," she warned, her voice low and menacing.
"Wouldn't try it, bitch," the trick growled again, releasing her cock, grabbing hold of her right wrist, and slamming hard into her. She grunted from the pain, but concentrated all her anger and frustration from the last couple of weeks into driving the back of her head into his nose.
"Fuck!" he shouted, his nose dripping blood, glaring at the young drag queen who was shooting daggers from her eyes, her fists raised. He started for her and she swung, missing him completely. His heavy hand drove into her eye, causing an explosion of light and knocking her backward into the brick wall behind her, the deafening clatter of metal trash cans drowning out her shout of surprise and anger.
Zipping his pants, he stood and laughed at her as fury built, her head feeling like it might explode. She struggled to stand, a difficult feat, as her long legs were surrounded by precarious trash and metal cans. Finally she made it to her feet, pulled up her underwear, and started after him in a near blind rage. Still laughing, he ran back inside, and tried to make it past the two bouncers at the door. "Ivan, stop that fucker!" Angel called, in hot pursuit. The larger of the two caught the man before he made it out the door. Her eye quickly swelling shut, Angel stormed up to her most recent trick and hit him squarely in the jaw. "Asshole!" she spat as Micah, the other bouncer, lay his hands on her shoulders.
"Calm down, Ang," he said in a less than soothing voice, tightening his hands in case she should try to get away from him. She was the smallest of the queens, probably the weakest physically, but everyone had learned quickly not to underestimate her, especially when she was angry. It took a lot to really piss her off, but once the dam broke, Micah knew first hand that she could wreak some serious damage on a man two or three times her size. "Tell me what happened," he said, trying to distract her somewhat from the object of her fury.
"Asshole pulled my hair!" she told him, starting after the trick, stopped only by the strong hands on her shoulders.
"He's bleeding, Ang," Micah reminded her.
"I hit him, yeah," Angel admitted. "After he grabbed my dick and wouldn't let go. Then he hit me. . ."
"You headbutted me, bitch!" he reminded her.
"Want me to do it again?" she asked, her eyes cold and flinty. Micah restrained her again, but a satisfied smirk flitted across her face seeing the much bigger man flinch away from her. "He fuckin' hit me in the eye, knocked me into the trashcans out there!"
"Alright, Ang, you hit him, he hit you, think you're both even. Dude, go give Pietro your money. Ang, go cool off in your dressing room."
"Goddammit, Micah!" Angel sputtered.
"Move it, Ang," the larger man insisted.
Angel snarled at the trick through her one good eye and, shaking Micah's hands off her, turned to go to her dressing room. She slammed the door and flopped angrily in the chair at the mirror, putting her head in her hands, careful of her rapidly swelling eye. A moment later, she heard the cracked door scrape open. "What now, Micah?" she asked, trying to hide her tears.
"Angel-girl, I heard you yelling. What the fuck was that all about?"
Lifting her head, Angel looked over at China, her eye almost completely swelled shut.
"Oh Christ!" the older drag queen sighed. "Stay right here, I'm getting you some ice."
"I can do it," Angel insisted, wiping tears from her cheek.
"Shut up, sweetie, let me," China reprimanded gently, heading slowly towards the kitchen. Too tired to protest, Angel put her chin in her hands, gazing at her bruised face in the mirror, then letting her eyes drift to the photos tucked behind the glass. Rosie. She smiled, looking at her little sister's 13-year old face in an old photo. She'd be almost 16 now, she thought. Bet she's a beauty, has all the guys in school lining up on the steps of the building waiting to take her out. Angel smiled at the image of flocks of boys in uncomfortable clothes waiting with flowers to see her beautiful sister. Her reverie was interrupted by China returning with a bag full of ice and a towel.
"Here Angel-girl, put this on it," she said, handing over the bag.
"Thanks," Angel mumbled, putting the bag on her swollen eye and rubbing the other with the back of her hand like an exhausted child.
"Sweetie, wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?" China asked gently.
"He pulled my hair," Angel replied petulantly.
"Honey, I'm willing to bet you've had your hair pulled before," the older drag queen reminded her.
"He was being an ass," Angel insisted.
"That all?" China asked.
"No," Angel admitted grudgingly. "Got a call before I came here. Gotta go to the clinic tomorrow." She sighed. "The results are in."