Again. sorry for the long pause in updating. It's the same old, the same old. I wrote this during a camp I was supervising.

Hope you like it, and thank you for being patient (I sure hope so) with me and my updating. Thanks for all the reviews and kind words. :)

Not mine, not making any money from this.

I gasped after breath as the fist swung; hitting my jaw, breaking it into smaller pieces than it already was in. I bit back and didn't give them the satisfaction of my screams. I had been so badly brutalized that I had given up hope of ever leaving this forsaken warehouse alive. The punches and kicks showered over me as I lay on the cold cement floor, with my cheek firmly pressed against the raw texture of the floor. I knew my cheek must be bleeding, the texture must be breaking my skin but I was so numb that I didn't care anymore. All hope had vanished a few days ago, the small amount of daylight streaming from the small window to meters up on the wall told me that days were passing.

Adam was still slumped on the chair he had been sitting in for the last week. I could see that his chest was moving and thanked god that he was still alive. They hadn't gone easy on him, first hitting him to the brim of consciousness and then making him watch when they brutalized me. Hits, kicks, choking, cutting, burning, raping me, you name it, they did that to me.

In the middle of the night we got a small break. When the warehouse was totally dark and they would have to put the lights on, they let us rest and tend our wounds in the dark, as the light would alarm people. During this time they would sleep, regaining their strength to round two. Or in our case round nine or more.

Tonight was no exception, when it got dark they went to sleep. I waited until I heard the familiar snoring from the other side of the warehouse, then I made my way over to Adam from besides the dirty mattress. My feet had stopped working a few days ago, so crawled with my arms over to him. He looked worse than last night and I ignored my pain to help him. I sat in front of him and took the bloody towel with dried blood on from the floor and dipped it in the bowl of water they let us have to clean ourselves. I watched the towel darken as it got wet. I found this nightly routine soothing in the middle of this nightmare.

I lifted the wet and heavy towel from the bowl and squeezed the excess water back into the bowl. Then I began carefully patting the dried blood on Adams legs. I worked quietly but quickly, shhing Adam when he winced or hissed in pain. Ignoring the pleas from my body, the aching from my limbs, the stabbing pain from my cuts and bruises, all the broken bones and all the bleeding. I had to ignore all of this because I knew I wasn't walking out of this mess, but Adam still had a chance. Petrocha was angry with me, not with Adam. If I gave my slice of bread to him, he would have a better chance of surviving. So I did that, tended to him wounds, helped him eat and drink, urging him to remain strong. The thought of Adam remaining on this earth was the only thing that kept me moderately sane here.

"Charlotte..."

The voice surprised me; Adam hadn't talked since day two or three. His voice was weak, hoarse. I leaned in and placed my palm on his cheek.

"Don't talk, baby. Save your strength."

"Charlotte?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Don't give up honey. We're going to make it."

I didn't answer him, just stroked his cheek. I didn't one word coming from his mouth but I appreciated the thought.

The whole time here I was wondering about Carlos. I realized how much he meant to me and how truly sorry I was for the times I hurt him, and how sorry I was for this mess I was in and that I wasn't strong or smart enough to manage this. I was a failure for not begging able to escape; I was just as pathetic as Petrocha said I was.

The night continued as it had started, quietly. Nothing else than Petrocha's and his man's snoring and our labored breathing was heard. I leaned my cheek against Adam's knee and fell into troubled sleep, thinking that this was going to start all over again.

And I was right, after a short nap I was yanked awake and away from Adam. Two pairs of strong hands dragged me over to the mattress. Defeated I just laid there, watching them wake up Adam with a few well placed kicks and punches. I looked up at the ceiling, I knew what was going to happen and this was my way of avoiding reality. I heard the sickening sound of a zipper being pulled open. I swallowed my tears and took a deep breath.

This time the guy I named Bad-Breath started. He was more gentle than Petrocha. I could tell that he did this to me because he was afraid of Petrocha, not because he hated me. His moves were careful, he looked sad while he did his thing above and inside me. I continued to look at the ceiling, locating all the cracks and smudges I had watched for so many days. I winced only slightly when his hands grabbed the bruises shaped like hands on my hips, masking the move so that Petrocha wouldn't get suspicious.

I barely heard the sickening sound of the mattress squeaking or the sound of flesh slapping against skin nor the grunts of Bad-Breath made. I continued to look at the ceiling, thinking about the times I'd been with Carlos. The first night, those forbidden emotions, the heartbreak, the regret of ever leaving and these few days before this mess. I loved him, I was sure of that and I'm pretty sure he loves me too. I knew that he wasn't dead, I knew that I would have felt something if he had passed on. I knew that sacrificing my life was a small sacrifice to make if Carlos, Adam and the rest of my guys would be OK.

I was jerked back to reality by Bad-Breath moving away from me. I feared the things that would follow, now that I was at Petrochas mercy. I braced my body just before the first kick. His working boot hit me square in my chest, all the air squeezing out of my body hurt like hell. I curled up as well as I could do without my legs.

His hands grabbed my hair and yanked me up and threw me down, face first, into the hard cement floor missing the mattress by a few steps. I hissed but reminded laying there. No point of making this worse than it already was. I felt his weight pin me harder against the floor. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head and upper torso away from the floor. He told Bad-Breath to spread my legs apart and apparently he did that because I heard a zipper being opened. I couldn't feel a thing in my legs, being barely able to feel the vicious raping. Not that I complained, to feeling anything was the greatest gift here.

I heard Adam stir and then the sound of a body part colliding against somebody. By the groaning I would guess a very sensitive area.

Just as Petrocha sped up I heard a shot being fired. Everybody froze and a voice full of hatred was heard from the doorway.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you."

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