A/n: Thanks for taking a look at the second chapter! Trigger warning for rape: This is an uncomfortable chapter, so it's short. It is not required should you want to skip it and go right to Chapter 3.

Chapter 2: Mortal Peril

The girl was hooded and gagged with her hands tied behind her back and her ankles tied together. She was in the backseat of a car that had just taken a hard right turn and her head slammed against the door. The car slowed as it hit an uneven patch of road and then came to a stop. Rough hands slung her over a shoulder and she was carried inside. She knew that she was back at the house with the red walls and she squirmed, though it wouldn't do her any good.

For weeks, this house was all she had known. She wasn't sure what her name was or where she had lived before here. She thought that, maybe, this was how life started—full of the knowledge of how to speak, walk, and use the bathroom—the only thing she was allowed to get up for. But soon, she found that explanation wanting. She had a life before this, but couldn't remember a thing. Then the men who ran the house started sending her out for a weekend here and there, and she was returned under circumstances such as these.

She was thrown onto a couch and the hood was removed. The dark man who had picked her up from here at the start of the weekend was the one who returned her.

"My boss would like a refund, he never even touched her."

"Still had her for a few days, it's up to him to get what he paid for." The man who worked at the house spoke in a bored monotone.

"He could never get into the room and he had to leave on business this morning. Then, suddenly, the door was able to open."

"Lost his keys?"

"They wouldn't work."

"Regardless, no refunds. You had her for two days, you paid for two days."

"Bullshit, he never touched her."

"That's our policy. Do you really want to start a fight over a few grand?"

Eventually, her rentee gave up and left. The other man, who she knew well, grabbed her hair and looked into her eyes.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? The last one couldn't even find your cunt, you freak whore."

He threw her over his shoulder and started taking her down the hallway where the staircase was. She would be put back into the basement, she knew. Soon, she would fade away and everything would be blurry. Sometimes, she welcomed whatever drugs they gave her. But without them, she felt in control, and that's when the doors wouldn't open or her underwear wouldn't come off.

After what felt like days in the windowless basement, the girl was pulled from her bed again. She was washed roughly, her hands suspended in the air. Her hair was dried and curled and she was dressed in a white button down and short, plaid skirt: little English schoolgirl fantasy again.

As her hair was pulled into pigtails, a man whispered threats into her ear. "This one won't put up with any of your freaky bullshit. If he returns unhappy, I'll feed to my sadistic friend, the Reaper, got it?"

She nodded though she knew the Reaper didn't like little girls like her, he had told her so himself. Still, the men had decided not to take any chances. She was drugged lightly and felt groggy the whole night, not groggy enough to ignore what was being done to her, but enough that she couldn't do anything about it.

But when morning came, she was feeling like herself again. She was in a very extravagant bed that was light pink with white curtains. She pulled them aside to find a windowless room full of dolls and teddy bears. She wondered how many little girls like her had made it through there. She looked at the books: Some of them sounded familiar. She couldn't remember reading, but pulled out one of the books anyway—it was about an elephant—and took it to the bed.

She read all day, focused mostly on the pictures, and tried to take her mind off of where she was. Maybe tonight, she could focus on keeping the door closed again. Someone knocked after several hours before opening the door. She pressed herself up against the bed, but it was a girl, maybe 13, who walked in.

"Hi there, what's your name?" She didn't have a name as far as she knew, so she shrugged.

"I'm Angelica. I brought you a sandwich and some milk."

She was worried that it might be drugged, but wasn't about to turn down food. A tray with a large sandwich and a tall glass of milk was placed in front of her on the big, pink bed.

"I'll be back later to help you get ready for tonight. Is there anything else you need?" She shook her head no. Angelica smiled a small, pitying smile and left her, locking the door on the way out.

The unnamed girl ate slowly, enjoying the quality turkey and the thick bread. The milk was refreshing and she wished for another glass. As the sun started to set, she grew restless and nervous. She tried hard to keep calm, but tears regularly sprung to her eyes.

Angelica returned, as promised, and started the bath that was connected to the bedroom.

"How long have you been here?" The girl asked while she bathed in a lavender-scented bath.

"About five years. I don't really know why he keeps me around. Here, I'll wash your hair for you."

Angelica massaged the lavender shampoo into her hair but failed to keep it out of the girl's eyes.

"Ow," she squinted and reached for a towel.

"You're going to have to toughen up if you're going to survive tonight. The second one is always the worst. He didn't like that you were groggy last night. Head back."

Angelica poured clean water over her head. The girl knew she'd be alright; she'd be able to stop him.

She was wearing a very pink dress with white chiffon sticking out underneath and white mary jane slippers over white socks. Angelica led her down a long hallway, their heels clicking on the hardwood floor. A door opened to a study, where the man who hurt her last night sat on a couch, smoking a cigar.

"Ah, good timing young ladies. Angie, dear, bring in our new friend."

Angelica grabbed the girl's hand and brought her inside the room.

"Thank you darling. Give her a kiss now and go back upstairs." Angelica kissed the little girl on the lips and closed the door on the way out. The girl stood in the center of the room, terrified.

"Hello there cherry pop, look at you all dressed in pink. Come here to daddy." Tears sprung to her eyes.

"You do as I say now." She was too scared to even move.

"Oh, is that how we're going to play tonight? Get right to it?" He stood up and started removing his belt. "I'm going to give you 10 lashes for being insolent and you're going to count for me." He flung around his belt, enjoying the fear on her face, and grabbed the cigar that he had set down for another draw. But, it burst into flames and he dropped it onto his lap, which caught fire. He screamed but the fire magically enveloped him and spread across the room.

The girl had never done anything quite so destructive. The lush curtains caught fire and the bad man danced in the flames, screaming. Everything was in flames and suddenly she was worried that she wouldn't be able to stop it. A flame licked her socks but the heat didn't hurt her: This was her fire. The man had stopped moving now, and lay on the burning carpet.

She hadn't realized that the door opened to the room or that the hallway now burned too. She needed to get out of there. Her dress was on fire, she realized, and she ran out into the hallway, looking for an exit. She heard men screaming and she used her hand to put out her dress.

She found the door, already open, and ran outside, where it was lightly raining. She ran away from the group of men who had made it out safely as quickly as she could, the shoes tapping on the wet sidewalk. She turned the corner and her lungs burned, but she didn't slow down. She passed blocks and went down a skinny cobblestone alleyway. She didn't notice anyone following. She heaved and tears sprung to her eyes. But she felt victorious: she would never go back to that terrible red house.

She got away.