I don't know how long I was out. When I woke up, the pain was excruciating. I didn't want to move, but I also couldn't stay still. No matter what I did, the pain simply wouldn't go away. I was still on the bed, my ass still in the air. I turned my head around and saw that my wrists and ankles were still bound to the bed's posts. My thighs and calves were cramping from being stuck in this position. God, I'd give anything to be able to walk around. I moved the tiniest bit and a sharp pain splintered through my gut. Nope, I think I'll stay right where I am and do whatever I can to not move a single bit.

Window-Knocker and Friend came into the room. I heard there voices, my head turned away from the door. It was stupid, I know, but I wanted to look out the window. Or, rather, the light that came in around the horribly dark blinds that were closed over the window. It was better than looking at this fucking room that was slowly getting dirtier and dirtier. I could see on the bed posts, especially, that the dust was collecting. Obviously, men wouldn't have the audacity to keep their victim's surroundings clean, now would they?

They each sat down on the bed, the mattress sinking under the weight. I couldn't help but cry out as the shift made my body move and the fire in my gut ignited anew. Knowing I should just go with it, I used this opportunity to turn my head and face them, feeling the sweat break out over my body with the pain. It was only then that I realized I wasn't gagged anymore. The downside to not being gagged? I didn't have anything to bite into to help with the pain. All I could do was grind my teeth together.

I must have passed out, or nearly passed out. The next thing I knew, Window-Knocker was caressing my ass. It made me move, the muscles in my thighs and stomach working, and I screamed out. Friend whacked me good over the head to silence me and I was out again.

I awoke…again…again not knowing how long I was out. I could feel something cool running down my thighs. I didn't know if it was blood or…something else. I hoped it was blood. I didn't want to fathom anything else at this point. It was quiet. I couldn't hear anything coming from the rest of the house. Not that it didn't surprise me, but it was one of those eerie quiets that you'd expect to hear in a scary movie. That thought made me laugh inside. A scary movie would be preferable to this. I tried to move my feet, but they were secured fairly well. Taking a deep breath, prepared for the burning pain in my gut, I turned my attention to my wrists. Looking up at them, they seemed to have a bit more play in the rope than my ankles. I tugged them, feeling the rope bite into my skin. The skin on my wrists was getting raw and starting to break down, and I could tell it would start bleeding soon.

My mind was working overtime, trying to contemplate what was going to happen. I thought back to Tyler and Jake. I thought back to Robin, her face the last time I saw her. That day, I never could have seen myself in this position – this predicament.

I bent my fingers down, trying to reach the knots. They were just out of reach. Bracing myself for the pain, I stretched forward, trying to bring my teeth to the knots. Groaning in pain, I was able to do it. I used my teeth to loosen the knot. Why hadn't I thought of this before? What the hell was my problem? I wasn't the type of woman to tolerate this sort of abuse. The rope fell away from my wrist and I started working on the other wrist. The pain in my gut was a constant, but I forced it down, making it become a background nuisance like a mosquito. Both knots gone, my wrists free, I massaged my hands together, working the blood flow back into them. The pins-and-needles feeling seemed to last forever, but I knew if I didn't wait for it to dissipate, my fingers would be useless trying to free my ankles. I looked around for something to wear, so that when my ankles were free, I'd have a plan. Things to aim for. Something in the back of my mind told me these small goals were important, otherwise I might falter and collapse.

I made myself sit up on my haunches, my back and gut protesting the sudden movement. Tears streamed down my cheeks unbeknownst to me. Breathing heavily, through the pain, I twisted myself around, reaching for the rope that was knotted around my ankles. These knots weren't tied so well, coming undone much more easily. Why would the men think I'd ever be untying them?

My ankles and wrists free, I worked my way to the edge of the bed. Gingerly, I sat down, the sense of a giant burning hot rock sitting in my gut and between my thighs was going to kill me, I just knew it. I took a deep breath; my eyes glued to the sheet that was draped over what appeared to be a chair, and pushed myself to my feet. I immediately collapsed to the floor, grunting in pain. I knew I couldn't have much time left by myself so I forced myself to crawl towards the sheet. Reaching it, I pulled it off the chair and draped it around my body, tucking the end in so it wouldn't fall off when and if I could stand up. The door to the room was ajar, I guess they liked to be able to walk past and look at me. I crawled out of the room, and down the hallway towards what I could remember should be the living room. The pain in my gut flared with the movement but the tears dried on my face. I got to a bookshelf in the hallway, using it to climb my way back to a standing position.

I was winded, sweating, and I just generally felt like shit by the time I was standing up. I stood there, looking down the hallway. It was either dawn or dusk by the light I could see from the windows. Keeping my hand on the wall, I tried to hurry as much as I could towards the door, knowing I just needed to get out of this house. This Hell. It took forever. I could feel the time ticking away in my head. I knew, I just /knew/ the men were standing on the other side of that door and all of this pain, this self-torture was for naught. I didn't care. I had to do something. I fought my way towards the door, stumbling from one piece of furniture to the other. My legs were weak and the added pain from their lovely use of a red-hot piece of metal in my body was about to kill me. Grabbing hold of the door knob, I turned it, and the door swung open. I don't know if the fact that there was no one there or the fact that my freedom was so close hit me harder. Either way, I tried my best to run from the house, down the porch and towards where my mind told me my truck should be.

The sheet came undone and I tripped down the one step of the porch. I crashed down to the ground, the dirt and gravel digging into my hands, arms and chest. It hurt something terrible, but it dulled when I saw that my truck wasn't there. That pain, the pain of not knowing what I was going to do now, hurt more. I didn't cry. I lay my cheek down on the ground, trying to gather my wits about me. I wanted to slap myself. If I was me and me was some girl lying prone on the ground, I'd slap her, kick her, and call her a bitch. As it was, I started laughing. It must have sounded like a maniacal laugh, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

I got to my feet, the sheet in my hands. I rewrapped it around myself, tucking the end in again. I slapped it against my side, somehow thinking that it would make it stay better. I looked around trying to decide which way to go.

Voices.

Male voices.

Their voices.

Fuck.

I ran for the trees. I don't know how I did it. My instinct for survival must have overridden the pain. I ran like my life depended on it. I don't know if I made any noise or not, I just ran. The trees whipped past me, low-hanging branches caught my hair, the sheet, and scratched at my arms. I kept going. The voices seemed to grow louder in my head, but I knew they were behind me. I looked back once, but didn't see them. It didn't matter, I kept running. My legs were like spaghetti beneath me, but I kept going. My lungs burned, my lips cracked, my feet were killing me.

I couldn't stop.

I couldn't.