She barely saw his face as he pulled her out from under the bed. He had fist-fulls of her hair, dragging her out as though she weighed nothing at all and he pushed her to the ground so that the little pen knife fell from her grasp and clattered to the floor.

Her hair was in her face, and breathless, she pushed it back with hands that trembled so much that she could barely ease the hair from her eyes and mouth.

She looked up at man with the black boots, the one who had pulled her out and her heart sank. She felt an overwhelming sense of dread, so much so that all she could do was cry. It was a silent cry, her whole body shuddering, lips parted, gasping for breath, forehead creased and she let her eyes fall from his face, hanging her head.

"You recognise me, then."

He said, stooping to pick up the pen knife, the dotted tattoo flashing across his knuckles and she flinched as he thrust the knife before her eyes so that the blade gleamed silver between them.

"What did you think this would do?"

He asked, cocking his head to one side. His pupils were pin points despite the shadows cast across his face.

"Hmm?"

But she couldn't respond, she was powerless to do anything but allow him to snatch up her arm and slash the blade across her wrist so that she cried out, a gasping shuddering cry that made him smile.

"It's only a scratch."

He grinned, and standing up he stabbed the knife through the spine of the nearest book and left it there, the little pearl handle beautiful and shining in the light.

She cradled her arm in her lap, blinking through the tears as she looked down at it, but for the first time in her life the sight of blood made her head spin, she swallowed against a sudden rising sickness and she looked away from the dribbles of hot red blood that were rising from her veins and slithering across her skin towards her hand.

He looked down at her, and as she looked up at him he began to unbuckle the leather belt that he wore about his waist.

Her scalp prickled. She seemed to be breathing too fast, and yet not at all. She pushed with her feet, forcing herself back against the wall.

"No."

She shook her head and the tears that blurred the green of her eyes spilled over , skittering across her cheeks. She reached out for the book case next to her, trying to stand.

"No."

She said again, and the man before her pulled the belt free from the jeans all at once, like a snake, licking and flicking the air as he set it free, and as he reached out to grab her arm she lashed out at him.

"You're not doing it to me again!"

Her voice was a whisper that trembled. She dug her nails into his arm, willing them to pierce his skin through his jumper, but all he did was laugh, and with what seemed like barely any effort at all, he pushed her back, her body thumping back against the wall. She slid from where she stood, down onto the floor, and bringing her knees up to her chest she let her face fall forwards and wrapped her arms about her head, crying pitiful beaten sobs into the darkness that she had created.

"Get her up."

The black booted man said quietly, and she heard the other man move.

She closed her eyes as his hands took hold of her and pulled her to her feet with a jerk that made her neck hurt.

She'd thought it wouldn't be like this, she'd thought that if something like this ever happened again she would fight it...she'd imagined it, over and over, replayed it in her mind when she was too tired to block it out. She'd gone over how she could have kicked them or bitten or...

Her arms were pulled behind her back. She sucked in a breath between her teeth as the belt was wound and pulled tight around her wrists, gnawing against the bloodied cut.

She hadn't thought it would be like this, with wet warmth draining down her palm and dripping from her fingertips. She hadn't thought it would be like this, to see what she was made of in colour HD.

She stumbled forwards, pushed from behind.

"Get her on the bed."

It was an order, but he sounded bored. She balked at the words, leaning back against the man behind her, but her feeble attempts did nothing, and she was forced onto the bed, face first, her hands tied behind her.

"Tie her feet, too."

The man with the boots said, but the moment the second man moved to grasp her legs she kicked with everything she had, screaming and screaming into the duvet until she coughed and choked and gagged on her own saliva.

But still he managed to hold her down, twisting her legs and tying them at her ankles with a string of cable ties that pinched and bit her skin.

Roughly the rolled her over so that she lay across the bed, looking up at the ceiling, her head lolling over one end so that she could see through the open door.

"Eliot..."

She whispered, without meaning to. His body lay splayed out across the floor in the sitting room, his head knocked to one side so that she could see the whites of his eyes, and his lips were red with blood that pooled in a glimmering puddle about his face.

By the side of him a little grey cat crouched, nose outstretched, white whiskers twitching as he sniffed and nuzzled the top of his head against Eliot's limp hand.

-.-

I'd love to hear what everyone thinks about the direction of the story, particularly this chapter.

Thank you all for the reviews so far! xxx