Clothes β check.
Money for food β check.
Fake ID β check.
I groaned when I looked down at my list, letting my head fall back down on my arm. I only had one shot to get this right, or everything was going to be fucked up. I couldn't forget anything. I couldn't afford to make mistakes, not this time. Dad might have seen me as a fuck up, but this was the one thing that was going to prove I wasn't.
"Fuck it all to hell," I growled, standing up and crumpling the paper before tossing it into the general vicinity of the garbage can, not caring particularly where it landed. It wasn't like it mattered, right? After today, I'd never have to see this house again, and I'd never have to clean it again, either.
I grabbed the backpack that I'd put everything that I was taking and hoisted it over my shoulder before jumping when I heard glass break at the front of the house. I rolled my eyes, assuming that my father was just drunk and had resorted to breaking the window in the door. The window was already wide open for my escape, and just as I start putting my second foot through to jump out, I looked behind me to see a man with a black Beanie placed on top of his head, a pair of Emerald green eyes glaring straight at me.
Okay, so apparently it's not my dad. Whatever. I've gotten too far now to stop just because some asshole is here. "Don't even fucking think about it," his voice growled at me. I just rolled my eyes at his intimidation methods and flipped him off before jumping out of the window.
"Try and stop me," I muttered under my breath. I wasn't stupid; I knew exactly who was following me, but it didn't matter. For all I cared, he was just some other asshole friend of my dad's. It didn't matter to me that he was one of the top dogs in the gang that ran my town. I wouldn't care if he was the fucking President. He wasn't going to stop me from getting the one thing I've wanted for my entire life. He wasn't going to take away my chance to get out of this town for good.
I didn't even get five feet from the window before his heavy footsteps started following me, and I cursed under my breath. He was yelling all sorts of things at me, none of the things that he was saying mattered to me.
"Fuck!" I yelled when I tripped over a tree branch, tumbling to the ground. The guy chasing me got a little closer and I felt him grab at my arm before I turned and pushed my elbow as roughly as I could into his face. He let out a slew of curse words and let go of me temporarily, and I took that as my chance to run.
My knee hurt like hell, but I couldn't afford to stop; not now. I kept running, not paying attention to where I was going, not caring where I ended up. I'd figure it all out when that asshole stopped following me. I turned to look behind me and the man wasn't there, and I smirked, thinking that I had outsmarted him. For safe measure, I ducked into a back alleyway, running straight into someone's toned chest. I looked up and saw the man's angry green eyes looking down at me, and stepped away only to have his hand tighten on my shoulder.
"Let me go, asshole!" I yelled at him, pulling my arm loose from his hold and turning to bolt again. I only just barely got out of the alleyway before I felt his hands shove me to the ground, and then I winced when his body weight landed on top of me, effectively stopping me from running anymore.
"I'd watch who you're calling those kinds of names, slut," he breathed into my ear. If it were any other situation, I may have found it sexual and somewhat of a turn on, but not with him. I struggled, trying to get him off of me, and he only chuckled as he grabbed my arms. He stood first before jerking me to my feet.
"I don't care who you are," I spat at him, trying once again to pull my arm away. I wasn't going to give up without a fight; this was my only chance to get out of Chicago, and this prick wasn't going to steal it from me. "Let me fucking go!"
"Shut up!" He told me in a low voice, twisting my wrist roughly. I cried out in pain but he just slapped me. I didn't say anything else, but continued struggling in his arms. He sighed under his breath before he spoke again. "If you don't fucking shut up, I'm going to have to hurt you," he whispered harshly.
If nothing else he'd said so far had gotten through to me, that did. I knew when someone was stronger than I was, and I knew this asshole wasn't kidding. He'd already proven he wasn't afraid to hit me, and I didn't put it past him to do worse than that. When I stopped struggling he loosened his hold on me a little, but not enough for me to get away from him. He dragged me back down the street towards my house, and when I saw my father walking up the front steps on the porch, I started struggling again.
"You bastard!" I yelled at him, pulling at my captor's arms, making him growl under his breath. My father looked back at me and blinked once before looking at the man who was holding me, and then scowled.
"You broke the window," he told the man holding me.
"Consider it part of the fucking payment. This little bitch hasn't been worth half the trouble I've gone through in getting her so far. You better fucking hope that Samoa Joe thinks she's worth keeping as a whore or a maid, or you know what'll happen, Carson."
My father didn't say anything else as he walked into the house, and I was too far in shock to comprehend anything as the man shoved me into the backseat of a car. The locks had been removed so I couldn't have gotten out even if I'd have wanted, but I wasn't thinking about getting away right now. All I could think about was how much of a fucking asshole my father was. He had never been there for me to begin with, but I'd never thought he'd sell me to some gang he owed money to. I should have left sooner. I wouldn't have been in this position if I had.
"Can we stop so I can go to the bathroom?" I asked him coldly as he started driving. He just shot me an amused smirk through the rearview mirror and then cranked the loud music blaring through the speakers so that it was even louder.
"Guess that answers that question," I muttered under my breath. I didn't say anything else as he drove into a part of Chicago that no smart person ever went into. This was the part of Chicago that the gangs owned and operated, and this was where The Second City Saints lived.
He stopped driving about fifteen minutes later. He parked in front of the garage and I watched as he got out of the front seat. He came around to the side of the car that I was sitting on and I immediately slid to the other side of the car, hoping he'd just leave me alone. "You're only making things harder on yourself," he told me sharply before grabbing my ankle and pulling me roughly. He didn't try to stop me from falling onto the pavement outside of the car, and I let out a small hiss when I reached my hand to touch my elbow, pulling my fingers away to see blood.
"You're a fucking asshole," I hissed at him. Looking up at his amused smirk as he pulled me to my feet again, I knew exactly who he was. Everybody in this town knew who he was. I didn't know his actual name, but everyone knew him as C.M. Punk .
"What did I tell you about saying shit like that?" He shot back, twisting my wrist as he dragged me towards the front door of the place. He didn't let up at all, and I took advantage of the opportunity to look around the place, thinking that maybe it could help me get out of this place sooner if I knew the layout.
The first room we walked into past the foyer was a large den, with a TV screen on the wall and a few couches. There was a man with blonde hair sitting on the couch, and his eyes were glued to the screen. Once we walked in he looked up and smirked at me before looking at Punk.
"Up for sharing later on? Chelsea is getting boring," he said before he let his eyes come back to linger on me. I glared at him and instead of looking away, he just smirked as he continued watching me. Punk tightened his hold on my wrist, and he turned to give me a smirk of his own.
"She's Joe's' you gotta ask him," he told his friend before looking at me. "If I let you go and you bolt, you're as good as fucking dead."
"Fine," I snapped at him. I pulled my wrist away from him I nearly fell over when he let me go, causing both of them to crack up before I took a seat on the couch furthest away from them. Punk watched me for several minutes, and then blinked when he saw another man walk into the room.
Unlike the others, this man scared me on sight. He was taller than me by at least a foot and a half, if not more, and his body was all muscle. He looked in my vicinity, and then looked over at Punk. "What is that?" He asked, nodding in my direction. "Why is she here? I thought I told you toβ"
"That, Punk said, pointing at me before glaring at me. "Is the little bitch you sent me after."
The man looked over at me, studying me for a few more minutes before taking a deep breath. "Why does she look like you beat the hell out of her? I didn't say to do that."
"No, Joe, what you told me was that you needed me to get her," Punk shot back angrily before glaring at the taller man. "I assumed you meant by all means necessary."
There were no words spoken between the two of them for several minutes before the taller of the two walked over to stand in front of me. I was almost scared that he was going to hit me, so I was a little surprised when he backed up and looked over at Punk again, this time more annoyance in his voice than before.
"You roughed her up, so you can fuckin' clean her up," he told Punk before looking over at me once again. "I wouldn't recommend pissing him off any more than you already have. Do what he says and he won't hurt you."
Both Punk and I watched Joe leave the room, and I could only think of one thing as I watched him leave.There's no way these assholes are keeping me here.
