The second he locked my door, I threw a pillow at the wall and then burrowed under the blankets, more out of frustration than anger. I had been trying to find my way out of this place, and instead of finding the foyer like I'd been planning, I had somehow ended up in the kitchen. I was far more depressed and frustrated than I was angry.

And to make matters even worse, I'd walked in to see Punk practically raping one of the girls here against the wall. I'd always had the assumption that the rumors were true—with this gang, I definitely wasn't going to discount anything I heard about them. But seeing it with my own eyes had been something else entirely, and it made me feel even more desperate to get out of here. I didn't want that to end up being me.

It occurred to me that with the door locked, there was no way I could get out to even go to the bathroom if I had to. I groaned and pulled a pillow over my head, trying to ignore that thought that I was truly locked into this room. I thought once more about the window, but shoved that idea out of my head as well. I was thin, but I wasn't a fucking size two or anything like that. With my luck, about the time I got halfway down the outside wall, the sheets would come untied and I'd end up breaking my neck or something like that.

I tried for five hours to get some sleep, but only ended up tossing and turning for most of the night. True to his word, Punk was making sure I couldn't sleep. When he was finally done abusing whichever girl he'd decided to hurt, I still couldn't sleep because he had taken the liberty of playing loud music in the room right next to mine. He was bound and determined to piss me off, and even if I already was angry with him, I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

When I saw the sun start peeping through the windows on the farthest wall from the bed, I decided I'd try to find another way to get out of the house. The only way to do that would be to get someone to unlock the door, but I had an idea on how to do that. I walked over to the door and started banging and kicking it as loudly as I could, telling whoever was out in the hall or within hearing vicinity that I needed to pee.

Finally, a very agitated Homicide opened the door, and I just gave him a sheepish grin, like I hadn't been making a racket. He studied me for a minute, and then when he recognized me from the night before, he took a step back before continuing to glare at me. "What the hell do you want?" He grumbled.

I just gave him a dumbfounded look. I had just been yelling as loudly as I could for the last ten to fifteen minutes that I needed to use the bathroom, and he was telling me he didn't know what I wanted? Either he was fucking stupid or he was deaf. I was betting on both of them, because before I could open my mouth to answer, he just rolled his eyes and started walking back down the hallway. "Go back to your room whenever you're fuckin' done," he muttered under his breath.

I grinned at him, and then walked back into the room before looking around for anything that I could use to get out. I knew I wasn't going to be able to get out during the day; it would be too easy for them to see me, and they'd notice far too early for me to get a safe distance away from this hellhole. The only thing I could see that might be of any use to me were the curtains hanging on the windows, but I figured those would probably be missed pretty quickly and they'd figure it out what I was doing. Homicide might be as dumb as a box of rocks, but Punk would definitely know something was up.

I found the bathroom that Punk had taken me to the night before and scrunched my nose when I recalled him telling me to take my jeans off. As far as I was concerned, he'd only done that so he could see what I looked like under my clothes and it pissed me off. He might be able to control the other girls around here, but I wasn't going to let him do that to me. I tried to lock the door behind me, but like the door on my bedroom, the only lock was on the outside, which was another inconvenience. I just hoped like hell no one else decided they needed to use the bathroom this early in the morning.

I looked around the room and groaned in frustration when I saw that the only window was a small, half-sized crescent-shaped one above the bathtub, and I couldn't help but want to scream. There was no way I was fitting through that thing, and even if I somehow could, I didn't know if there was roof under it or if it was just a long fall to the ground. I was tempted to just go back to my room and sulk, but I figured I might as well shower and get it over with. I grabbed the chair from the vanity and placed it under the doorknob so no one could come into the bathroom while I was using the shower, and then set about doing that.

Once I was done with my shower, I heard voices right outside of the bathroom, and my face paled when I realized that it was Punk and Samoa Joe. I stayed quiet as I got dressed, listening into bits and pieces of their conversation as I did so.

"—I'm telling you, Joe. I don't trust the bitch. You might think she's sweet and harmless, but she's not. She already tried to escape last nigh," Punk said impatiently to his friend before muttering something I couldn't understand under his breath. I narrowed my eyes as I glared at the door. I was getting really sick and tired of him calling me 'bitch,' and 'slut.' I knew he had to have known my name, and I wasn't just some piece of meat. Besides that, the only reason I'd been bitchy to him was because he'd been an ass to me first. That, and he was a rapist. And a gangster. And he was keeping me here without my consent. There were a million reasons why he was an asshole, but I hadn't given him one reason to call me a bitch.

Samoa Joe just responded to his friend's words with a chuckle, and then spoke. "She isn't gonna get out of here, Punk. And even if she did, all we'd have to do is put her picture out there and someone would tell us where to find her. She's nothing to worry about."

I smirked at his words and shook his head. If Samoa joe seriously thought that I was just going to stay put here and let them do whatever it was that they were going to do, he was just as stupid as Homicide. I might not have had a lot of friends before I got here, but the ones I did have were just as good as I was at hiding. These assholes wouldn't be able to find me, not if I managed to get out of here and get to one of my friends' places first.

"I don't see why you fucking took her as payment anyway," Punk grumbled. "She's too fucking mouthy for anything, and you said she's not going to be a fucking maid like the others. What the hell are we doing with a bitch like her if she's not going to be sucking dick?"

Before I could respond, Samoa Joe said something quietly and then pulled on the doorknob before knocking loudly on the door. "Skylar, I don't suggest you try to keep that door shut. You're done with your shower, which mean's you're done with your privacy. Open the damn door," he told me. I groaned and pulled the chair out from underneath the doorknob and put it back on the vanity before Samoa Joe opened the door with an amused smirk.

"What the fuck is so funny?" I glowered at him, crossing my arms over my chest. He might have the decency to at least call me by my name, but when it came right down to it, he was just as bad as the others; worse, even, because he was the 'leader,' or whatever the hell you wanted to call it.

"You think that chair is really going to keep any of us out if we want in?" He asked me dubiously before shaking his head, tilting it back with laughter before he leaned it back up and looked at me again. "Breakfast is downstairs. Punk will take you to the kitchen and show you where to eat. After that, he's going to—"

"I'm not doing shit after she eats," Punk interrupted Samoa Joe, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at the buff man. "She'syourbitch, soyoutake care of her."

"Punk," Samoa Joe said warningly before turning to look at him. "This isn't up for debate," he told the green-eyed man before flicking his brown eyes back at me. "After you eat, he's going to show you back to your room and get you some new clothes that aren't the ones in your dresser. He can figure out what to do with you after that."

I opened my mouth to disagree with him before he held his hand up, giving me a warning look that told me not to argue with him. He didn't say anything else as he walked out of the bathroom, and Punk glared at me again before roughly grabbing my wrist. "What the fuck? Let me go," I growled at him, trying to pull my arm away from him. I already had bruises forming on my skin from where he'd grabbed me the day before, and I didn't feel like having a sprained wrist or anything like that. Especially since I was still planning to get the hell out of here.

"Shut the fuck up," he said in an angry tone before turning to walk down the stairs. He moved fast and I had to as well so I didn't fall and reinjure myself from the day before, and when we got to the bottom, I couldn't help but hit his back as hard as I could with my fist. Instead of wincing or even flinching, Punk stopped dead in his tracks and then pushed me up against the wall, holding my wrists above my head with one of his hands before grabbing my jaw with the other one, giving me no choice but to stare into his Emerald-green eyes.

"I don't fucking recommend you do that again, bitch," he said in a low voice before leaning his face closer to my ear. Some girls might consider the position I was in to be sexy. I'd tell them they were sick in the head. He continued speaking after a few minutes, and my body shivered involuntarily when his hot breath hit my ear. "Otherwise, I'll make sure your hands are always tied up."

His lips just barely brushed over the skin of my cheek as he pulled away, but it was hardly romantic. If anything, he was trying to show me that he was dominant. Instead of acting like a scared little puppy, I just glared at him and smirked. "You won't touch me," I challenged him, keeping my eyes on his. "If you were going to, you'd have done it last night."

I didn't know why I was testing his patience, especially when I saw something flicker in his eyes that scared me a little bit, but I've already said I'm not the smartest girl when it comes to keeping things to myself. His hold on my wrists tightened before he let them fall to my side, reaching one hand back to grab a chunk of my hair as he forced me towards the kitchen before making me sit down in one of the barstools at the counter. The same girl he'd been molesting the night before was dishing food up, and when she saw Punk, she just turned away and grabbed a plate.

"Traci, give her a little less than the others," Punk told her before walking over to the fridge to grab a beer. I wanted to make a comment about his drinking before it was afternoon, but I didn't feel like pushing my luck right now. The girl just dished up a smaller plate of food and placed it in front of me before looking over at Punk and then walking back over to the stove.

"Your food is done too, Punk," she told him in a soft voice. I watched as Punk nodded, walking behind her before slapping her ass roughly with his hand. She jumped and then looked at him with a small smile, and I just glared at him. It was bad enough that he'd pulled that little stunt in the stairwell with me, but now he was back to molesting the girl in front of me. How the hell did he expect me to eat after seeing that?

I started eating slow bites of the food, not liking the fact that I had no choice but to eat, and when my food was finished he pulled me up again. "What the hell?" I asked him. He just rolled his eyes before dragging me towards the staircase again. I followed him, not wanting to fall, and expected him to just take me to my bedroom. Instead, he kept walking further down the hallway until we reached another stairwell. He dragged me up those like he had the first one, and when we got to the top, I realized that this must be where he and the others slept. He didn't say anything as he walked into the bedroom closest to the stairwell. That would explain why I had been able to hear everything the night before, I figured. He had taken the grate over the heating vent off so the sound would travel down. I glared at him, and he just smirked before pushing me towards the bed. The second I landed on the mattress, my blood went cold as I looked up at him. No fucking way was I going to let him touch me.

"What's the matter, slut?" He asked me, moving closer to the mattress and then moving so that he was hovering above me, his knees on either side of my body. I tried to push him away, but he just smirked before pushing me down onto my back. "You can dish a challenge but you can't take the consequences?"

In the few seconds he took to speak those words, I felt tears forming in my eyes, and I tried to shove him away again. I should have known to keep my mouth shut, but no. I just had to be a smartass. And now, he was going to rape me just like he did the other girls.