The wounds screams on my back in anger, as the adrenaline abdicates. The stings from the wet lash weren't even as painful as the aftermath. I had passed out in the middle of my 'disciplinary session', as beardy called it.

He came in the night the light a flicker with him. The abject strap shone gold sparking my skin. I let out a scream that bounced off the the walls and slapped me in my face. The echo swam down into my open mouth, slamming it shut, and turning off my oxygen. Shock guiding itself unto my features.

The last time I got lashed was in the cottage. Memories became clear, beardy was the same one who lashed me. Life was reoccurring. It always did. I slipped into the darkness the pain abated.

The pain now is barely better than two days ago. Stewart had been long gone same as Beardy. No one had visited me after my tattoo session. Hunger took its stay with me, enzymes chewing on my insides in search for nutrients. Dirt became my second layer, blood my third.

I shift positioning myself into a comfortable posture. Abruptly a strike of pain slices through my back before absconding. I sit up along the head board, cuff twisting on my wrist. I wipe my bloody face with my free hand before looking down at my other and realizing it was free from the bed. The handcuff hangs loosely on my wrist.

I bolt for the door pain sitting on the back burner as my mind yearn to find out where room 1212 was. I walked opposite to where I went the last time, straight down to where I watch them take my father, then turn right. I continue walking keep a eye on the numbers above the realizing they were decreasing. An intersection showed itself, i stayed right. The numbers increased. Footsteps alerts me of company. I am not getting caught.
I turn back and walk as fast as my feet can carry me. I continue straight, left where I should have turned. Hurriedly I open the door that has 1212 carved above it in white.

I turn my back to the occupants ensuring that the door is locked. I gasp dances to my ears and I turn around facing three pairs of eyes. Shock grease to their faces as their eyes travel down my body.

My eyes adjust to the dark room, as it scans each and every corner.
Sleepy head sits on his stool to the far end, Christopher, Stewart and Cindy on the floor all caged.

Dirt resides on Christopher's skin, soaking blood that escaped from the fresh scrap on his check. His lips crack from dehydration and eyes tired from exaggeration, while his face displays shock.

Dried blood sits upon Stewart's shirt neck line, and shoulder from his nose bleed. His face swell red from the punch he received, the other day. Worry dances in his eyes, shock his face presents along with the bags which represents tiredness.

Cindy looks away from me, the best looking out off all. The only things out of place are: spec's of dirt and a broken heel. What is she doing here?

My eyes dart to Danny as his movements alert me. His boots click on the floor as his arms move after me. I Chop it from it's grip, then chop his neck. He steps backwards holding his attacked neck, looking up at my bloodstained folded fist abase. He lungs forward again, I move to the side, just before he moves pass me an make it for the ground. They always fall for me so quickly, even in my bloody state. I chuckle at his pathetic miss, before I'm swept off my feet with his foot.

My breath leaves my mouth in a whisper as my back attacks the ground and a squeal pushes up from my stomach. My eyes roll over, as my fist clench. My back is definitely broken.

Danny swings his feet over my torso sitting on my stomach. His eyes pierce into mine, before his hands go sing songs on my checks. My face redness with every passing note, while Christopher hollers for him to stop.

He doesn't, I make him. He falls back. I stick my hand into his side chopping him twice before cutting his neck with the side of my palm. The music dies down and the instrument rest, while disco lights up the room. His head spins with every echoing slap before I push him to the ground and change our position.

As soon as I sit on his stomach I hold him by his wool and slams his head unto the ground. Once, two, not the third. I just want to knock him out. I fall on top of him my back crying for help. Oh, what judgement beardy will face when I find a way out.

I look over to the captives, like myself, then drag myself over to them.

"Are you okay?", Christopher ask. Do I look okay, my mind forms a quip reply, but the worry evident in his voice forces me to pay attention on the fact that he cares. A small smile fights it's way to my face, as I wince.

"Yeah, not like I haven't been through worse," I joke brushing my few bruises aside. I give my father a small smile, before looking at Cindy with questioning eyes. She turns her head yet again, my face crease into a frown.

My eyes moves to Christopher who looks at Cindy with disgust, then back at me.

"Do you know something I don't?" I question.

"She brought us back here for unfinished business. Mission exclusive 5.0," he respond blankly, before bowing his head. I groan internally. Seriously I'm back into a mission I didn't sign up for.

"What's your problem?" I bark unintentionally loud. My voice cement into the wall, bring silence after.

"What's this darn mission about anyway?"

"Exclusive"

"Yeah right. Go in and get yourself killed for something you know nothing about," I sarcastically respond to Cindy 'exclusive' response.

"That's what you signed up for," she says.

"I signed up to protect, correction," I say with attitude. My hand raise and index finger pointing to the sky. I stare her down.

"You signed up to go on missions, and this is one," Cindy authoritative voice come over mine. My mouth shuts, she's right.

I look over on the two hurt men.

"I'll be back with a first aid kit. Catch me up when I'm back," I say before excorting myself through the doors.