Schuyler's P.O.V.
I had just fallen through the window to the flat. My eyes felt weary, and slowly trembling to a thumping pulse. My adrenaline was fading. My breath was loud, billowing sluggishly from my lips. I struggled to fight the sudden fatigue drenching my mind, but I just couldn't gather enough air in my lungs to think.
My head hit the ground and I was dreaming.
"Come on, Schuyler, do you feel that? Ugh, just a little harder babe." He moaned on top of me. Gripping m hips so tightly, his knuckles were bloodless. A hot scream welled in my mouth, drenching my lips. Pain pumped through my veins, a searing fire throbbing through the expanse of my body.
A strangled whisper was released from my throat.
"It hurts so bad. I don't care what you do, just make it stop."
A laugh boomed above me, as he rubbed rough fingers up my torso.
"Don't lie to me, Schuyler, I know you like it. You like being a dirty whore."
Madly shuddering, I fiercely scrambled away as he greedily descended upon me again.
And then the world was bright, flooded with white. Of the blinding kind. I pressed a hand to my heavily beating chest, attempting to steady it. I peered up, my eyes still blurry from the brightness of the room.
Two figures towered over me. Ian and Nick. How did they find me here? I retreated backwards, shrinking to make myself as small as possible.
My lips trembled. Nick and Ian advanced towards me, almost carefully. I glared at their figures. One of them knelt down a short disance away from me. I blinked several times, furrowing my brow, and looked back to the opposing figures.
My eyes widened. A curly haired guy and a young, thin man exchanged worried glances before turning to me. I bit my lip, an unfortunate nervous habit.
Are these the owners of the flat? I held in a groan. Shit.
