𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄! ᶜ ᵍʳⁱᵐᵉˢ

003. 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐝

My entire body hurts. It hurts so deeply- so deep, sharp, fiery. My head, my chest, my legs. Every fiber of my being hurt. It hurt in a way that there's no way I'm alive. I must be dead.

But I'm not. I know I'm not because every breath I take feels like I'm suffocating. Every breath I take sends a stabbing pain through my chest. I groan, opening my heavy eyelids. Light pours into them, causing my head to throb.

"Oh, she's up! We've been waiting on ya!" a voice echos through my ears. My vision is blurred, but I can make out a group of people standing in front of me. I push myself up, frantically looking- more fumbling, around for my stuff. My hand brushes over nothing except dirt and rocks. I silently curse as my hands turn up empty. "Oh, don't worry about that, your stuff was already claimed."

I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head to try to clear my sight and hearing. "Who's gonna claim 'er? If no one else is, I'm gonna," a man's voice sings before the group breaks out into chortles and hollers. I open my eyes, confused. Claim me? What the hell?

"This ain't no auction," I spit. My voice is groggy and scratched. I climb to my feet. A wave of dizziness swallows me, and I have to lean back on the tree behind me for support. Stars dance across my field of vision as I press my back against the rough bark of the tree. They break out into laughter again, with quirks of, "Oh, she's feisty!" and "The sassy one's 're the most fun!"

I look at the truck a couple yards away. The truck that seemingly just a few moments ago, I was ecstatic to find and feel the wind in my hair. The red beauty lay curled around a tree, tire marks painted across the road. Just the sight of it makes my body hurt.

The men just mere feet away from me cause my heart rate to heighten. I discreetly try to look around for my axe or booksack, my eyes trailing from each grimy hand to the next. "I want her," a fat man says, greedily looking me up and down. I swallow thickly, my hand flying for my holstered gun when he takes a step towards me. The well-known feeling of despair and hopelessness gnaws at my insides when my fingers find the holster empty.

"You ain't taking her. Claimed. She's mine," a gruff voice says. A muscular man pushed through the crowd, taking a large towards me. His hair was long, thinly falling in his face. He wore a black vest and had a crossbow thrown over his shoulder. His face was unreadable- his eyes void of any emotion. His thin mouth tugged down into a small frown. My eyes trail down his dirty arm and perk up at the sight of my bag and axe gripped in his fist. "Hey, that ain't fair! He got the bag, axe, and the girl!"

"Well, yall should've claimed something. If Daryl here can make the move to claim, yall can too. Now, I ain't denying that he's a greedy som-of-bitch, but, yall know the rules." The greying man turns to me. He points at me accusingly. "Ain't no point in trying to run. You're claimed, and if you try to leave, we'll kill ya," the man who I'm assuming the is ringleader, informs me. I clench my jaw at this threat. "I see any means of transportation has been ruined. Boys, let's go."

I look to Daryl, who 'claimed' me. He looks me up and down once. His expression falters the slightest, before he decides to hold my bag out to me. I yank it out of his hand, twisting my face up at him. It doesn't react- just watches as I cross my arms over the bag, tucking it against my chest. He breaks his gaze to nod his head towards the group who is beginning to walk away, signaling that we must move.

My head reels- how did I manage to get into this situation? There is no way for me to escape, at this point. I'm injured, and I'm void of weapons- unless you count the single rope I have (or had. It might've been 'claimed' by one of these slobs). So much for trying to avoid others. I guess the beach will have to wait. Until then, I need to focus on finding my way out of here.