apocalyptic ~ m.f

2.

The next day...

mick was driving our , I guess you can say, new pick up truck? I was sitting in the back watching the road while reading the signs and looking at the buildings. my head continuously slipping off of my hand. i didn't get any sleep last night and i highly regret it. i wish my conscious would let me sleep but every time i close my eyes i see a zombie chasing me. my imagination not letting me win, against them, with such a gore ending. i mean, maybe i can sleep. mack is driving, if she sees anything, she has a gun. and she knows how to use it. i pray i have no bad endings. i lean back against the window and count the amount of signs i see as im falling asleep. thirty three.

two hours later...

i woke up with a sudden rush of pain all over my body, and a blurry vision. i moan in pain before trying to rub my eyes. i felt a struggle trying to pull my hand. it felt... stuck?

"hello? mack?" i called out.. there is a single light source in the darken room, but it only lightens the corner of the strange room im in.

"hello?!" i shout into the darkness, tugging my arms. i feel a hand lightly grace my right cheek, i move my cheek away from the mysterious pal but the hand just follows. i spit into whoever it is face.

"you nasty bitch!" the deep voice shouted at me before colliding his fist to my cheek. a sharp pain formed as i tasted iron filling in my mouth. i spit out the blood on to the floor while moaning and groaning from the pain.

"turn on the lights." the male says before the room lights up. the room is in shambles. dried blood on the floor, boxes used as tables and guns laid disorganized on top, clothes in the corners of the room, beer bottles and food wrappers scattered on the ground, it's disgusting. there are five men in the room, watching over me, like a dog looking at a fresh piece of meat.

"wake up the other one." the head of the pack said. one of the men walk over to the end of the room and i follow him with my eyes. mack, hanging by her arms, without her regular clothing on. the man takes the butt of his gun and hits her across the face with it. she screeches in pain and hangs her head down in defeat.

"wakey wakey, sweetheart." the man who hit her said, with his raspy voice. he walks away from her but my eyes stay on her. she has bruises where her ribs are and a bruise on her cheek, with a cut, oozing blood.

"Mack?! " Mack flinches at the sound of my voice. tears stream down my face from the look of her. she continues to let her head hang down in defeat. the stranger takes a knife and places the point on my right cheek, making me face towards him.

"im over here, sweetheart." he says with a smile that reads 'danger'. I try to look back at mack but the point of the knife deepens against my cheek, giving me a small cut and a trail of blood streaming down my cheek.

"what do you want?" I ask him weakly. he gives me a small chuckle as his buddies behind him scan my somewhat exposed body. he continues to chuckle and scans my face. he already took everything I have. what else is there?

"i want you, sweetheart. and your little friend too." he says with a maniacal laugh. his friends join along, high fiving each other.

"get away you fucking pigs. I'm not giving you anything."

"how cute. she thinks she has a choice." he laughs. "it's you, or a dead corpse." he says snapping his fingers. one of his buddies go to mack and cuts the ropes holding her wrist. she falls onto the floor and lays there, weak. the guy kicks her in her ribs and yells at her to get up. "so what's it going to be, sweetheart?"

"leave her alone."

"ill take that as an answer." he smirks. "boys?" two boys come from behind him, one holding me as the other cuts the ropes around my wrist, the third boy ties mack on a rope hooked to the wall. once I'm down, I punch both of the guys and lung myself at the master of the group. I scream and cry in pain, feeling a sharp knife go into my right thigh. I fall to the floor he pulls the knife out. he starts to tsk. " you shouldn't have done that, little bitch." he says, kicking my ribs. I wince and cry at the pain, feeling blood trail out of my leg. two guys lift me up by my arms and drag me out the room, blood trail following me and my head hanging low in defeat. they take me into a room with a worn out old bed, and a lamp. nothing more. the two men throw me on the bed and leave the room, leaving me with the ring leader. he looks down at me with that ugly smirk of his.