Abused and Saved by a Gang

Chapter 2

Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes xx

Chapter 2

When I became conscious again I didn’t bother opening my eyes. I knew where I was.

In a dark room with a bare light bulb above me, with a silver door behind me, I was sat on a chair with both my legs tied to a chair leg, so I couldn’t kick out to defend myself. My hands were also tied behind by back, so I couldn’t dodge any of the hits they through at me.

I tried pulling on the ropes to see how loose they were, it was so tight that the blood could probably only just get in through my veins. My hands were most likely purple. Ouch.

“Stupid assholes”

“Oh, you’re awake” said a pleased, low voice.

Crap, I must’ve said that out load. Opps.

“How did you know?” I asked like I was talking to a four year old.

The next thing I felt I was expecting because it was the first thing my torturer usually does. I felt a sharp pain on the left side of my face. He slapped me.

I looked up at the ceiling hopping he wasn’t going to see my tears that were just appearing, show how weak I was.

“Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to hit girls, especially girls with their hands tied behind their back?” I said in a bored tone, still looking up at the ceiling. It was a question but I didn’t give him time to answer.

“No, I didn’t think so” I muttered to myself, but made sure he could hear me.

“She most likely left you on the side of the road. Well I guess that explains-!”

I was cut off when the air was sucked out of me, and then I felt a sharp pain to my stomach and ribs. Ah SHIT I went too far again, now I will probably have a few broken ribs I will defiantly have to go to the hospital this time.

“You don’t know anything !” he shouted in my face, well his mother is obvious his soft spot.

“I bet I do! Pick any subject and I will tell you at least one fact about it” I said mockingly with my head held high, ignoring the pains in my body.

When you have been through this for the best part of four years, you don’t get scared anymore you learn to hide the pain by mocking and being sarcastic towards other people, so they don’t think you’re weak. Sure I don’t get hunted down and beaten every day, it only happens about once or twice every month (thank god it’s not any more) but not everyone goes through this much pain in their whole life time let alone four years.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU WHORE!”

“Oh John” It was the name I had given him because he wouldn’t tell me his real one. “I have told you before, call me poppy we have known each other for a long time”

This so called person called John had dark brown hair that is cut military style and green eyes. He also has a scar on his left cheek.  In a way he kind of looked like an evil action man.

I have had the same person punish me every time I have been here and it is safe to say he doesn’t like me.

“I have told you before that my FUCKING name is not John!” he shouted pacing the small, boxed shaped room.

 He then stormed up to me and punched me in the face, my head flow back on impact and most likely gave me whiplash. I felt blood trickle down my face and then the soring pain hit me on the right side of my face.