The men dragged her by the arms, by the hair, by her torn and stained clothes. Their musty, grimy, old smell surrounded and engulfed her, assailing her nostrils. Autumn tried as hard as she could to not gag or cry out in pain and disgust. They dragged her over mossy roots and soft earth, decaying patches of leaves and hard, dried soil. They dragged her over jagged rocks and over small rivers. Try as she might, she could not escape, and in the end, she just went limp, allowing the men to drag her more easily. Now that Autumn had given up, the men could move at a faster pace, thus reaching their destination more quickly.
A small wooden shack, rotting at the foundations and crumbling apart stared at Autumn with droopy, half-closed eyes. It didn't look too bad... No worse than anything Autumn had stayed in before. Then again, maybe the brutes wouldn't allow her to stay inside. Smirking menacingly, one of the men - the bald one with a tattoo of a pitbull on the back of his head - gave the signal for his troupe to drop her. They obeyed. Pitbull-man pulled out a nasty looking set of chains from his baggy trouser pockets and walked slowly over to Autumn. He looked down on her, sneering. Autumn was too tired to do anything but look back at him and hope that he wouldn't hurt her too bad. The man crouched down and pulled Autumn's wrists together quickly, snapping the chains into place around them. He took the end of the chain and put it to a nearby tree then signalled his troupe to hammer it there. They obeyed.
Autumn didn't know how long she stayed there, wrists bound. Day gave way to night, the moon rising high above her head. It was almost pitch black; the small slither of a moon and the scattered stars the only thing lighting up the area. She could hear the screams and cries, the drunken laughter and brawls. Pulling her knees to her chest, Autumn sighed, trying to gather as much heat as she could. She hoped that it would be day soon, that they would finally move on. She hummed to herself silently, thinking about what had happened, when the door to the small shack burst open. Light snaked towards her feet, a rich yellow colour, poisoned only by the swaying figure of a drunken man stumbling towards Autumn.
"Pretty, pretty girl. All chained up and useless. Pretty, pretty girl..." He burped, the foul smell of beer carried on his breath. "Pretty girl, do you want some company?" He fell to his knees in front of her. Autumn shook her head, because really, she did not in any way want his company. He didn't seem to noticed and continued to ramble. "Pretty, pretty girl. My name is.. My name is Michael.. Y-You can call me Mick.. Or Mike.. Or M.. Or Biggy My.. O--"
"Just go away." Autumn hissed, not thinking about what would happen if she provoked this person. Michael's face contorted in anger, his nose wrinkled in disgust, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Pretty, pretty girl... You don't see? It doesn't even matter if you want my company!" His filthy fingers fumbled with his zipper and button, but once he'd managed to get past that, there was no stopping him. Autumn's eyes widened as she realised what was about to happen. The man advanced on her, pinning her wrists to the tree behind her with one hand, and pulling at her pants with the other. "Pretty, pretty girl... Satisfy me." Autumn kicked, screamed, struggled, but Michael still wouldn't let go. He managed to pull down her jeans, bruising her legs in the process. Finally, he pulled down her underwear. Realising that he didn't need to hold her wrists because they were already bound, Michael groped Autumn. She screamed again.
"Stop it! Stop!" She yelled, over and over again.
"Shut up, pretty girl." The man pulled out what looked like a knife and started running it up Autumn's back. He drew back and held the knife high above his head. "Promise me you won't speak a word of what happened. Promise me." Autumn shook her head and braced herself for more pain, but just before the blade hit her square in the temple... She woke up.
