“So Carajo tenemos Alguen que vomita mucho.” “Oh, shit. We have a puker,” a man said in Spanish. I took two years of accelerated Spanish classes, and would study more of the language at the library in my spare time. I couldn't let on that I understood them. I didn't even understand why, but my instincts said that I might need to use something I heard. Another man laughed, and I cringed as the pain on my back began radiating.

“It hurts. Make it stop. It hurts so bad,” I cried out and heard yet another laugh. These men were all monsters.

“Ponga la perra de su miseria.” Put the bitch out of her misery.

I felt a prick and then everything began to numb. A second later, my vision blurred and then... blackness.

I blinked. I was laying on my stomach back in my cell. Pain, so intense, made my back throb. I remembered the branding iron. Who the fuck brands someone? I needed to use the bathroom, but the moment I tried to move, nausea hit me and the room started to spin. I had to be drugged. As I l tried to lay still and not move, I realized you were here, sitting on the edge of the cot.

“You’re here.”

You cocked your head to the side and looked at me curiously. Your hazel eyes were soft and caring. The scruff on your face was days old.

“Why did you leave me? Why did you let him take me?” I wanted to touch you, but my hands were like jelly. I wondered if you were still the same.

You don’t answer me.

I looked at your clothes, you were wearing a SAMCRO t-shirt, black jeans and boots. Your hands ran through your hair, the way they did when you were deep in thought.

“Do you know what he did to me? Do you know what they did to me? Do you know what I had to do?” I asked you question after question, but you did not answer. You continued watching me and then you reached for me, but started to fade. You weren’t there. “No, don’t go,” I pleaded. I needed you here. I began to cry. The pain in my back hurt. My head spun. I wanted out of this hell.

The door creaked open again and I couldn't be sure if it was really happening or not. A Hispanic man wearing all black entered. He had a glass in his hand with a straw sticking out of the top. I wanted to recoil, but I was too numb. He moved towards me, in what felt like a flash, and was in front of me. The straw was to my lips and he ordered, “Beber.” I was to drink. I couldn't fight, so I succumbed to his order and I drank. The room swirled, he disappeared.

I see your face. You’re back. Your hand hovers over my face, not quite touching me. I want you to touch me. I want your comfort, but then I’m light, like a feather floating away, until I am a cloud. Nothing was holding me down. I reach out trying to grab hold of something, anything. I’m falling, feeling like Alice tumbling through the rabbit hole. Everything begins to swirl again, and I close my eyes. Darkness.

I awoke to my head throbbing. My throat felt parched and I had to pee so bad it hurt. I sat up and felt the pain in my back. I remembered what happened, but thankfully, the pain wasn't as strong as it had been. My legs felt like jelly when I first tried to stand, but after a moment, I was able to move to the toilet. When I was finished, I decided I needed to shower as well. I turned on the water and stuck my face under it, drinking as much water as I could. When the water touched my back, it stung, so I avoided that as much as possible. I didn’t even want to look at it. I wanted to pretend he didn't mark me, but the reality was, I was marked in so many ways.

I finished the shower and stared at the wall. At some point, the door opened and my tray was set inside. My stomach growled, and I realized I had no idea when the last time I ate was. I kept the blanket wrapped around myself, and grabbed the tray and ate. Peanut butter, again, coated my throat and I quickly drank the juice. My eyes began to get heavy and I wondered if they were drugging me? That was the final thought I had until I was out cold.

I woke up and actually had a bit of energy. I had no idea what day or time it was. My back still hurt, but it seemed to be healing, which made me think that I’d been sleeping a lot. I was used to working out and I wanted to try to keep up my strength so that if the opportunity presented itself to escape that I was still strong.

I dropped to the ground and began doing push-ups. I could immediately tell that I’d already lost some weight. I did three sets until my body screamed, then I moved on to squats and running in place. I broke a sweat and my body tired easily. Who was I kidding? I was no Sarah Connor. I wasn't going to get free and kick the bad guy’s ass. I just had to survive.

The shower called to me, I didn’t even mind the coldness of the water. Once finished, I laid on the cot with my blanket wrapped around me. I couldn't stop thinking about Gun. I was so worried about my little boy. It hurt badly, like a grip on my heart, when I thought of him, so I tried to stop. I tried to think of Gunner. I tried to think about the club. What I didn't think about was what I would do the next time the door opened and it was Enrico. I couldn’t let my thoughts go there. He was vile and horrible, and the second I let my mind drift to what the monster might do was the second fear started to seize me.

Chapter Twelve Gunner

“Dad! Heads up!” Gunner threw a football towards me. It was a neon-colored Nerf football. I quickly shot my hands up from my desk and grabbed it. He was getting along good with the guys at the shop and not much seemed to faze him, although the more days that passed without word about Charlie, the more I could see his light dimming.

“He’s got a good arm on him,” Shane said leaning against the doorjamb as I watched Gun run off towards the guys.

“Got any news?” I asked Shane the same question that was becoming all too redundant.

He shot me a look that said, “Not since that last time you asked me.”

I sighed, “I’m sorry. It’s just here with all of you guys, he’s running around and having a good time, but when we get home it’s different. It’s…” I shook my head trying to come up with the right word, but before I could finish my thought, Gun came barreling towards us and he had something red in his hands.

“Ace said these were yours.” He held up my gloves that I barely ever wore. I was more a hand to hand fighter.

“They’re mine. Come on.” I closed the laptop and led the way to the boxing ring. I glanced over my shoulder to make certain he was behind me. Once we got to the ring, I lifted him up and he climbed under the ropes and into the ring.