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I realized too late that I should have went with the blinding him idea because I was shoved so hard in my lower back that I fell forward, flailing, stomach dropping. I had the foresight at the last possible moment to throw my hands out to break my fall. But my momentum was high and the impact was hard, scraping across my palms which didn't hold my weight and I went down on my forearms, crying out in agony as it felt like something snapped inside as the pavement burned and ripped the skin. The side of my face collided too, but much more gently because I instinctively locked my neck. The road scratched my cheekbone, but not bad enough to cause any real damage.
I couldn't even blink away the tears before a hand reached down and grabbed my hair at the ends and pulled so viciously that I pushed up onto my busted palms just to try to ease the searing pain in my scalp. But it was no use, because he just kept yanking as I went onto my knees, as I moved to try to stand.
"You stupid fucking cunt!" he screamed, finally releasing my hair, but only because he needed his dominant hand to swing out and collide solidly with my jaw. The impact did two things at once. One, the pain spread out from the point of impact until the throbbing ache overtook the entire left side of my face. Two, it was enough to drop me two my knees.
And, well, my knees was somewhere I didn't want to be.
I knew this when his leg cocked back then kicked forward, hitting right above my navel and knocking out my air. I doubled over, gasping uselessly, taking in nothing but the taste of my own blood from the punch from before.
My hair was grabbed again, but closer to my scalp, pulling me back onto my feet.
At this point, I was done. My face was throbbing; my stomach was aching; my forearms and palms were burning and bleeding and I was just... done. He pulled and I went with him.
"I ought to slit your fucking throat for that you stupid cow," he roared as he pulled me across a lot. It was then I realized where he was taking me. Before me, a long, wide, windowless metal structure loomed at me, a perfect kind of irony. I wanted to know what was inside. I guess I would be figuring that out after all. "Maybe once the boss finds out what you got to say, I'll get the privilege of killing your ass. But not before making you wish you were dead first," he said, giving me a once over as we stopped outside the warehouse door.
I felt my stomach clench hard, knowing what he meant, knowing that he would take a sick amount of pleasure in beating and raping me before putting me out of my misery.
I swallowed hard, proud that my eyes were dry, knowing that while I was absolutely weaker than he was, that at least I wasn't looking that way.
"Is your chosen form of torture talking 'cause, let me tell you, I'd certainly take death over this."
D's fist banged on the metal door three times, the sound loud enough for me to shrink away from it. "You're going to regret this," he promised as the door pulled open, revealing the other guy from that night nine days ago. Trick. Paine had called him Trick and he was the one with more of a brain. I wondered if that worked for, or against, my favor.
"The fuck'd you do to her face?" he asked, looking down. "And her arms?"
"Bitch hit me with a fucking padlock. The fuck was I supposed to do, let her get away with it?"
Trick sighed heavily, like he'd hit his limit at having to put up with D's shenanigans. "I'll call the boss," Trick said, moving out of the way of the doorway so we could, presumably, enter. I was given very little choice because I was shoved forward with two hands to my back, making me trip over my own feet. I managed to stay upright somehow and Trick's hand reached out to steady me. "Ease up," he said over my shoulder toward D.
The smell hit me first. It wasn't something I could place, but it was chemical, unnatural. It made my nose burn to breathe it in. The air inside the warehouse was hot, stiflingly so. I felt sweat already start to bead up on my scalp as I heard the door slam behind me. My eyes quickly found the sources of the heat and humidity, locating long, low work tables in four rows down the center of the room. People stood almost shoulder-to-shoulder. Some were doing some sort of grinding, others stirring, but also some... cooking things. As in over fires. Small ones. With beakers over them. Like in science class.
