They pushed her into a room. A room full of other girls. Most of them looked to be about her age, but all of them were between fourteen and eighteen, she was sure. She fell to the ground where they pushed her, down on her knees in the middle of the room. Most of the other girls were in the shadows, pressing themselves into corners or against the walls in what seemed to be a desperate attempt to hide.

But she was done caring. She had been hit and slapped and pushed around, even thrown into a shelf at the gas station, and she was too tired and in too much pain to really care about anything else anymore. She curled her knees beneath her and doubled over, wondering when or if the pain in her lower abdomen would ever subside. She glanced at the girls around her, but it quickly became apparent that none of them were in a friendly, compassionate mood. They all seemed to hope that she would stay in the middle of the room and far from them.

They waited. For what seemed like hours. She cursed herself for having forgotten to put on her watch that morning, wondering just how long it had been since her kidnapping. Did the cops know? Were they looking for her? Had they looked at the surveillance camera in the gas station? Had the camera even been in working condition? And if the authorities had found out about the murders and the kidnapping, had they notified her parents yet? Did they know that their little girl, their only daughter, had been taken from them?

She knew what this was; she knew exactly why she and the other girls were here. But when would they leave or be moved? Would they be taken away in groups or one at a time? Part of her hoped that at least one other girl would be taken with her if she was moved, but another part of her found no solace or comfort in the other girls' presence there with her.

She sighed and dropped her head to look down at her arms. It was dim in the room, too dark to see whether there were bruises. It sure felt like there were bruises. But she was lost from her pondering when the only door into the room burst open. All of the girls around her seemed to be pressing themselves into corners and shrinking back into the shadows as much as they could, and they all looked down. Most of them tilted their heads so that their hair would cover their faces.

She was the only one who looked up and watched the men that filed in. There were three of them. Two of them she recognized as having been part of the group who came to the gas station, and the other one had a face she'd never seen before.

The two men she had seen before spread their arms as if showing off the contents of the room. "Take your pick," one of them said.

The unfamiliar man let his eyes sweep across the room, but his gaze came to rest on her. He looked into her eyes and his expression changed; she was sure he was trying to intimidate her. In truth, she was scared as hell. But she didn't let him see that. She glared right back at him, silently declaring that she would not cower before him. He stared at her for a few moments more, licking his lips. "That one," he said, jerking his chin her way.

One of the men who had grabbed her earlier in the gas station moved to her side and grasped her upper arm in an iron-hard grip. He yanked her to her feet and pushed her over to the unfamiliar man who had chosen her. Her arm hurt where the man had grabbed it, but she held her head high and walked on her own instead of letting him drag her along with him. The unfamiliar man slapped a wad of cash into one of the familiar men's hands and grabbed her shoulder. He looked her up and down, nodded, and grinned. She stared right back, silent but strong.

He shoved her along in front of him, and they left the building. She was forced into a car and pushed into the back seat. The man who she realized now owned her slid into the driver's seat and locked the doors. Then he hit the gas and they went pealing out of the drive. She would have tried to unlock the door and throw herself out of it, but she was too afraid of getting thrown about inside the car, so she took two broken seatbelts from either side of her and tied them together to hold her in her seat. Then she reached out, grabbing what she could to brace herself as they careened around corners and came to a screeching halt.

The insane driving continued for another hour, which she knew by the clock on the stereo system. Then the man driving slammed the brakes and they skidded to a stop in front of yet another large building. By now it was around midnight, and it was too dark for her to see anything but the massive building looming over them as he pushed her up the steps and through the large front door. He pushed her up several flights of stairs, down multiple hallways, and through plenty of doors before they came to a stop in front of one door that seemed utterly average and was nothing different than the other doors they'd come through so far.

The man knocked, and there was a muffled, "Come in," yelled from somewhere inside. Her owner turned the knob and pushed her through the door, closing it behind him.

It was dimly lit in the room, but lighter than the room she had been in with the other girls. She noticed the figure of a man leaning against the wall opposite the door she'd just come through, but he was covered by the shadows and she couldn't see his face or any of his features. There was a fan built high into the wall behind him, and light from street lamps managed to leak in through the slow-turning wings on it. But the light fell on her and not on the new mystery man. She was standing in the middle of the room and in the shafts of light that made it past the fan. She knew that the shadow of a man could clearly see her features, while she could see none of his.

She tensed when he said, "The fuck took you so long?"

She knew he wasn't talking to her, and she waited for the man behind her to speak. "Traffic," was all he said.

"Yeah," the man in the shadows hissed. "You sure you didn't stop on the side of the road to test her out before you got here?"

"I-I swear," the man behind her said haltingly. He sounded genuinely terrified of the man in the shadows.

The man only grunted in response. Then he stepped closer to her, though he was still enveloped in darkness and his face wasn't close enough for her to see clearly. "Why'd you pick this one?" he asked.

The man who had bought her guffawed. "She's beautiful."

"Obviously, you fucking numbskull," the man in the darkness growled. "They only have good-looking ones. There's another reason you chose this one."

"She has fire in her," the man behind her said, "She's defiant and held her head high, and you know how the rest of them look; they hide and cower in the shadows. This one was sitting in the middle of the room, right where I could see her. She's a fighter."

She hated being talked about like this when she was standing right there with them, as if she was a slave. But then she realized that she was a slave, and that she had just been bought. Her mouth went dry, but she licked her lips, calling the liquid back to her tongue.

She kept her head held high and stared straight at the man in the shadows, even when he took another step forward. He was close enough for her to make out the basics of his facial features, but the light was behind him and his face was masked in shadows still. She tensed, but didn't flinch away, when he lifted a hand and gripped her chin. He leaned back, allowing the light to fall on her face as he tightened his grip and tilted her head back and from one side to the other, getting a good look at her features. Unbidden, words rolled off her tongue at the way she knew he was looking at her. "Like what you see?" she asked hotly.

He seemed surprised that she had spoken, and with such vigor. "Yeah, I do," he said, leaning closer to her. "He was right, sweetheart; you are a fighter."

He released her chin and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, and his smile glinted at her through the dark when she lifted her chin in response to his touch. "I like this one," he said, and though his eyes never left her face, she knew he was talking to the man behind her. Then he moved, walking in a slow circle around her. She knew he was looking her up and down, and even though she knew he was deciding whether he wanted her, she stood straight and didn't pretend to have anything physically wrong with her.

He stared, and she stared right back. He glared, and she glared right back. He frowned, but her expression remained set in a defiant grimace. She knew what he was trying to do; he was trying to intimidate her and to make her fear him. Perhaps even trying to make her hate him. But she refused to give him that satisfaction. He smiled again, reaching out and grabbing her arm in the same place the other men had grabbed her earlier. She gritted her teeth when he turned her around and walked her past the man who had bought her. He tossed a wad of cash to her previous owner as they passed by and then steered her down the hallway. The few dim lights that they passed flickered and threatened to go out and leave them in complete darkness. He pushed her up another flight of stairs and then down a long hall, and then they stopped in front of another door, this one looking nicer and larger than the one that led to the room where she had just been purchased once more.

She tensed when the man leaned down and she felt his hot breath on her ear. "Open it," he said.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, opening them as she reached out to turn the knob and pushed the door open. But none of the things she had prepared herself for were waiting when he pushed her inside and closed the door behind them, locking it. Then he released her arm and stepped into the middle of the room in front of her. "Take a good look," he said, spreading his arms and proudly showing off the place, "at your new home."

And she did. She looked around, taking in every detail. The carpet, walls, and ceiling were all dark red, as were the thick curtains that hid the only window in the place from view. A dresser was in the corner opposite her and to her right, and a closet door stood open beside it. The window was in the wall between the dresser and a queen-size bed in the corner opposite her and to her left. There was a pile of sheets and blankets that lay on top of the mattress, having obviously never been made. There was a desk against the wall to her left, and to her right, a door stood open. A quick glance revealed a sink beyond the door, and she assumed that it was a bathroom. The carpet was scattered with small bits of paper, wrappers, and cigarette butts. An old ceiling fan turned lazily above his head, rocking back and forth as it did.

"Mm, charming," she said sarcastically when she had finished looking.

Her gaze ran along the floor until she found his lace-up boots, and she let her eyes rise from there. He was wearing dark blue jeans, a darker shirt with obscenities printed on it, and a leather jacket. A silver belt buckle was half-visible beneath the hem of his shirt. He had black curls of flame tattooed from somewhere on his chest or shoulder beneath his shirt. The flames curled up both sides of his neck and behind his ears. She could finally see his face. He'd shaved his head, so she couldn't tell what color his hair was aside from that which grew on his face. He had a brunette mustache and a beard, though it was only scruff and could hardly be called a goatee. Dark eyebrows frowned at her. He had a nice, normal-sized nose, and several scars on his face and neck. And he had stunning green eyes. She hated herself for liking his eyes, but the different colors and shades that people's eyes could be had always fascinated her, and his were beautiful. Then she realized that he'd seen her looking him over.

"Like what you see?" he mocked her earlier question.

She laughed, and it was obvious by her expression that the answer to his question was no.

He stepped closer to her and said, "Because I do."

"Oh," she said, leaning away from him, "You're attracted to yourself. What a stunning quality in a man."

He closed the space between them, and she took an involuntary step back. Her back hit the door and she knew that she had no escape. He stepped closer again, so close that if he moved forward he'd be stepping on her toes. Then he leaned in until their faces were inches apart, his breath hot on her face. "I don't believe we've been introduced," he said.

"We haven't," she returned without any fear or tremor in her voice at all.

"I'm Billy. Billy Darley. And you are?"

"Tyler," she said quietly but firmly.

"Your last name?" he asked.

She hated to tell him, but her family lived so far away that she was sure they were safe. And the look in his eyes said that if she didn't tell him, she would have more than her family's safety to be worried about. "Williams," she said just as quietly, but just as steadily, as before.

"What's your middle name?"

"Suzanne," she breathed; he was leaning closer as they spoke.

"Tyler Suzanne Williams," he purred. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. How old are you, sweetheart?"

"Fifteen," she said as calmly as if they had been discussing the time or the weather.

"Mm," he sounded like he was about to sink his teeth into an especially delicious meal. "So young. I'm twenty-two."

She said nothing.

"We're going to have a lot of fun, you and me," he said.

"Oh, I'm sure," she said, her gaze never leaving his.

He stared at her for a few moments and then he quirked an eyebrow and said, "Virgin."

"Maybe," she said.

He laughed cruelly. "Well, not after tonight, you won't be. And there'll be no 'maybe' about it."

She took a deep breath. "Go to hell," she said through clenched teeth.

"Oh, I know I'm going down there, sweetheart," he said. Then his eyes shone maliciously and he said, "And I intend to take you with me."

She continued to stare dauntlessly into his eyes. "Fuck you."

"Ooh, she knows how to swear," he said, sounding pleased. "I can't wait to hear the things that come out of your mouth in a little while when I have my way with you."

She exhaled loudly through her nose, a half-snort intended to sound like an unimpressed laugh.

"You aren't afraid," he said. It wasn't a question.

She gave a half-shrug and tilted her head to the side as she did.

"You should be," he said suddenly, and his hands were on her shoulders and he had her pressed against the door. He was pressing with more than his hands, as his body was against hers now.

Before he could lean his head in any closer, she growled, "Maybe I should be afraid, but I'm not."

He laughed. "You will be."

He had her pinned against the door with his body, and he let go with his hands to shrug out of his leather jacket. Then he pulled off his shirt, grinding his hips against hers as he did.

Her eyes trailed momentarily down his chest and stomach, taking in his muscular torso for a moment and then returning to his face. The curls of flame on his neck spread across his collar bone and down both of his shoulders, spanning his entire arms all of the way to his wrists. Her breath left her lungs in surprise when he pulled back suddenly, taking her with him so that she had her back to the corner where the bed was. Then he pushed her slowly backwards towards it. He still had ahold of her shoulders, and she kept expecting the mattress to hit the back of her knees. But just before it did Billy turned them around so that his back was to the bed and he sat down on the edge of it in the same instant. He jerked her towards him and she was surprised and thrown off balance, and in her moment of confusion he pulled her onto his lap so that she was straddling his waist.

Now she was truly afraid. She expected him to tear off her clothes at any moment.

But he only laughed. He reached up, trailing a finger down the side of her face as he spoke. "Fucking beautiful as you are, and as much as I'd love to fuck you now," he said, "You're my long term pet, sweetheart. I can't have you getting pregnant. That, and I'm tired tonight. But I'll be sure and save some energy for tomorrow."

He watched her reaction with disinterest, though he seemed pleased by her fearful expression. "You're mine now," he said after a moment of watching her.

He trailed his fingers from her hairline to her chin, cupping her cheek with his hand. His other hand slithered up behind her head to bring her in and keep her from pulling away, and he kissed her, hard. As much as she hated him, it was the kind of kiss that made her want more. But she turned her head and wiped her lips as soon as he would allow her to pull away. His kiss tasted like a mixture of mint and cigarettes. The mint she didn't mind at all, but the cigarette taste and smell made her want to gag.

"I'll bring back some stuff tomorrow," he said. "Besides, you smell like the fucking trafficking place. You'll need to shower and clean up before I fuck you." He smiled and added, "But after tomorrow, you'll be mine. All mine. And I'll have you every night and I won't need anyone else to please me." He stroked her hair, causing shivers to run down her spine.

She took a shaky breath, wishing the fear that had tightened around her heart would loosen its grip.

He laughed at her reaction to his words and pushed her off of his lap and onto her feet. Once he had her there, he said, "You won't be too comfortable sleeping in those clothes. Why not slip out of them?"

Tyler stood perfectly still. She wasn't getting naked for him until she absolutely had to. And not until her only other option was losing her life.

He smirked at her defiance and stood up quickly, his chest suddenly pressing against hers. But he slipped past her and walked to the closet, where he looked around for a moment before returning with something in his hands. He threw it at her and she caught it and looked down. She was holding a pair of short running shorts.

Sighing, she started to walk towards the bathroom, intending to change there. But Billy's arm was suddenly in front of her, barring her way. "There's no need to be modest," he said, grinning at her deviously, "I'll see it all later."

She gave him a defiant look, but walked over to the wall near the bed and kicked off her shoes. She unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, stepped out of them, and pulled on the shorts. They fit her well, and she sighed, feeling self-conscious standing there with Billy looking at her.

He took off his own shoes and pants and shook out a blanket that was lying on the mattress. He threw the rest of sheets and blankets on the floor at the end of the bed and slid into bed. Then he turned and looked at her. He patted the mattress beside him. He had turned off the only light in the room before he got into bed, and the only thing keeping it dimly lit now was the light that came through the crack between the curtains on the window.

Tyler would have loved to sleep on the floor in the corner farthest from him, but the look on his face told her that it would be unwise to walk away from him now. So she sighed and slid into bed beside him.

"Good girl," he crooned from beside her.

She ignored him and turned onto her side so that she was facing away from him. She tensed and started in surprise when his arm hooked around her and he pulled her closer until he was pressed against her from behind.

She hoped and prayed that he wouldn't notice her trembling, but he did.

"Relax," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, "The fun doesn't start until tomorrow night."

She said nothing and tried to picture herself back in her own bed at her parents' house. It was strangely hard to remember exactly what everything in her room had looked like when she'd left it. She glanced at the clock that sat on the desk. Great, she was just getting to sleep at three in the morning. She wondered absently what time Billy would wake up in the morning. And would he wake her as soon as he had? A shiver ran the length of her spine as Billy buried his face in her hair and the tip of his nose touched the back of her neck.

She slid away from him a bit and started to sit up. But his arm was locked around her waist, and he wouldn't let her get up. "God," she hissed without turning to look at him, "I'm not going to try and escape or sleep on the floor or something. You're the one who needs to relax."

"What are you doing?" was his only response, and he growled it through his teeth.

Now she turned and looked at him, her face the picture of annoyance. Then her expression changed to one of mock pleading and she said irritably, "May I sit up and put my hair in a bun? I always sleep with it up because if it's down I get sweaty. You don't want that, do you?"

He said nothing, but he loosened his grip on her waist and allowed her to sit up. As she did, his hand moved to her thigh. She took a deep breath, resisting the urge to swat his hand away or move it to her lower thigh and closer to her knee. But she managed to ignore him for a moment and she used one of the hairbands that she always had on her wrist to tie her hair in a loose bun on top of her head. Prolonging the moment when she would have to lie back down against him, she pulled her knees up to her chest and scratched her leg. When she pulled up her knees Billy let his hand slide off of her leg, and she felt a wave of relief when he did. But after another moment she knew that she needed to lie down or he would get angry.

So she did. But she was hardly graceful, letting herself fall back onto the mattress rather unceremoniously. She stretched out her legs and lay there on her back, trying to savor the precious few seconds she had before Billy reached out to pull her in or touch her again. But he didn't.

She had been staring at the ceiling, but she turned her head to look at him. He was lying on his side, watching her. She dropped her gaze and looked at the ceiling again; she wasn't in the mood to have a staring contest with him at the moment. Part of her was afraid that she might not be able to sleep, and that worried her because she knew how tired she'd be the next day. But another part of her was afraid of falling asleep, lest Billy decide to do something unexpected while she wasn't keeping an eye on him. She was just drifting off when he spoke, and she started to wake up again.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he purred, sounding perfectly awake.

She didn't wake up all of the way. Half asleep, she muttered, "Fuck you," and turned onto her side so she wasn't facing him.

She fell back asleep then, and she didn't see the amused smile that twisted the corners of his lips in response to what she said.

Hey there! This is my first Death Sentence story, so if you have any suggestions or ideas to help me keep Billy in character, please let me know. I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter, and if you have any corrections or comments those are always welcome. Thank you so much for reading! ~Taelr