Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Chapter Eight

Magdalena

Sascha studies me curiously while I remain seated on the chair without making a single movement. She suddenly rises from the chair she's seated on, startling me. She claps her hands together.

"So, what do I call a pretty little thing like you?" She asks me, slowly but confidently approaching me. I don't respond, I figure she'll do whatever she wants with me whether I respond or not. "Not very talkative, are we?" She pouts at me. "I'll just come up with a name then. I do, however, need your age." She takes a strand of my hair and twirls it around her finger. "I think I'll call you Rapunzel, we can always add some extensions to your hair." She looks satisfied with herself for coming up with that idea. "How old are you, Rapunzel?" she looks me straight in the eyes, but I refuse to play a part in whatever game she is trying to play. "Look, I know that this is probably a very scary situation. You're far from home, your parents are probably also missing you terribly, but this whole ordeal is going to be a lot easier for you if you cooperate and answer when spoken to." I stare back at her, what ordeal is she on about? The kidnapping or something else? I spot a camera on a table in the back of the room. I wonder what that's for. "So, I'll ask you one more time. How old are you, Rapunzel?" Her tone dropped a bit, she clearly doesn't like asking anything more than once. I decide to stay strong and not respond. Before I even register a change in her demeanor, she backhands me with the power of Jesus himself. My hand flies to my cheek in an attempt to soothe the stinging. I don't really know what I expected to happen, but damn. I think I taste a little bit of blood in my mouth.

"I guess we'll do this the hard way then." She looks at the two guys waiting by the chair she was sitting on before. "Remove her clothes, we'll guess her age from the development of her body." What the fuck? Hell no. I get up and move to use the chair as a weapon, but it's no use against the two big oafs. They rip my clothes to shreds while I fight them the entire time to no avail. As soon as I'm down to my underwear, Sascha grabs the camera and takes a few photos. I try to cover myself, but the two dickheads hold my arms away.

"All right, this will do. My guess is you're in your early twenties, we'll just put down your age as twenty." She scribbles something down on the phone she retrieves from her pocket. "And done. We'll see how much they bid on you when the auction starts later this week." Auction? Are they fucking selling me online? She sends me a satisfied smile and tells the oafs to escort me back to where I was retrieved from. They push open the door and throw me back in. I land on the floor yet again. This time I'm not crying, I actually feel kind of numb. I feel violated and exposed, and now I'm back to being in a room with four men who I don't really know. I carefully get to my feet and return to what I've deemed 'my spot'. I try to cover myself as well as I can. I feel absolutely drained, all the anxiety and fear takes a toll on me, as I expected it eventually would, but there is no way in hell I'll close my eyes. I don't think any of us can afford to be caught off guard. I sneak a glance at the others, my eyes lingering a bit longer on Nico. Fuck, they took the jacket. I attempt to clear my throat, but it comes out as a pathetic squeak instead, my body is too shaky to do what I need it to do.

"I lost your jacket," Lena you idiot, you didn't lose it!, "I mean, they took your jacket. I'm really sorry." My jaw quivers as I try to speak clearly. His eyes soften and the corner of his mouth tilts up a bit. I hope that means forgiveness. He looks towards Isaac for help and he takes the queue.

"What Nico is trying to say is, fuck the damn jacket. Are you all right, love?" I furrow my brows at his question. I didn't expect him to sound so genuinely concerned. The others look equally curious about by well-being. I ponder the question for a bit, and feel at a loss for words to describe how I currently feel.

"Please don't make me answer that question, I'll just end up crying myself to death. Then again, it might be the most comfortable way to go after what happened in the other room." I shoot Isaac a tight smile, hoping he doesn't feel disrespected by my answer. He returns my smile.