My head hurt, my nose hurt and it was still oozing lots of blood. I was crying, embarrassed by the public humiliation, and my side hurt a lot. I saw Theresa looking out the window of her front door. Margaret was standing about 15 feet away, surrounded by her friends, and some of Billy's friends too, gloating over at the sad spectacle I made. She had a sneer firmly fixed on her face, enjoying herself, watching as I tried to wipe the blood off of my face. She was enjoying all my tears, and seeing the snot and blood being wiped on the sleeve of my coat.The sleeves on my coat were so short, wiping my nose only managed to get my long sleeved shirt all messed up instead. I finally started to walk over to my house, slowly climbing the stairs, and going inside. I knew my troubles were only just beginning, because I knew my Aunt would be over later to give my mom a play by play on what had happened out there. My father was a stern disciplinarian, and I had no doubt that he'd happily wade in. Where was Patrick? She couldn’t see him, she struggled against her captor as he dragged her back to the house where she’d just escaped. She was thrown through the door into the front room, Patrick landed next to her, his hands were tied again. She scrambled to her feet, seeing all the blinds were drawn and the music was up; clever of them. “You’re comin` with me bitch,” grumbled a man behind her, grabbing her hair and dragging her up the stairs. “What the FUCK are you doing?!” she screamed, trying to scratch at his hand; she couldn’t manage to. He threw her into a bedroom and she landed in the middle of the floor, Patrick was shoved against a wall, gagged and ordered to sit still. Two men stood before her, two large, muscular men. She would have thought they were handsom, had she seen them undern normal circumstances. This wasn’t normal and frankly the more time she spent with them the uglier they became. “So you escaped,” one of them said, caulking a hand gun he was.
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