Warning: This story contains violence and rape. Not for the faint of heart. I do by no means condone any of what is depicted in this story. Anyways, enjoy...? Let me know what you think.

I take to the streets. It's late, and most of the houses are dark and quiet, which makes it easy to hear the howl of laughter from the party I left. Smoke stench stains my shirt and half a solo cup's worth of alcohol some kid spilled on me soaks my left sandal. My brother is too drunk to drive, and I'm too young to drive, so I'm stranded in this random small neighborhood, in the middle of the night.

I don't like parties, but I told Jesse I would come, and he was so excited to see me "emerging from my shell" or some stupid shit like that. It actually seems kind of dumb, that getting me out of my shell would be taking me to a college party where everyone is more than four years older than me, but hey, whatever works, right? He wanted this group of lesbians he knows to meet me, because he thinks that I'll get along with them, not because I'm a lesbian, but because I'm trans, and I guess that has to count for something in his mind.

I love Jesse, but he keeps trying to throw me into all these situations I don't want to be in. I think he thinks that getting me out of the house will somehow, miraculously cure me of grief, but it doesn't. Besides, I'm not really grieving, I hate to admit it, and I wouldn't to anyone, but I don't really care that dad died. I don't really care about anything.

I care about turning sixteen so the doctor at Children's will prescribe me hormones. And maybe driving, driving sounds good. Especially for situations like this, so I could just go home.

But low and behold, I'm not home. I'm in this shitty half built neighborhood in the middle of the shittiest part of our town, with a bunch of shitty, drunk college kids, and I have found myself wishing I could walk out of here, and just keep walking.

Maybe I'd be like Chris McCandless, and change my name and travel the country. It would be fun for a while, but hopefully I wouldn't die of starvation in the middle of the Alaskan wild. That probably wasn't that fun. But maybe if I traveled the country, I'd go to L.A. and see the hollywood sign. I don't like L.A because it has too much smog and you can't see the stars at night, but I really want to see the hollywood sign. After that, I might go to northern California and just explore the wild until I run out of food, and then maybe I'd go and try and get a job. Maybe by then, I'd be old enough to get a job.

I won't keep walking though, because despite how much I just want to leave everything behind, I can't. And bonus, there's only three finished homes in this neighborhood, which leaves at least three or four for me to explore.

There's a certain excitement to exploring unfinished houses. You feel like you're behind the scenes. Or you get to see the guts of the house, before the cement is filled, and the dry wall is placed, and the people start moving in. The people are the worst part about the house. I like people, but it's hard to know if they're gonna be good people. And there's not many good people around anymore.

I walk up the hill to the right of the party and go into the first unfinished house. I grip on to wood columns and spin around them like I'm a show-off dancer in a scandalous musical, maybe Chicago, or something like that. I count how many screws are just laying around on the plywood floor, and try to figure out which room is the master, and the bathroom, and where the stairs will go when they make them.

Headlights make me freeze in my tracks. Fortunately, just a car passing by. It goes up the hill and around the corner.

What really jolts me is my phone ringing in my pocket. I almost drop it into a little pothole in the ground between the wood foundations. It's Jesse.

"heyyy..." I can barely hear him, but his voice sounds like the gargle of a sewer drain, and I can just picture him leaning over the way he does when he's drunk. It's funny, his drunk stature is like a leaning jenga tower about to fall. The sentiment almost makes me laugh out loud.

"Hi." I reply.

"hey where you at?" He sighs loudly at the end of the sentence. He's trashed.

"Just exploring the neighborhood. Don't worry, I'll be around. Just call me when you're sober enough to drive." I say.

"ohr...okay. Well, Kayla an Amy jus got here. Do you still wanna meet them?"

"I'm good, Jesse. Thanks."

"Ok. Be ssafe."

"Okie dokie."

"Love youuuuuu Blakey."

"I love you too, Jesse." My phone vibrates twice to indicate the call has ended.

I sit in the silence that proceeds, hearing the distant roar of engines on the nearby highway, and cluster of several voices from the party, and bass boosted rap music in their speakers. I don't know the song, but I pretend I do, and make up lyrics that somewhat accompany the beat in my head.

I pull out my phone again, and the bright light illuminates me in the dark of the unfinished house. I wonder who will live here. Will they have kids? Will their kids be a boy and a girl who isn't really a girl? Will the mother die giving birth to the 'girl' and the father die in a car accident? Or perhaps, maybe they'll just have two boys, and neither of them will die, and they'll sit in their living room on Tuesday nights, playing monopoly and making fun of House Hunters international. Maybe they'll have one kid, a girl, who is really a girl, and likes being a girl, and maybe she likes pink and watches Vampire Diaries every weekend with her other girl-friends.

I decide I've had enough of this house, and head for the other one. The other one, is nicer, and the stairs have been built. I'm kinda afraid of unfinished house stairs though, so I stay downstairs, and explore all the rooms there. There's a pretty big room, which I think is probably the master, and three other bedrooms downstairs. That's a lot of bedrooms. Maybe the people who will move into this house will have three kids, and they'll play monopoly and watch House Hunters on Tuesday nights in the loft.

My phone rings again. It's Jesse, again.

"heyr." He's so drunk, all of his words are slurred. "I migh jus cras here tonigh. Do you wan an uber?" Figures.

"Um...Sure."

"Coorl, head back sor I can call you one."

"On my way." I hang up the call. The walls in this house are already placed with thin plywood, so I am not able to see around the corner, to which I turn and am met by a man in dark clothes standing, staring at me. It's too dark to see his face. I only manage to back up a few feet, before I back into another man, who grabs me. I throw my elbow back, and it connects with his stomach, making him groan and let go of me. I bolt to the only option available: upstairs. There's two rooms, that are just in the beginning stages of being built. No walls to hide behind. I choose the right one, and stop short of the edge, where there's no bearing, just beams about 5 feet apart meeting the unfinished roof above them. I scan the edge to see if it's too high to jump. I hear footsteps clamber up the wood stairs. No time, the only option is to jump. I bend my legs and prepare to leap, but midair, someone's arms reach around me and pull me the opposite way. I fall hard, the wind knocked out of me. The man who just caught me, straddles me quickly and takes a large, serrated knife out of his pocket, threatening me with it. The other man, lumbers up the stairs, just watching us.

"Come with us, and I won't have to hurt you." The one on top of me says. I can barely make out his face now. His eyes are a dark color, maybe brown, or hazel, and his hair is dark brown, and dangling in front of his face. On my left, I can make out their car parked in front of the house. A black SUV, with a giant scratch on the side. The brunette on top of me gets up slowly, still aiming the knife at me. "Come on." He demands. I notice the towel in the other man's right hand, which he was probably going to use to chloroform me. I slowly stand, planning an escape. I want to wonder, why me, but I only have time to plan how I'm just gonna get out of this situation. This doesn't seem random, like would be expected in this part of town. It seems calculated.

We head downstairs, the man with the towel behind me, and brunette in front of me. As soon as we hit the bottom, I bolt to the left, running into the master bedroom, and attempting to scale the window. The brunette catches me just short of the window, and holds on to me tightly.

"I'm faster than you, kid." He says. "Travis, sedate him." I squirm in fear as I see the other, blonde guy, approach with the towel raised. I try to resist the man, but I can't, he's too strong. The blonde guy pushes the towel to my face, and I inhale a suffocating amount of windex smell, and sweetness? I didn't expect chloroform to taste like that. It also takes way longer than I expected for it to knock me out as well. Which is both awkward, and terrifying.

My head is pounding when I wake up, probably from dehydration, or the chloroform, or both. I try to register my surroundings but even slightly moving my head causes pain to surge to all sides of it. As I gain baring, and the headache starts to dull, I notice that it's daytime out, I have a gag in my mouth, I'm sitting on a desk chair and my hands are tied behind me.

Around me, I can see that it's some kind of car garage. The disorientation is so bad though, that everything in the room continues to spin as I try to make it out.

"He's awake." I hear someone say. I now just notice as the blonde guy, or Travis, who seems to tilt from side to side in my vertigo blasted vision is sitting in a chair right in front of me. Now that I can make him out in the light, I see that he's got dirty blonde hair, green eyes, and he's probably somewhere in his twenties. Actually, I want to say that his eyes are green, but my vision is still spinning and I can barely focus on his eyes at all. "Hey buddy." He says. His hand comes to meet the left side of my jaw and I shiver, a violating chill jolting down my spine. He finds this amusing though, and chuckles lightly. "Do you want some water?"

I don't answer his question though because suddenly, as the disorientation starts to wear off, I realize how fucked up of a situation I am in, and that it's not daytime, there's just a bunch of really bright lights around me and that I have been kidnapped. In the panic that transpires after this realization I end up falling back, and hitting my head on the concrete of the floor, which seems to knock me out for an indeterminate amount of time.

I wake up to see the brunette merely inches from my face. He has glasses on now, that are large and square, but almost make him look more attractive and I see that his eyes are this very deep shade of amber. Is it weird to call your kidnappers attractive, or just honest?

"Hello again." He says, in the most unsettling tone. It's a tone that has both a sadistic and condescending side to it. I don't reply. I just stare at him. "So," He raises his right hand. "We weren't aware of this." Suddenly his hand is diving down my shorts and into my boxers. I squirm and let out the most embarrassing whimper in protest. In response to this, he laughs, and takes his hand out, returning it to his side. He then kneels, so he's eye level with me, and places his hands on my knees, as a sort of arm rest. "And it sure wasn't what we were expecting." I feel myself visibly trembling, unable to forget the feeling of his hand down my pants. "You see, we only need boys, so what are we supposed to do with you?" I just stare at him. I know that was a rhetorical question, but he seems like he actually wants an answer. And of course, of course I've been kidnapped by human traffickers. The combination of me being terribly violated by what he just did, and his piercing eye contact, makes me have to avert my eyes. He leans back, sighing, and just staring at me. I notice Travis on the phone behind him. He's not talking though, so I can assume whoever he's calling hasn't picked up yet. In the midst of my aversion of eye contact, I notice a toolbox full of various objects. There's really only things like screws, and nuts, and bolts in it, but I spot a wrench bar, and a screw driver. I try not to make it obvious that I'm looking over that way.

Glasses stands and leans over me, going to untie my wrists. After what he just did, even his hands on my hands to untie them makes me feel a wave of panic. After untying my wrists, he leans back again, and turns, grabbing a bottle of water from behind him. I rub the sore spots on my wrist from where the rope dug into them. He offers the water to me.

"You must be dehydrated. Drink." I take the water. In a moment of stupid, impulsive bravery, I immediately grip the water and chuck it, kicking my feet out, and connecting with his torso. He falls back, and I leap out of my seat, bolting for the box of tools. I manage to grab the wrench bar in time and turn, swinging it, and watching it crash into the side of his face. This makes him fall to the ground and I scan the room for an exit, quickly. I see one, and bolt as Travis drops the phone and runs towards me. I head for the door, so focused on getting there, I don't notice Glasses grab my ankle, which causes me to fall forward and land hard dropping the wrench and slamming my arms on the concrete ground. This gives Travis enough leverage to catch up with me. I swivel my body onto my back attempting to defend myself, but Travis comes down hard on me, pinning my body down heavily by straddling me fast. I instinctively place my hands on his chest, trying to push at him, but he's way too strong for me. Before I can attempt to reach for the wrench bar, Glasses is back up, picking it up, and wiping his own blood off it onto his pants. He laughs and kneels down over me.

"Nice one, kid." He says, panting hard, and wincing the pain off his busted cheek. I can already see the bruise swelling, and the blood cakes his left cheek. His left eye is forcibly squinted from the pain and swelling and I notice now that my own arms are caked in blood, and my elbows are destroyed from the fall. My adrenaline still numbs the pain, though. "How should I punish you?" He asks himself out loud as he twirls the wrench bar in his hand. In a moment of anger, I spit at him. Travis laughs.

"Damn, she's fucking feisty." He says. Brunette takes off his glasses and wipes the spit off them with his shirt. He places them back on, and stands again.

"Yeah, but I know how to break her in a bit." He says. "Lean her up against the wall." He commands. I can't tell if he's the leader, or Travis just isn't very authoritative, but Travis gets off me, and forces me into a sitting position, against the wall, as asked. "Take off her shorts." He says. Hearing this, I immediately try to struggle again, but Travis' hand connects with my neck and he wraps his fingers around my throat. I try to grab his hand and pry it off my neck, but Glasses grabs my hands forcing them behind my back, and into a zip tie. Him and Travis grip my shorts forcing them down to my ankles. Glasses grabs them and pulls them completely off me, throwing them behind him. I continue to struggle, as Travis takes his hand off my throat and sits back as Glasses himself looms over me, forcing my boxers to my ankles. I try to head-butt him, but my head connects with his shoulder instead and he slams me back against the wall violently. I hit my head and cry out in pain and he jams his knees between my legs and spreads them apart as wide as he can. I then feel his lips against my ear.

"I want to hear you scream." He whispers. I feel like it's counter-intuitive to do what he says, but his words, his actions cause me to do the only thing I can at this point.

"No! Please! I'm sorry! Please! Please!" I beg. Glasses reaches behind himself and grabs the wrench bar off the ground. I spot Travis watching with sick anticipation.

Suddenly I'm in the most pain I've ever been in and it's all coming from the wrench bar being thrust between my legs, as I feel everything tear inside me. I continue to beg, but Brunette doesn't care. He doesn't even mind the blood streaming from his busted cheek as he starts to pump this metal rod in and out of me, until a God I don't believe in spares me with unconsciousness.