The Broken Angel

Chapter 15

Chapter 15: 2 Weeks Later

Angelica's POV

It has been two weeks since we were forced to move into this Hell hole. Beck hasn't been here very much, but when he does come in, it's only to grab something, or someone, real quick and he leaves again. I don't get to see him at all, but honestly, it's been a blessing more than anything.

As expected, we're not allowed to leave the house without an armed bodyguard following behind us. They say it's for our protection, but I think it's to make sure we don't escape and run off while they aren't looking.

I have been sleeping in Wes' room, much to the other men's disagreements and suggestions to go back to my own room. But, I also found out that it's not "my" room, it's "our" room. "Our" being Beck and I. Since Beck doesn't come home at night, it wouldn't really matter much, but I don't like being away from Wes and we have been sleeping in the same room since we were little, so it's a habit I can't stop.

I have also learned all of the main group's names, and basically learned all there is to know about them. There is five of them in total; Peter, Chase, Walter, Patrick and Tony.

Chase is the tallest of bunch, at 5'9. He has curly blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He has no noticeable tattoos or scars on his body and little body hair. He likes to wear dress shirts with jeans and boat shoes. He's very loud, obnoxious, funny and mischievous.

Walter is the shortest of the bunch, at 5'6. He has short, brown hair that faded towards the back, and light green eyes. Walter had a tattoo of anchor with a "C" on his right forearm. Like Chase, he had an loud, obnoxious, funny and mischievous personality.

I also think Chase and Walter are gay/dating each other, but it's actually hard to tell. They don't make their relationship public, but they always sit next to each other, like inches apart, and I think I saw them holding hands once, but I'm not sure anymore.

Peter is 5'8 and is pretty tanned. He has long black hair on the top of his head and shaved sides. He has dark brown eyes that are so dark that you think they were black. Peter has a lot of tattoos, and the main ones I know about is the sleeve on his right arm, a giant cross on the forearm of his left arm and the quote "Never Give Up" across his upper chest.

He is the peacemaker and the optimist of the group, but can turn into a sadist, bloodthirsty monster at a moment's notice. Like no warning at all, cool and collected one moment and a wild beast the next. I noticed his sadist side came out more when he sees our scars or hears the very few stories we tell. It was easy to piece together that he can't stand men beating on women and children, especially their own, so I'm guessing he has a past similar to mine.

Tony is 5'7 with long, brown hair with blonde highlights. He has carmel brown eyes and a muscular body. Tony is quiet and very rational. He carries books around with him and he's always reading. He doesn't talk much, but when he does, he has a soft voice. But, his face speaks louder than his voice. You can always tell what he is feeling just by looking at him.

Tony had been like us at one point. Stuck in an abusive relationship with his parents, but he was able to escape them a lot sooner than we had. He said he was "lucky" and showed us his war wounds and scars from that time. I think that's why he's so quiet, but Tony never mentioned it.

Unlike Tony, Patrick was the opposite on the emotional, personality wise. While Tony spoke more with his face, Patrick spoke more with his words. His face was in the same steely expression I seen when we first met. I managed to break it a couple times, but Patrick likes to keep his feeling tucked deep down and not show them to anybody.

In the two weeks we have been here, I have gotten closer to each of them and learned more about them and their past. Of course, it was hard to get them to open up to me, but Wesley was a big help in my information gathering.

Since he couldn't go back to that gym we had found, the men had offered to train him instead, and they pushed him pretty hard. I decided it would be good to learn how to fight properly, so they have been showing me how too. We started out easy, but then it quickly progressed into some hardcore bullcrap.

Everyday, someone would teach us something, and they would never use the same person in a row. Something about keeping us on our toes and learning different ways of fighting because not everyone in the world is the same.

And today was Peter's turn. Oh, how I hated when he would come and teach us. Like I had said before, Peter is sadist. We focus less on techniques, well barely at all, and more on training the body. If it was a normal work-out, I would be fine and wouldn't care, but I want you to take a normal work-out and triple it, twice.

By the end of the day, I always want to beg him to stop and let us go but I wouldn't, couldn't, let myself fall that low. Well, that and Peter would get enjoyment out of it and make us do even more. Trust me, Wes did beg once.

And I was currently in the kitchen, cooking dinner for everyone. This had become a normal thing when they learned I knew how to cook. The men here would always burn or overcook everything, so they were all grateful when I took over for them.

I was stirring the sauce when I felt hands snake around my waist and pulled me back, against someone's body. I screamed as loud as I could, but it was cut short by a hand clamping over my mouth.

"Shhhhhh." A voice whispered in my left ear. I instantly recognized the voice hushing me, and fury filled my veins. I spun around in his arms and glared up at the man.

"You scared the crap out of me!" I hissed at Beck, who had started laughing. He didn't loosen his grip on me, which bugged me, but I was too mad to escape. "It's not funny!"

"No, it's hilarious." he laughed. I smacked his chest and turned back around to face the stove. I stirred the sauce and noodles, making sure they weren't burnt to the bottom during my little scare.

"Can you let me go now, so I can finish making my ziti?" I asked, trying to pry his hands away from my waist. His grip instead tightened around me with each time I tried to pull away or break his grip. He breathed into my ear.

"Stop moving." he whispered. I froze and my blood when cold. That was the moment my savior's walked into the kitchen. Wes, Chase and Walter walked in and froze at the sight of us, but that was what had unfrozen me.

Beck had let his guard down when they had come in, and it was long enough for me to slip out and run past the group of onlookers.

"Don't run away from me!" Beck yelled.

I looked back and yelled, "Don't touch me!" Beck ran after me, but thankfully, I was used to running away from men, so I was able to make it to our room and lock the door before he was able to catch up to me.

I had just finished locking the door and stepped back, when I heard pounding on the door and watched it rattled under the force.

"Open the damn door, Angel!" he roared.

"Not on your life!" I screeched back. The banging kept going on for a moment, but then suddenly went silent.

"Fine, don't open the door." Beck said, calmly. Deadly calm. I could feel his smile on the other side. "I'll just go hang out with Wesley." Then, I heard his boots slamming on the wooden floor as he jogged away.

He wouldn't. "Wesley!" Beck yelled, playfully. Oh, he would. I flung open the door and ran after him. I was almost at the top of the stairs when Beck had reached the bottom, and was booking it towards the kitchen. And in that moment, everything had gone wrong.

The carpet had slid out from under me and it threw off my balance. Everything happened slowly, and it was like I was thrown back in time to see my father shoving me down the stairs again. I could see the evil smirk and glint of hatred in his eyes as I fell backwards. I remembered seeing my brother's shocked and terrified face as I tried to catch myself. I remembered seeing my step-mother's shock and happy face as I hit the first step. Everything came crashing back to me.

It felt like I was reliving that moment again. A scream left my mouth, and then the pain hit.