"How'd you get stuck in this class?" I slump next to a kid on the floor.

"It's required."

I gasp dramatically. "Physical Education is actually required at this school?"

He not so subtly moves away from me. He's probably heard some stuff about me. Who else could be the new girl with no style? I mean I may have mistaken a teacher as a student and that didn't go well. There was also the lunch situation (nothing major) but I simply took too much food (like that is a crime?).

"Hey! My fellow senior and also the only other senior in this underclassmen class, you and I are meant to be. Us seniors stick together, like two peas in a pod." I grin.

I think my grin scares him. I watch as he gets up and rushed away from me. Was I too strong? I cannot help some people can't handle me.

"I'll see you later!" I wave enthusiastically.

Then, I sit there and twiddle my thumbs for a good minute. I don't know what to do, or what I am supposed to do. Is PE supposed to be fun or something?

At Elite, PE wasn't required, but it was highly recommended every student participated in some sort of physical activity. I never took PE in my life.

I glance around the gymnasium, which is pretty nice. The uniforms they make us wear are not too shabby. We all wear black basketball shorts with the option of black trackpants and a gray shirt with the school name and PE written on it. It could be worse.

I'm a little lonely now that my senior friend has abandoned me. The rest of the class consists of lowly freshmen. Today the sport everyone is playing is volleyball.

After sitting on the floor twiddling my thumbs for quite a long time, i stand up and decide I'm going to leave.

I walk out through the gym doors, and people seem too busy to notice.

As I head to the girl's locker room, I begin to realize how empty the hallway is. I quicken my steps as I feel some paranoia seeping in. Changing into my clothes in a rush, I continue to feel like someone is watching me.

I take out my knives and hide them under my sleeves in case I need them.

I amble my way over to the office: I want to change my class schedule to how I want it, not how my brothers want it.

I'm trying not to look over my shoulder, but it's difficult.

"Hi. Can I get a school ID and class schedule change?" I ask the lady at the front desk.

"That'll be $10 for a new ID, and you go to your counselor for a schedule change."

"I never got an ID in the first place, so why should I pay for a new one?" I ask.

"You've never had an ID?" Her voice is doubtful.

"No, I just transferred." I try my best not to roll my eyes.

"What's your name?" She stared at her computer screen interestingly.

"Ricca. Shay Ricca."

"Ricca? Oh." She looks up at me in surprise. "Here." She places an ID on the counter.

"Thanks." I snatch it up. That was easy. "By the way, where's the counselor's office?"

"Right down the hallway and to the right." She points, this time a bit more kindly.

"Thanks again." I nod. I exit the office and look for the office. It's farther than I expect as I stroll along.

I'm still not the greatest at directions. I find myself in some random building that I've never been before. I look around to see if there is anyone I can ask for directions.

There is a guy walking towards me. I assume he's a teacher, but teachers don't look like a steroid-pumped muscleman.

I automatically turn around to start sprinting. I run straight into some guy.

"F**k." I sprawl on the floor. Cupping my nose, I wipe away the trickle of blood dripping down. I try to get up to escape, but I forget to get up from my other hand. I fall straight back onto ass.

Yup, the two guys grip my arms. I do try to struggle. I even scream and shout for help before they put a handkerchief around my mouth. A weird smell fills my senses before I pass out.

I don't think my brothers intended the plan to go this way.

Well shit.

********* "Wakey, wakey!" Someone croaks in a singsong voice as I come to.

I cringe slightly as I open my eyes. "You're still alive?" I clear my throat before saying.

Jacob freaking Smith sits across from me on the ground. Well, he looks like shit. No, I'm understating it. He looks worst than that time Sam Winchester came back from Hell.

"No thanks to you." He cracks a cocky grin as I gulp at him.

I look at our current state: he and I face each other, both of us zip tied. I'm tied to a cold, steel chair but he's several feet across from me sitting on the ground with his wrists and ankles tied. I don't know if he has it worse or I do.

I'm still wearing my ugly chihuahua sweater. The eye isn't cracked. I pray to anyone out there that the camera is working. It's the only thing I got. My glasses are gone.

As usual, i observe and try to keep the place I'm in stored into my memory. The place we are in is devoid of anything besides a lightbulb swinging to and fro from the ceiling. The cement floors and plain walls don't give me any hints to where I am. It's really cold though, goosebumps run all over my arms.

"So..." I say awkwardly. "No love lost between us huh?"

"How has the past months been treating you?" He asks.

"That's a rhetorical question." I say.

"Yep."

"Why are you alive?"

"I dunno," he shrugs but stops halfway. I glance at his right shoulder. It's dislocated.

"Are you going to set your shoulder? It's not good to leave it like that."

"Why don't you lend a hand then?" He laughs bitterly.

"Okay." I roll my eyes. I forget he's a total jerk under that pretty boy charm of his. Still, with bruised eyes and cuts all over his body, I cannot feel anything but guilt and sadness. He's not much of a pretty boy anymore.

"How long has it even been?" He asks.

"Give or take three months."

"Huh." He doesn't say anything else.

"What happened to you?" I sigh.

"Besides the lovely torture sessions , I'm having a wonderful time here. I get deluxe treatment with an extra dose of beating with the guards. It's all I can wish for." He says sarcastically.

"I see you still haven't cracked." I can't help but let admiration seep into my voice. He's a tough guy, I give him that.

He starts laughing, a full-on deep laughter that brings tears to his eyes. I think he has gone insane.

"I forget how you are." He says after calming down.

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter because you're about to get fucked up." He gives me a happy grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes. No, his eyes are empty. "And boy am I going to enjoy it."

"You're a heartless son of a bitch." I glare at him.

"Ah, says the girl who lied through her teeth and put the blame on me." He raises an eyebrow.

I guess he found out.

"Yeah, no pity felt here."

"Oh. It's showtime!" The irony.

There's not a slightest indication of someone approaching me, but I sense it.

A cold hand touches my shoulder.

"Welcome back." He whispers into my ear and laughs as I freeze.

Save me you useless brothers of mine!

I don't dare to turn my head.

In a tight grip, he pulls my long hair back hard. I try not to whimper or make a single noise at the pain it causes to my scalp.

"When I speak, you acknowledge my presence. I am to be respected." He growls dangerously low.

"It's great to be back." I try my upmost hardest to keep my tone neutral.

I guess I should've tried harder for somebody kicks the back of my chair, making me topple onto my knees painfully. All this time he still holds my hair.

He crouches down and lifts my chin up forcefully with his other hand. I can feel bruised forming where he is gripping.

He doesn't say anything as we make eye contact. His cold eyes has never left my mind since the last time i saw him.

He smiles. _________ A/N THANKS FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT!

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