As we moved further into the heart of the building, the decor progressively vanished and cracked plaster with dripping pipes took over the architecture. My bartender guide finally stopped outside a large oak door at the end of a hallway. He knocked the door smartly twice and the door opened immediately as if we were expected. One of the pinstriped men had opened the door, and the other stood against a wall opposite us. And like any mob boss out of the movies, a man in a dark gray suit sat at a desk fiddling with a big gold ring encrusted with rubies.

My companion stepped forward, now losing the confidence he had possessed at the bar. "Uh...Louis? Um, we've got a friend of Thomas' here to see you," he choked out eventually. Louis' eyebrow inched up his forehead along with the corner of his mouth until his entire face was a smirk. "Thomas brings me a sapphire for my collection? George, give him my thanks." With Louis' remark, the man against the wall left through another door I had not noticed before. With the snap of the door, Louis stood and slithered towards me across a ratty rug.

Then a yell suddenly issued forth from the door where George had just disappeared. I jumped towards the sound and immediately Louis' fat hand was holding my jaw in a breaking grasp. "Don't slip away, my jewel," he chuckled. I fidgeted trying to find a way out of his grasp, quickly becoming frustrated and flustered. Louis barely had to move to hold me, his eyes dancing with delight as I struggled.

And then I bit his hand. I couldn't think of anything else to do! Louis' grasp slipped for a split second and I ran for the door where Thomas' cry had come from only moments before. Two pairs of rough arms grabbed me and pinned my arms behind my back, lifting me into the air. I kicked my legs back as far as I could and was repaid with my face being rubbed into the gritty rug. "Fiesty," Louis commented drolly, "maybe she would benefit from a little of what Thomas ordered." And I was grabbed once again and shoved through the door into darkness.

The room smelled of leaky pipes and stale sweat. Dim shafts of light filtered through the slats of a vent. Ragged breaths faintly rattled in the corner from a lump on the floor. My escort shoved me roughly to the grimy floor and promptly snapped the door shut again.

"Thomas," I called softly as I crawled towards his body. He groaned and shifted further away. When I reached him I pulled his arm gently towards me, but he threw me off roughly and shivered further into the corner. "Thomas," I repeated, more tentatively this time. He took in a few shaky breaths and choked out, "I'm sorry, I am so so sorry," through his tears. "It's okay, it will be okay," I replied softly.

I withdrew my hand from his arm, and even in the dark of the small room, I could see blood painted across my hand. "What did they do to you?" I frantically asked as I scrambled to see his arm better in the dim light. Dried and fresh blood mixed on his arm as I searched for the source of his wound. He moaned and rolled back towards me, his eyes closed tightly in pain. I pushed the sleeve on his wounded arm up, and more blood oozed from his wounds. Ripping off the hem of his shirt, I wrapped up his bicep tightly.

After a few moments, his body relaxed and his face fell into the light. His right eye was swollen and blood trickled from his nose and lip. But his eyes had finally releaxed from the pain, and he passed out. We stayed there for what felt like hours. I just sat there, curled up in a ball, not sure of what to do or where to go without Thomas conscious. As I began to finally nod off, I felt his hand interlock with mine weakly. I smiled and fell into a fitful sleep.