For a moment she laid where she was, exhausted but fully aware of the distinct and distinguishable sounds happening around her: the turn of the key in the ignition that killed the engine, the audible click of seat belts, and the slam of the car door that vibrated the uncomfortable interior she laid upon. It was only when she was alone on the inside that she made an attempt to move, pushing herself up so that she was sitting with her back against the wall behind her. She lifted her hands, fingertips gingerly moving over the tender, blue and purple spot where she had been struck. With a wince, she quickly withdrew her touch, tucking her hands away in the jacket she was wrapped in. Between being drugged, violated, and backhanded, she was beginning to think she needed to choose her battles more wisely. Not even the adrenaline coursing through her veins was enough to keep her alert. Her head was heavy and she felt sluggish. While she wanted nothing more than to bolt out of the back of the van as soon the doors cracked open, she didn’t have the strength. So when the doors parted and a sliver of light fell upon her lovely, but bruised, face she could only allow herself to adjust passively. Anything more would have cost her too much energy—and she would need it to act on the more opportune moment to escape.<br/><br/>Her squinting blue eyes landed on none other than the man who orchestrated her capture. In the very short time she had been in his presence he showed little emotion. His features were always unreadable, his stare either cold or blank. When he looked upon her now it was easy to tell that he was displeased. She feared that something had happened en route, another slight doled out by her father and his stubbornness. He extended his hand to her and she was hesitant to take it. Clara stared at it as though it were some foreign object. Understandably, she was wary of the gesture and against all the instincts that implored her to remain were she was—tucked in the corner tightly in a ball—she crawled forward and placed one of her cuffed hands in his. She allowed him to help her out of the vehicle, and much to her own surprise he began to unlock her cuffs. As he did so, she looked around to note her surroundings. There was nothing familiar about their location. It was in the middle of nowhere, far from the city and seemingly civilization. It was discouraging to know that if she did run, and manage to escape her abductors, she wouldn’t find help for miles.<br/><br/>His hand under her chin stopped her from gazing at the modern structure, the guards that surrounded it, and the landscape. Clara allowed him to inspect her, knowing now that the signs of agitation he exhibited were because she had been hit. She didn’t think he would have cared, and a part of her knew that he didn’t really. To her, there was no difference between the red marks around her wrists or the bruises on her knees, the hand print on her ass or the ache between her legs. She hurt all over, and yet this wound was somehow different, she concluded as he yelled for a man called Alistar. When he addressed her next, she turned her head to stare at the two guards who escorted her out of the nightclub. They were both glaring at her, daring her to rat them out. They were both caring guns, both large and muscular, capable of doing her more harm. In the spirit of being more careful, she decided against giving the man with the dark hair the culprit. If they were going to be guarding or monitoring her, it was best she keep her mouth shut to avoid retaliation.<br/><br/>“I-I don’t know. It happened . . . fast, and I didn’t stay awake long enough to get a good look.” She lied, though it would have given her more satisfaction to name the man with the red hair who had boldly groped her. He was merely following his employer’s example, likely believing that her body was fair game since she was defenseless and at their mercy.<br/><br/>“She spit in my<i>face</i>. She spit what you told her to swallow. It was a knee-jerk reaction. It won’t happen again.” The red haired guard spoke up.<br/><br/>Clara wished he would have kept his mouth shut.<br/><br/>“You’re making it sound warrantless. You were groping me . . . and you would have gone further if I hadn’t.” She admitted finally.<br/><br/>“I didn’t see anything.” The other guard chimed in, going against Clara’s version of events.<br/><br/><br/>It was two against one, and though she could have argued and defended herself till she was out of breath, she quickly accepted that her word likely wouldn’t hold any weight.