She landed with a thump, shaking and angry, but all too aware of the men around her, sharp instruments in hand. She looked wildly around, desperate to run, but some voice in her head told her to wait.. bide her time. Despite that voice, she struggled against the men, her eyes moving past them to the larger man.. the redhead was completely new to her, though she suspected she was the same woman she saw driving the van as the fatman spoke to them. She whimpered a bit, her wrists aching as they finished stripping her bit by bit, until her small, shivering and pale form was exposed. As they tossed her inside, she felt like she had been gutted. She thought of the other two girls, the bitch and the unknown.. she didn't feel for the bitch, but she did for the other. She scuttled back to the far corner of the kennel, snatching the paper thin blanket and draping it over herself. His words, of course, pissed her off righteously. She wanted to scream at him to fuck himself and let her go.. but that same little voice, that small bit of reason inside of her, stopped her again.<br/><br/>She thought of the first shoot, what exactly that would mean, how she would curtail the bastards into taking her home again. She felt the pain of withdrawl again, and hated it.. She wasn't shaking from the drugs though, she was shaking from fear, letting herself dip further and further into fright until she near panicked. What drew her back was a female voice, reassuring one of the others. The redhead. Her fear quickly turned from fear to anger once more, and she spat across her small little kennel, though it wouldn't have reached her. Chrissy was many things, but a champion spitter she was not. "Fuck off, you traitorous bitch." She said with a snarl, unable to believe that another woman would allow herself to be involved willingly in something like this.. or at least that's what it looked like to her.