I've been planning this escape for two weeks, It's too early; I haven't planned to leave this soon. I don't have a choice, this is life or death and of course, I want to live.

Kyle left the penthouse thirty minutes ago, which gives me time to yeet out of here. The only problem:

His fucking men. They've been under strict order to keep me in. None of them will bend to my excuses, they are loyal and barely know me.

It's been two months since that night and I haven't been outside since...

It was almost twelve at night, I was walking by the docks to pass the time. I knew I couldn't go home; in fact, I had no where to go.

The bright lights created large shadows between the rows of enormous cargo. My hand ran on the side of a huge steel crate of god knows what. The cold feeling of metal ran through my fingertips, causing my body to shiver.

I carried a thick, bright orange duffel bag on my right shoulder, which held all my precious items from my former room. I mean, I have to admit, it's a bit childish to live with your parents for twenty-five years, but now that fact was unimportant; All that mattered was finding a stable job and a place to sleep.

Earlier, my father was furious with me, but it was nothing new. He'd always go into a rampage after he got high. I thought nothing of it. He had only hit me a dozen times, which is decent for the amount of heroin and coke he had taken. Anyway, I got home after my last day at the diner (I had gotten fired). One thing led to another- he punched me, told me to get my stuff, and I was on my merry way.

Back to the story; so now, I was homeless, jobless, family-less, and cold, finding myself at the docks about two hours after my eviction.

Before my father was a druggie, he moved boxes onto the ships here. Sometimes he'd take me to work with him.

Those were the best days...

We would walk up and down the port on his breaks and he'd tell me what cargo would go on what ship. If we were lucky, a sailor would allow us on their boat; On those opportunities, my father and I would act like pirates on a stormy journey across the Atlantic.

Oh well, there is no point in reminiscing. It's over now and my once beloved father could give no fucks about me.

Lost in thought, I feel my body crash into one of the shipping containers. It makes a bit of a rippling sound, the noise resonating loudly around the area. My head swirls, and I fall back into the cold pavement under my feet. As I sit there, trying to understand what just happened, I hear the sound of low voices jogging to my side of the crate. I try to scramble up, but my clumsy ass falls right back down. Speaking of ass, mine is really sore right now. Like, that first fall was hard, but damn, this second one will leave a bruise. The men round the corner, and the light reflects off a metal figures in their hands.

One of the men, that seems to be shorter than the other, points the object directly at me. The taller one pulls out a flip phone and holds it to his ear.

What is this? 2005?

"Located the noise- Girl, looks to be early to mid twenties- orange duffle bag." The man speaks into it, pausing for responses.

"Sir?" I question the shorter one. "What are you pointing at me?"

The man's look grows sinister, not responding, but looking to the other dude with the prehistoric phone.

"Got it." The taller one speaks into the ancient relic, closing it and pushing it into his pocket.

"Grab her." He throws the order to the shorter man, striding over to me. I try to stand and back away, but he catches me swiftly, then it all turns black.

I can't believe I'm doing this. Part of me cares deeply about this man, but I cannot stay. I will not live my life in fear or in debt with a mafia.

Besides, Kyle doesn't care about me. He told me himself. Staying here and hoping is just silly.

I walk to the elevator door, located at the other side of the penthouse. One of Kyle's men stands there, giving me an odd, but stern stare as I approach him. He's about my height, dark hair, and a dark skin tone. He's clearly bulky, his muscles outline his black, skin tight shirt.

"What do you need miss?" He asks, keeping his eyes on me at all times.

"I dropped a glass in the kitchen, and I need help picking it up..." I lie, hiding my hands behind my back. Little did he know, I had a metal vase in my grasp.

The man just nods, starting toward the kitchen. As he passes me , I take the vase and hit him in the head with it. I use all the might I have. The vase cracks on his head, sending his now limp body to the tile with a thud. I admire my work for a moment before dashing to the elevator. I know that there are men at the bottom, but I have a plan.

The door opens and two men, built just like the one before, give a harsh glare. I step out of the elevator, turning to face them.

Okay Robyn, now, it is time to act.

I look to them frantically, dramatically yelling out; "The man- the guard! He's hurt!" I cry. "I asked for help to clean up the glass I spilled, but he tripped on the water- and now he's unconscious and bleeding!" I start to cry, the tears filling my face. The men hit the elevator buzzer, one of them pulling out a phone. I start to follow behind, but wait, shoving them in as the doors close. I see their panicked faces for a moment, dashing out the next.

I run out into the streets, hailing a taxi with the few dollars I found around the penthouse. I watch as the city starts to disappear, turning into the countryside. The sun would be falling, and the city would be farther and farther away.

I could feel a tear sliding down my cheek. Why was I crying? Why wa--s I feeling guilty for leaving a man who didn't give a fuck about me?

He got up from the bed, pulling up his pants and not taking a glance at me. I lay in the sheets, still dazed by what we had just done.

"Get up." He barks, making me jump a bit. I was confused beyond belief. Just moments ago he was making love to me...

I did as he said, wrapping the loose sheet around my body, he continued to glare as I did so, and I made my way to his side of the bed.

He held out a hand, an angry look on his face. "Don't. Just go. This was a mistake, and it won't happen again." He mutters coldly.

I feel my face heating up and my eyes welling with tears. "Oh.." I stare at him, my emotions beginning to be hard to keep in.

He laughs, shaking his head. "You thought I cared?" He let out a loud chuckle. "You mean nothing to me. Now go to your room, I don't want to see you in here again."