Warmth came over me and the cutting wind was chilled. My eyes flew open, searching around me in a frenzy. I didn't know where I was.

I was still on the beach but it was far from the boardwalk. I could see trees leading to some woods I wasn't familiar with. The crashing waves were loud and lightning cracked in the night.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up." A frighteningly familiar voice called from behind me.

In the darkness I could begin to see I was tied on a beach volleyball court. My wrists were tired to a pole each and I was made to be kneeling on a wooden stool?

"How are you Casandra? ..Scared?" This voice was more feminine than what I expected.

"You're confused," she stated as she strutted into view. "I'm Caitlyn, Donovan's sister. Oh I know big surprise, the big scary surfer guy had a sister?" She was tall, fit, and tan. The typical surfer babe, if you were into that.

"You're probably wondering how you got here. Well," she grinned as she picked up a torch, "let's just say I had some help."

The trees in front of me lit up in the darkness. Out emerged surfer nazis, at least 10 of them were there all together. All had torches, flame active.

"Your boys took my boy. My brother. My only family, my love. And now?" She paused, as she used one of the surfer nazi torches to light her own. "I'm taking you from them."

"Woah, woah, woah. I don't have anything to do with your brother and I'm sure the Lost Boys don't either," I tugged on my arm restraints, they were ties tied. Geez, someone was in the scouts for Christ sake.

"Oh please," she sneered as she came closer, "had nothing to do with it? They literally carved their name in his corpse after he attacked you. I saw them do it!"

It hit me like a train, all at once...

Within the last two weeks, I'd seen the boys twice as opposed to the normal every other night or so. I'd been walking down an alleyway, trying to get to the shelter.

Lately though it was as if the odds were just not in my favor. I'd missed several buses to the district the shelter was in as well as being turned back to Max's shop to avoid being mugged, raped, or murdered. Sketchy figures kept to the shadows in the back alleys I love so much. It was unusual, all the safe alleys where weeping with darkness and the shadows seemed to move. Better to avoid trouble when it's seen.

Tonight, I'd gotten off work a bit earlier and was going to take full advantage of a cot tonight rather than the ground. Ah but rather than a cot or the ground, there is always a bed waiting for me back at the cave... Along with four men of which I am very cross with. What kind of assholes seriously endanger their friends? Was I even their friend? Was I more? Was I just another body to warm their beds? If I am, that's a damn shame.

I dreamed of the day I'd make it well off enough to have my own bed, my own room, and of course a place I felt I fit. In all reality, those were dreams and not all dreams became reality. I guess that was Donovan's crushing purpose though, to make sure I didn't dream again.

Halfway down an alleyway, a glass beer bottle rolled in front of my feet and a long low whistle was hear behind me.

I didn't freeze or look behind me. I situated my bag on my shoulders and shifted my weight before taking off. I could hear my boots hitting the damp, cracking asphalt. Focusing on switching alleys and turning corners, more and more footsteps fell on my ears.

My stamina had fallen over weeks of exhaustion and lack of activity. I hadn't walked far or had the opportunity to surf and skate. I'd just sleep in the most inconvenient times in the shop. I was slowing down, becoming tired and breathless. I pushed despite the hot breath and fingertips I felt on my skin and in my hair. I huffed, pushing but it wasn't enough.

Fingers wrapped around my dreadlocks, knotting tightly before yanking back with a force much greater than my own. I was on my back, bag dragged off me and the broken asphalt below was pushed into my spine. I hissed in pain, my hands going up to cover my face. My elbows bled from being skinned but I was more concerned with defending myself.

Angry hands grabbed my arms and wrenched them down. Four guys, one for each limb, then two more standing watch. And two more shadows. There were light whispers then silence. I flinched as I heard hard steps and the scrapping of something on the wall of a building.

"Open your eyes little rabbit," Donovan commanded, something sinister in his voice shook me to the core.

"Open, open, open little rabbit," he sung, as he leaned over me. He stepped on my left arm and put a knee on both my legs, pushing my body further into the broken, cutting ground which was filled with broken glass and trash.

A sharp sting to my cheek caused me to glare through my lashes at the bully above me. I tightened my lips and glared hatefully as his hand took me by the jaw, turning my face slowly before slamming my head back into the ground. I hissed quietly and his grin grew.

"Mmm, more sounds baby, louder," his voice grew louder and something in his voice was breaking.

"I bet I know why those boys like you," he started to whisper, coming in close to my face, "you put out. You give them, all four of them, what they want out of your body. Maybe it's what you do with your lips," he licked them slowly, as hot tears began to fall from my eyes quickly.

"Maybe it's the pink in your cheeks," and he slapped them harshly again.

"Maybe it's your scent," he dove in close, inhaling deeply before pulling back and sliding lower.

"Maybe it's the way your clothes show off just the right amount of skin. Your hips.. stomach.. arms..." he stopped right at the top of my shorts, grinning evily before he ripped them down, exposing more of my stomach to him.

I began struggling, wiggling to get away. I was panicking, trying not to show it, but he knew. Who wouldn't be afraid? He lifted his foot off my arm, leaving boot marks on it before shifting and making himself comfortable on my knees. Two hands held down each arm, and Donovan's place on my legs kept me from moving. He smiled at me, eyeing my face.

"You look like the kind of girl that isn't afraid of a little pain," he leaned forward, and rugged on my nose ring, smiling when I cried out.

Leaning back he flipped open his all too familiar switchblade," let's see how you handle this slice," and he broke into psychotic laughter as he began putting all his weight on my legs.

He dove without hesitation. He dug his blade into my and with each slice, I screamed and I cried. And as he carved the last letter, I finally screamed it.

"David!"

A hit in the ribs.

"Dwayne!"

Another rib hit.

"Marko!"

A hit right under my eye.

"Paul!"

And finally a hit in the stomach which effectively knocked the wind out of me. I closed my eyes, wincing, panting hard.

"Donovan, haven't you learned anything?" A gruff, familiar voice asked.

I wrenched my leg from underneath Donovan as he twisted to face David. I kicked as hard as I could, before the two pairs of hands were ripped off my arms. Opening my eyes, David had Donovan by the throat, against the wall. Dwayne had the two grabbing me, one in each hand. Marko had the two blocking an exit and so was Paul. All were silent, listening, watching the two gang leaders.

I held my stomach, as the searing pain was almost unbearable.

"Didn't we warn you?"

"Never touch what's ours again,"

"Run,"

And I did. I stummbled out the alley. I wasn't sure who said to run but it didn't matter. It was a warning for anyone who was listening.

I made it a few blocks away but I could still hear screaming. I could hear the pain I felt and a smiled as I wheezed in pain. I brushed the gravel, asphalt, and glass off my back and elbows. My head was pounding, as was my face. I knew there was a good possibility my eye would be swollen shut or at least bruised heavily. My body ached but mostly my lower stomach. I grimaced, glancing down, dreading to see the damage done.

Two words graced my skin.

Dead. Meat.

And two days later, when I was back at work, all patched up. I was wearing a black full top with bell sleeves with a soft side tied black beach skirt. I needed to wear a full top to cover the bandages. I wasn't sure how they'd found me that night but they did.

I woke up at the shop with white bandages covering a mostly healed set of scars. Strange considering how I got them last night and here I was in less pain then I initially anticipated.

Early that day many people came in, one in particular had been with an older lady. Donovan. He had two white bandages, one on each cheek. He looked flushed out, almost sheet white.

I watched him; he was constantly looking over his shoulder. He was silent until we made eye contact. He let out some kind of scream and ran out the doors. His older lady followed after him, calling for him to come back.

And he did come back. Hours later around closing where I was once again alone.

The doors were still open as closing was in a few minutes. Loud, thudding steps caught my attention. There he was, standing in front of the door. His bandages were gone. A jagged letter was stitched up each cheek. An L on his right cheek and a B on his left. Lost Boys. Jesus Christ, it looked bad.

His stitches were solid black and the flesh attached were a solid, irritated red. Fresh in flesh and in mind. This wasn't something he'd forget. He looked tortured and he was if you thought about it. He had two long, ugly jagged scars. A symbol, a warning. No girl would swoon over his handsome looks again, distracted by the scars. Children would run in fear where as they used to admire the surfer's skill. And he wouldn't be shunned by society for whatever he did to earn those scars from the well known and fear boardwalk gang, the Lost Boys.

"How's it hanging Donnie?"

"You bitch. First my right hand man, then my gang, and now my face? What else are you going to take from me before you die?" He snarled as he enter the shop.

"You're time is up little rabbit... come to think of it, I should have that in your stomach instead of 'dead meat'... actually I might just put that somewhere else," he grin grew, as he pulled out his trusty switchblade, the grin pulling on his stitches caused them to start bleeding.

"Going to finish the job then, huh?"

You know, when you hear about it, it starts to sound like a joke.

A paranoid young woman in a video shop with a knife wielding psycho. Four young men walk in and guess what they say?

"Didn't you learn this lesson the first time? I guess not,"

The leader takes the psycho by surprise, disarming him and taking one arm while the tall, dark one takes the other. The shorter one with the gloves slides the now closed switchblade into his pocket and holds the door open with the other tall blonde. The psycho is dragged out by the four and the shop is closed up by the young woman safely.

Funny isn't it, how this time the girl is saved? That doesn't happen often in Santa Carla. Let alone to be saved multiple times. It's almost as if there isn't at least five new faces on the missing message board at the boardwalk each night.

"You probably didn't see me there. Remember the little details," she stated coldly.

Two guys on my arms, two guys at each end, and two shadows. Only one was Donovan's. The other shadow.

And the harder I thought I realized, "Run," wasn't directed towards me. David hadn't said, nor Dwayne, Marko, or Paul... it was Donovan, he was talking to her.

"So you do remember, don't you Cassandra?"

I looked up blankly. Sharp pains hit in my chest. Rapid beating in my ears.

"How could I forget? You were the other shadow," I groaned, fists clenching as a sharp pain hit again, making my stomach churn.

"Good work detective. I was wondering how long it'd take you to figure it out," she sneered, taking a step closer.

"Assumingly that means you can figure out what's going to happen next can't you?" Her smile was a malicious one as she held up the active torch as if presenting it to us all.

She turned to the others that came from the woods. Beconing them towards our little group.

"You boys came for cake for a show, and now you'll get one," her smile unnerved me, much like her brother's.

My chest began to ache and my gums felt as if they were beginning to bleed. My finger stung as if having many tiny paper cuts all at once.

"This is the one we've been waiting for," her voice carried over the sound of the crashing waves and the thunder that struck heavily. The gas was spilled around me and on the boards beneath my feet.

It all became very slowed down at that point. Caitlyn took her time, lowering the torch, attempting to torture me with the suspense.

A low growl broke from my throat, followed by the snapping of rope.

I rose steadily as panic spread across the crowd. I opened my mouth to berate them but the dreaded cry cut off my voice. Terror, pure terror in their eyes. They screamed and yelled and fought over themselves to spilt up. They didn't get far.

In the blasts of lightning and thunder, I watched as each member was picked off one at a time. A familiar sound echoed as the wind blew. Laughter. The boy's laughter specifically.

The only person left was Caitlyn, too frozen in fear to run. Unable to stop myself, my hand flew to her throat, squeezing slowly. She dropped the torch in panic and the wood beneath us burst into flames.

I was surprised at the sudden development but before I could make a decision, I was knocked back. I was dragged to the water and I just kept getting splashed in the waves. The water kept moving too fast for me to wipe my eyes and get a good look at what was happening around me.

I do distinctly remember the screaming, it was shrill and full of pain. I remember the smell of burning meat and the crack of the ocean and thunder before being pulled from the water. After that, everything was black as the night.

Revised: 4/16/18