I froze, every limb locking into place.
Then, a scream tore from my throat, blocked by the hand. I heard deep laughter above me over the rushing blood in my ears.
"Got one," a voice said, vaguely familiar. . .
"Move it." Another voice hissed in my ear. Legs kicking out, I aimed to get one of them in the legs, arms straining against hands that were as tight and strong as metal cuffs.
The air was short in my lungs as I felt them start to drag me away. "Let go!" I tried to yell, because that's what we're always told to do - yell - but nobody ever talks about what happens when you're gagged. "Get off me! Let me go!"
They just laughed. Both male, by the sound of it. One laugh I recognised, and when I realised from where, bile rose in my throat.
Dark images flash through my head; a fire, a trembling boy, ginger hair, a glinting knife, blood dripping on the floor. . .
"Get off me!" I pushed harder, thrashing, but the street was empty, and they were too strong. I bit the hand on my mouth savagely, but it didn't move. "Let me go! You're hurting me!"
"Shut up," one of them barked. "Stupid bitch."
I choked on tears running down my throat.
My legs carried on kicking, but they dragged me anyway - I could feel myself beginning to tire. Soon, I saw the mouth of an alley in front of me as I was hauled inside, orange light flickering on brick walls.
Fear turned my blood to ice.
"Here," the gruffer one said, letting go of my arms. The hand fell away from my mouth, bleeding from where I bit it. Two seconds later, I was bolting.
Hands grabbed me almost immediately, throwing me back on the ground. Concrete bit into my bare knees, hot pain lancing up my leg.
"Stay there." One said, and I looked up the see the ginger boy. I knew it was him just by the booming laugh. My eyes scanned the scene before me - one of the blond ones stood next to him, and behind me the fire burned.
Through that, I saw the other blond one, and then the eyes I was looking for, expecting.
They stared at me, wider than ever. Black tunnels. Julian was frozen, stuck standing. I wasn't afraid to stare at him now; I was desperate.
"Let me go," I told him. But he didn't move as he stared at me, flames reflected in his dark eyes. "Don't do this, Julian."
"Do what?" The ginger one said from behind me, and suddenly his boot was in my stomach, flinging me back.
I gasped for air.
"She's a pretty one, isn't she?" One of them mused. "Is that why you picked her?"
"No." A vicious laugh. "We thought she looked tasty."
"She certainly does," someone muses, and I feel the pad of a finger run down my cheek. My body is telling me to recoil away, but I can't move. "So, who's going first?"
I hear "me" and then, "no, dick, you went first last time", followed by pushes and growls. My eyes strain to pick up more, but instead one word surfaces in my head, as if it's more important than everything else going on around me.
Tasty? I thought through the haze of pain in my mind. Rolling over, I found Julian again; his mouth was parted now, an emotion like fear in his eyes, only stronger. . .
A hand cracked across my face. It slammed sideways, into the concrete. Hot, metallic blood flooded in my mouth, something warm and wet trickling down the side of my face. It burned.
"I want to have fun with this one," the ginger boy grinned. "The best dinner I've had in a while. . ." He loomed over me then, dark shark eyes all I could see. Sharp white glinted in his mouth, beefy fingers wrapping around my wrist. It felt cold. He lifted it, and terror seized me as he smiled--
He flew away. Or rather, was torn away, crashing into the brick wall. The bricks crumbled on impact, crashing to the ground.
"Get off her." A menacing growl ripped through the air.
My eyes faded in and out of focus, smoke from the fire thick in my nose.
"Julian," muttered the blond one. "What are you doing, man?"
"No-one fucking touches her." Came the growl. It was deadly, furious. Julian.
Under the pain, relief washed through me. Thank God.
"But--"
"Fuck off," he warned. I could see round eyes over me then, and in the firelight they looked brown. "Can you stand?" He asked.
I stared at him. Black curls fell in his eyes.
"Can you?"
I nodded, desperate to go. My legs were shaking as I stood, losing my balance. Julian's hand caught my back, setting me straight.
"Thanks." I croaked. As he led me away, I didn't look at the other boys. My control was hanging on by a thread, and I was sure I'd be reduced to tears if I saw their hungry eyes again.
When there was no orange light, only a dark street ahead, my mind cleared. That's when the pain hit, sharp and hot. Involuntarily, I leant against Julian's side for support, not sure if I could hold myself up without him. My hand lifted to touch the side of my face, where it burned.
"Don't touch it." He caught my hand, pushing it away. I looked at my fingers anyway, glistening red. Blood.
I didn't ask where we were going - I didn't think I could if I tried; my lip pulsed with pain, blood still flowing into my mouth. Without touching, I could feel it swelling.
What the hell had just happened? I glanced over at Julian, five inches taller than me, steel jaw locked. I realised I had underestimated him and his friends all along. I thought the black outfits, the smoking, the cold eyes, were just for show.
But I was wrong. They were dangerous. And they did what they wanted, not caring if people lived or died.
"Come on," Julian muttered, not looking at me for once. "Let's get you out of here."