As I walk a few tears slip down my cheeks landing on the cold gravel path. Speaking of the cold, I couldn't feel it. I was numb to everything, except pain, which was all I was feeling. 
A guy drives up beside me. He was fat and cute, rosy cheeks and a beard. 
"Hi-O! My-a name's Hank!" He says, a lovable Russian accent coating all of his words. 
"Hi." I say, looking downwards. 
"Girly cold? She need ride?" He asks. 
I look up at him. I trusted a white-haired, red-eyed guy at a bar, this isn't a stretch, plus, he didn't demand anything. "Please?" 
He gave a hearty laugh, holding his bulging belly. "I offered silly!" 
I felt a blush on my cheeks. "Thank you." I pulled open the rusty white car's passenger seat. 
He reaches over and turns on the radio. Happy, Russian folk songs start playing. 
It seems inappropriate for there to be anything happy, as all I could feel was brutal sadness. 
"Girly okay?" Hank asks.
I look up at him and shoot him a weak smile. "I'm good." 
A faint echo rings through my head. "Get out, run." It sounds like my father. 
"Good! Good!" He yells, taking his hands momentarily off the wheel, clapping. 
I grasp onto the dash, looking wide-eyed at him. 
"Oh! Prosti!" He says, putting his hands back on the wheel. 
I look forward and think, happy memories running through my head. It makes me more sad, and feel like I've made a mistake. 
"Devushka, kak vy ne dolzhny byt' v odinochku." Hank says.
"I speak English." 
"What girl doing here?" He asks, chopped and in broken English.
I tap my fingers on the dash. "I got into a fight with my friends, and ran."
"Coward?" He asks.
I shake my head. "I was being strong, they didn't trust me anyway."
He was focusing on me, as opposed to the road. "They dress crazy too?" 
"No, I got injured and someone gave me these clothes." I answer. 
He looks at my hands. "Zanyato?" 
I look at him confused. 
"In love?" He repeats, though I doubt that's what it means. 
I look at my ring. "I was, he's gone." 
"Vacation?" He asks.
"No, dead." I say, trying not to re-live the memory of the raging fire.
"Oh-ho! Same happen to my wife!" He says, cheerfully. "Murdered in vanna!" 
I nod, gazing out the window.  
Hank cheerfully sings along to the Russian folk playing on the radio.
We drive hours and hours, and I begin to get that feeling, my head starts throbbing. 
"Girl okay?" Hank asks. 
"I'm g-" I pass out.

"You idiot!" My father yells. "You're just like your mother! Vacuous and doltish!" 
I open my mouth to speak, only to be waved off by his hand. 
"You got in the car with that fat, benevolent oaf! You were better off with the Keyed one and Winged Boy!" 
"Don't you speak that way about Hank." I choke out. 
"So you don't seem to care about Mylo anymore, or Apollo." He states.
I shake my head, though it was the furthest thing from honest. 
"This is them now." He waves his hand, and the blackness surrounding us pops to life. 
Mylo was chained to a wall, shirtless, red marks lining his toned chest. He was unconscious. 
Apollo was chained to the floor, chains holing onto his horned wings, bending them at an awkward angle, He was silently crying tears streaming down his tender cheeks. 
"You did this." I strain. 
He shakes his head. "Actually, since you left, they've become weak." 
"I haven't even been gone for a day." I sneer.
He chuckles. "Thugs don't rest sweetie."
Everything started going white. 
"We'll meet again." 

I wake up, my hands chained above my head. 
"Did they hurt you?" A familiar voice, who happens to be Mylo asks. 
I shake my head. "Where's your shirt?" I ask.
"They took it, it's easier to be whipped and injured shirtless." He answers.
It felt like a sin to be talking to him, so I turn my head and stare at Apollo. 
"I went to see Nell and Dave, they yelled at me, told me i made so many mistakes they couldn't even count, and I just want to..." Mylo trails off.
"Continue." Apollo squeaks.
"Apologize." Mylo continues. "For literally everything, I'm such a jerk." 
I nod, letting my head drop forward. 
"I missed you." Apollo whispers. 
I shoot him a sympathetic look 
"I got girl, give the payment!" I could hear Hank screaming. 
A shot rang through the air, and a hefty thud following. 
"Hank." I whisper, tears stinging my eyes. 
I could feel all the eyes of the boys on me. "He kidnapped you." Mylo says.
"He was so nice and caring." I say, looking over at Mylo.
"Don't you cry." He whispers. "It'll be too painful to watch." 
"Hank." I whisper again, thrusting myself forward, hoping with all my being, the chains would snap. 
"Hazel, stop." Apollo orders, his voice dead serious. 
I look over at him. He looked so weak and fragile, but so ready to fight.
"We've all lost people, and this is minor." He says. 
I let a soft sob escape my lips, before looking at around. 
This was an torture chamber, flat-out, no questions asked, 
"I'm stumped, Hazee." Mylo admits, calling both Apollo and I's attention.
"What do you mean by that?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "This could be our final resting place."