Crossroads

"Sam, you have to -" A warm hand clamped around her mouth, the other gripping onto her wrist with a painful persistence. "Sam?" she shrieked, the sound coming out as muffled and faint as the whistling of the wind outside. Her brother kicked the metal door open and dragged her outside, ignoring her as she thrashed and bucked in his grip, scream after scream tearing through her throat.

"Hayley, shut up." His words were bitter and edged with anxiety, so much so that they seemed to blur together. Or maybe that was because she was feeling so light-headed from all the screaming. "I have to do this, okay?"

Her heart sank, and her struggling immediately ceased. She could hear her boots squeal against the dirty floor as she was lugged down the hallway. Sensing her resignation, Sam gingerly slipped his hand away from her mouth, before offering a curt; "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Hayley spat, licking her lips and tasting her brother's salty sweat. She repressed a shudder.

"For taking you to the mob."

Panic immediately shot through her system, a thick scream clogging her throat and making her eyes water. She tried to let it out, but all that escaped was a whimper.

"Please don't do this. I'm your sister, for Christ's sake!"

"They said they weren't going to kill you. They promised me that much."

"That doesn't mean they won't beat me until I'm on the verge of death." The panic was crackling through her veins, making her fingers twitch. She felt the urge to struggle again, growing inside of her arms and legs, but she pushed it back. What good would it do? This warehouse was a maze - and even if she managed to get out, they would hunt her down and kill her anyway.

"I'm sorry." He was, she could hear the sincerity in his voice - but that didn't mean she wasn't appalled.

Hayley understood his devotion to the mob - as ridiculous as it was - but for it to interfere with family? Family was family, no matter what.

She would never do that to him. At least, she hoped she wouldn't.

Maybe everyone would, if desperate enough. Sam certainly looked desperate; he was haggard, his usually bright green eyes dull and bruised with lack of sleep.

"They're going to kill me anyway." Anger was creeping into her voice, her natural defense mechanism. "They don't give a shit what you say." Her lips curled into a sneer. She could feel the grip on her wrists tighten.

"Hayley, I'm your brother -"

"You're certainly not fucking acting like one -"

"You think I don't know your stupid little tricks? Acting angry isn't going to save your skin. So drop it, please."

A slight pause.

"Fuck you, Sam."

A heavy sigh dropped from his lips, a disappointed sigh. Releasing one of her wrists, he pushed open the metal door to his right, dragging her inside of the room where the rest of the mob lay.



"So nice of you to join us."

Oh God. She could already feel the bile rising up from the back of her throat, merely at the sound of that familiar voice. Her eyes flickered up from the concrete floor to glare at a pair of smug, blue-grey eyes.

"I missed you so much." Maybe being sarcastic as fuck would save her skin. Maroni had always had a thing for sarcasm.

"That wasn't very genuine." He raised a thick grey eyebrow, before motioning to someone behind her with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Sit."

Her brother's gentle hand was replaced by a much rougher one, the thick fingers digging into her shoulder and practically slamming her into the nearest metal chair. She could have sworn her teeth chattered together with the force.

"Well, I'm not a very genuine person." She rubbed at her jaw absent-mindedly, shooting a glance over her shoulder and recognizing the person who had gently guided her to her seat.

"Why haven't you died yet, Clyde? I prayed hard enough."

"That's odd. I did too."

"Really? Maybe we'll die together. Wouldn't that be romantic?" She snapped, rising from her seat only to be pushed back down by a nameless mob rat.

Clyde visibly bristled. He was a rabid dog on a very short leash, and Hayley always seemed to be the one that untied the knot.

"Well go on then. Hit me. That's why I'm here, isn't it? I doubt you brought me here to have a civil conversation." She jeered, enjoying the way Clyde's ice-blue eyes flashed with anger every time she spoke. There was a kind of power behind it that she reveled in.

What she didn't revel in, however, was the blinding punch that followed. Her face snapped to one side, cheek screaming in agony and eyes burning dully with tears. Her ears rang, as if Clyde had somehow set off an alarm inside of her head.

"That's been building up for a year now." He clenched and unclenched his fist, smirking at her red-rimmed eyes.

Ugh. She was not going to cry. Not for one punch. She wasn't that soft.

"All that pent up sexual tension must have really got to you, huh?" Her voice wavered slightly at the end, and she cursed herself for that.

It looked like he was going to go hit her again, but he was quickly stopped by Maroni.

"Clyde."

Hayley almost snorted. It was like he was reprimanding a dog. She turned away from the skin-head, cheek stinging bitterly and the coppery taste of blood flooding her mouth. But that was just because she had been biting down on her lip to keep the yell quiet.

"Well, Maroni?" She clasped her hands together and rested them on the cool metal table, trying to hold at least an ounce of her dignity intact. "I feel a scolding coming on."

And she was right.

"We don't appreciate cowards, Hayley." Maroni leaned back in his seat with a dull scrape, gaze wandering to the ceiling as he spoke languidly. "You ran away from the mob when you knew your debt wasn't finished. It didn't take long for you to crumble under pressure, did it?"

A muscle in her jaw tensed at the word cowards, and she struggled to remain calm. Thankfully, her voice was cool and collected when she spoke. "What I don't understand is, why you waited a year before contacting me about this."

"You weren't very important. I felt it would be fun to let you loose for a while, before reeling you back in." His lip quirked up into a smirk, just as hers curled into a scowl. Bastard.

"Well, what are you going to do about it? Rough me up some more?" Her voice rose in pitch as her incredulity grew, "Kill me?"

"Option A sounds much more fun." He drawled.

Smack. As if on fucking cue, Clyde's fist slammed against her nose. She heard a sickening crack, followed by a rush of heat as blood dripped down onto her lap. Then the pain struck. A yowl escaped her lips, like a wounded cat, and she clutched her bleeding nose with both hands. She couldn't stop the tears from flowing.

"You fucking broke it!" She snarled through her tears.

Clyde chortled behind her, before grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back so that it touched the top of her chair. The fluorescent lights of the warehouse were blinding, and Hayley's eyes instinctively watered against the glare. She gagged slightly as she felt warm blood stream down her cheeks, matting in her dark hair. His grip tightened, but the sharp prickles of pain rippling along her scalp were nothing compared to the pain roaring at the bridge of her nose.

She wanted nothing more than to put a bullet right between his fucking eyes. She could see her bag, out of the corner of her eye - it was hanging off of the chair closest to Maroni. If only she had it on her now.

But she didn't. She was completely and utterly defenseless. Hayley squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the next blow. For the last shred of her pride to be ripped away from her.

It never came. The door behind her swung open with a crash, and out of pure shock Clyde's grip loosened on her hair, allowing her to escape from his grasp and straighten up with a relieved sigh. She glared over at Maroni, only to have that angry expression falter as she recognized a hint of anxiety in his eyes. The cluster of mob rats in front of her were on the verge of pissing themselves.

She was almost scared to look behind her, and see what had encouraged such a reaction from the people who had been so cocky and confident a second ago.