My eyes flicker open as I feel my body being lifted off the hard pavement. My mind is swimming, and I'm dizzy.

Where am I?

The Dollar General sign shines out in the darkness, the 'G' flashing on and off. A wave of memories flood back to me; I blanch and start to panic. Struggling to get out of my captive's hands, I kick and scream. My holder wraps his arms tighter around me and covers my mouth.

"Shush Scarlett, it's me!"

I spin my head around and find myself looking into Damon's worried face. I feel my eyes well with tears.

"H-how did you find me. What happened to me Damon?"

"It's alright, nothing happened to you, don't worry," he whispers while smoothing down my tangled hair.

I finally take in all my surroundings, and gasp at what I see. Lying nearby are the two beaten bodies of the cigarette boys. They lay sprawled on top the asphalt, unconscious. I look at Damon, there's blood splattered across his navy v-neck, and his knuckles are covered red. Making my way up to his face, I see a couple drops of blood smeared on his cheek, but he quickly wipes them away.

"What happened?" I ask quietly.

Damon's eyes darken and his face transforms into smoky rage. I feel his grip on me tighten.

"Those...those worthless pieces of shit," he hisses, "they were about to, well you know, but you blacked out right as he started pulling off your shirt, and that's when I saw and intervened. I don't think I did quite enough damage though."

The fury is radiating off him now.

"How did you find me? How did you even get here in time?" I ask in my disbelief.

"Well, technically I didn't 'find' you; I snuck into the bed of the truck before you left."

I knew I wasn't crazy, "Why'd you do that?"

"I didn't want you coming out here alone, and I've never made a better decision in my whole life," he replies with relief, but his expression changes.

"Damn it, Scar! What if I hadn't decided to come? You would have been passed out in the back of the fucking Dollar General parking lot having God knows what happening to you right now!"

I start to get emotional again, "It's not like I chose this Damon! I tried! But it was two against one, I couldn't get out! You don't need to get mad at me. Trust me, I don't need a reminder of what should be happening to me right now if you weren't here!"

Tears start to stream down my face. Damon looks taken aback, but his face softens and he sits down onto the pavement, me still resting in his arms. I'm too tired, mentally and physically, to try to free myself, and, also, too comfortable and safe to try to either. I cradle my head in the crook of his neck.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"No problem, clutz."

I laugh at his joke, but then he follows it up,

"However, I think there's reparation to be made for damages to my knuckles," he suggests with a playful air.

I look up to him, confused, "Do you mean for saving me?"

A wicked grin crosses his face, "Yep."

"You have got to be kidding me, and just when I thought you actually had a sliver of humanity within you."

"No jokes here, love," He smirks down at me.

I put on a pissed face, and he reveals his crooked smile while rising. As soon as he turns, I smile widely.

Damon reaches for the handle, "considering the circumstances you just went through, I think I'll drive."

We return back to camp, leaving cigarette boys dumped on the ground. Once we arrive, we both decide not to join our fellow classmates since we are both pretty exhausted from the past hour's events. Right before we proceed our separate ways, I remember my question I've been meaning to ask.

"By the way, Damon, what do you mean by 'reparation,' exactly?" I ask.

He cocks his head back, showing half his face. A ghost of a smile lies atop his lips, and his green eye catches the moonlight, gleaming through the darkness. He tucks his hands in his pockets, tightening his toned arms.

"That's for me to know, and you to find out, Scarlett White."

Oh how cliche.

He runs his hand through his hair and smirks, capturing me in his seductive stare. Then, he strides off, leaving me red cheeked and flustered. I nervously tuck my hair behind my ear and head back to my tent.

I flop onto my bed, not even giving changing clothes a thought. This has been one of the most emotionally straining, physically draining, and confusing days of my life. Damon has inflicted every part of this day, some I'm very grateful for though. And now he has this whole "reparation" idea. I'm wondering when he's going to pounce with that when an idea starts to grow in my mind. Instead of anxiously waiting on him, why don't I turn on the offense? A sly smile spreads across my face. Tomorrow, I will wear the victory smirk.