The way his fingers traced along her body only made her struggle more. She kicked at him anywhere she could, though it only made his grasp on her tighter. Sansa wanted to throw up at the touch of him and he seemed to learn how she was going to struggle, for even when she tried to elbow the man, he was able to move out of her way. The fact that he was used to having a girl struggle against him made her sick to her stomach.
Then she heard noise. Blinking a couple times, the girl glanced up, her hair covering her face. Before Sandor had even made it in, she knew it was him. There was no one else that would have bothered coming back into what seemed like it would have been a bloodbath. Everyone would have decided it wasn't worth having her around. Sansa Stark was the least of their concerns-- just a girl who had nothing but her name. Why would they risk her over someone who actually had skills? But still, the wave of relief after seeing the man that terrified her was enough to cause her lips to curl into what could have almost been mistaken as a smile. In truth, she felt pity for the men.
Blood was all she could see, though she tried to keep her eyes locked on the man who was fighting the guards. The man holding her pressed her closer towards him and she elbowed him in the stomach. For a moment, his group loosened and Sansa tried to get away, but she felt him grasp at her hair once more and yank her back. "Shit!" She yelled out, feeling the man kick at her knees so she fell to her knees.
When he fired off shots, he then rammed the hilt of the pistol into her head, possibly trying to knock her out. The girl let out a scream before the contact was made, vision blurring afterwards. He got them both to the ground, pulling her in front of him. Sansa reeled her head back and made contact with his, and although the banging in her head worsened, she knew she needed to get away. As she tried crawling away, the man grabbed her ankle and pulled her back, practically rolling her onto him as Sandor came near them. The man holding her still seemed to think that he was going to get away with this still. Even Sansa knew differently. As the man stomped down on the other's arm and pushed her away, she crawled back and covered her face with her hands, staring at them through the cracks.
She hardly remembered when she started crying, but she was taking short, fast breaths in an attempt to calm herself down. It didn't work, though. Her heart was still beating fast and when her captor was directed to look at her, her blue eyes only moved to the scarred man in confusion. Was he truly willing to let him live? No-- that couldn't be. Looking back towards the man in pain, she knew that even she wanted him to die. Sansa didn't want the man who had laid his filthy hands on her to continue living. And Sandor granted her that wish.
Her eyes traced over the blood and brains that splattered the walls, lips pursing in astonishment. She had been close to death all her life, but seeing the brutality of it all was different. Looking back towards the man who had caused it, the girl willingly took his hand. To say she was surprised that he thrust her onto his shoulder was an understatement. The girl let out a groan as her stomach contacted his shoulder, though she didn't have much time to complain before he directed her to cover her ears. Doing as she was told, she could still hear the gun shots clearly. He rushed them down the stairs and she felt the rain pouring on her skin, mixing with the blood on her forehead and her arms.
When Sandor finally let her down, the girl crossed her arms over her chest, taking note of the one shoe she had been able to grab before the large man had picked her up. She could hardly feel the cold through her shaking, and for a moment, she still refused to look up towards him. With a few breaths, the tears stopped and she looked around the area. It was completely deserted of anyone who had once been there. "He's gone, isn't he?" Sansa asked, blue eyes finally moving to look into his. She should have known better. Joffrey had proven he was cruel, but leaving her behind to possibly be massacred caused the acid in her stomach to bubble up to her throat. The girl tossed the shoe on the ground and she took a deep breath.
"I'm tired of this!" The tears had begun once more and she spun around, walking in a direction she wasn't even sure of. In truth, she didn't care. Her body was shaking and adrenaline still pulsated through her body. "He's supposed to love me and he just runs off," Sansa scoffed, curling her upper body around her arms. "Runs off and leaves me in the care of someone who probably wouldn't even care if I died," That sentence was quieter, a grumble, really. She wasn't sure if Sandor could even hear, though a part of her hoped that he would. Her hands lifted to wipe at her face, feeling completely ridiculous from this whole situation. Should this have even been surprising to her, though? The only people who seemed to care if she was dead was her family and how long had it been since she last saw them?