Taken [Zayn Malik]

ch.13- Guns and Roses

My eyelids started to feel lighter again, but my body felt broken, glued together messily by tight ropes. I rubbed my eyes and took a few deep breaths as I tried to make sense of where I was. The ground was dense and wet, like chrome or metal.

And the sun, the beautiful sun that I had taken so great advantage of for the past 18 years was now never to be seen. I knew that where ever I was, there would be no hope of happiness or freedom. I also knew I wasn't in Zayn's satin bed with his possessive arm around me... 

My chest hitched.

Zayn.

I jolted up, but slammed back down as the vines and creatures from the night before held me in place. They hissed and giggled as I fought desperately against them. 

"Let go of me!" I screamed at whatever was tying me down. I couldn't see a sliver of light in the whole room or forest or where ever I was. 

A figure took slow, heavy footsteps and I felt his breath swirl around the place.

I squinted in the cloak of darkness, but I couldn't make him out at all. I had no idea where he was standing, whether he was armed with guns or roses.

All I knew was that he had told me he loved me in the most menacing and delusional voice I had ever heard and I would be a complete idiot to believe he was going to trust a whisper from my lips, ever again. 

"The more you struggle, the tighter they'll pull you" a smooth, steady voice told me casually. He took even, casual steps and I felt him growing closer and closer.

I squirmed and jerked left and right, but just as he had warned, they pulled tighter, so tightly, I was sure I would have bruises for long enough to remember what I tried to pull.

Maybe that was the point, Zayn and his psychotic island of hell wanted to leave me with scars so that I would always remember what I tried to do, even if it was te most basic, human instinct: the fight for freedom. 

I tugged my hands and legs apart, hoping one of them would succeed in setting me free, but I was too hopeful. I looked down at my wrists and saw the semblance of something cold and shiny, dense like the floor I was on.

.I yanked my hands and legs apart and I realized that they were clasped shut by chains. my heart sunk in my chest and I wanted to scream as much as I wanted to cry. 

"What the hell is this?!" I demanded, not bothering to hide my annoyance and frustration. There was no way Zayn would believe me at this point; my poker face was useless.

"A bracelet" he smirked. 

"Bull sh*t" I spat. 

"Don't you dare curse at me, princess" Zayn growled in a low, menacing voice. He stared at my lips and swallowed hard as he stopped himself from saying...or doing something else.

He came up close to me and the green in his hazel eyes simmered as the anger and frustration in his sociopathic mind grew within him.

"I'm never letting you out of my sight. Not when you eat, or sleep, or shower!" he shouted.

"You've been staring at me the whole time you took me captive, you freak!" I shouted back.

His chest tightened as if I had stated his darkest secret.

"I don't stare" he corrected quickly, almost in embarrassement.

I blinked, unsure why he was getting worked up over whether he stared at me or not.

"I enjoy looking at you" he mumbled shyly.

"Well I would enjoy not having bruises on my wrists!" I spat.