Rain pelted, storms grew, and winds blew as I pulled my hood up. Every inch I walked enacted a crime. It was a Wednesday, a week day, and students were to be nowhere outdoors. From time to time, you'd see a sheriff sitting on his seat who had fallen past of being asleep. Probably half dead. Oh, I was not the only one out here, there were others bounding from school, like I was. But was there really anything to do in a small, dead town like York? Not much. You wouldn't see me in town either, I'm pretty sure. If you do, I'm probably the girl sitting by a dumpster scribbling in a beat up notebook.
Try one hundred and one percent certain. Everyone in town's the same, always the same. To find the words to describe, try ignorant, full of themselves, and futile. That wasn't the last of it. Downpour grew heavier as I advanced towards the oddly shaped, slum market to get a coke. The bells chimed when I pulled open the door.
Specks of hair flew to my face when I entered the ziggurat. The strawberry blond, approximately middle aged man practically threw a crazed smile, exposing his glowing yellow bridgework. Drawing back a wry smile, I walked towards the drink section, grabbing a bottle of coke while reading the back label. Little did I know, I had bumped into someone, allowing myself to huff such an amount of air. When our eyes met, my eyebrows began to furrow. A strange sensation began to creep up.
It was only a matter of seconds until we parted back to our ways. After purchasing my coke and walked back outside, drawing back my previous steps. Which was back home. I mean, I didn't have anywhere to go, if you counted the dumpster out. And it was raining hard. After what took forever, I found myself at my porch, searching through my pockets for my keys. Then I gave up, beginning to shiver and sink in the white, plastic chair.
What I did first was, drinking my coke, minding my own business, until I decided to go through the window. I walked to the side of the house where my window was and desperately pushed it to the other side, successfully opening it. I then laid my coke on the windowsill and crawled in through the window, landing jaw first.
Well now I realized where I had left my coke, but anyway, I was about to walk into my room to change my clothes, but I heard these pounding footsteps. That was when I froze, like a deer in headlights. Nobody was supposed to be home. My mom was working somewhere, dad deceased, and my brother was off to college.
A hand clasped over my mouth as I desperately attempted to muffle the words help me. But it was gross because this person's hand was really sweaty. I was then dragged to the kitchen, but those pounding footsteps were off somewhere else. So there were two people in my house.
I don't feel like describing how scared as hell I was, but you get the point. Heart thumping, constricting breaths and hairs at the back of my neck sticking up. When this person stood in front of me, I could see a man probably double my age with some needle that he had on his hand. Honestly, I don't know what happened, but all I could assume was that I was drugged.
His name is John.
You're probably asking yourself, what did these people want? Frankly, I myself, did not know. But now, my feet and hands are tied up and a piece of duct tape was on my mouth. I'm in some room with white bricked walls and some crates and stuff. Probably some storage room. Somewhere, Under Pressure by Queen bounced off the walls, loud.
|Imogen Poots||as Rachel|