Super Bad (Completed 2013)

‡ Chapter 3 ‡

Pure shock iced over my blood.  My eyes zeroed on the sticky, wet bullet that was now squished between my legs.  A scream begged its way up my throat, but my vocal chords remained cold. 

The driver turned her head around.  “What’s going on back there.”  Her glance darted towards the bullet resting in my lap and then at Cray.  “Don’t tell me you did it in front of her.” 

His lips parted, yet no words projected. 

She let out an inhumane growl and hit her wrist on the steering wheel before fuming back to the road.  “He’s gonna kill you, Cray.  He told us twice, twice.  He said not to...”  Her voice faded as her voice crinkled into grumbles and murmurs. 

Not that I was paying attention.  My mind was too focused on the bullet that just slipped out of Cray’s flesh as if it were butter. 

“You okay?”  His eyes roamed my colorless face, searching for a response. 

His voice woke up my blood flow and I suddenly felt the bubbling sensation burst from my throat. 

It was my scream. 

The car veered off, and my body swayed with Cameron’s.  We snapped forward, our seatbelts catching us as we snapped back.  A curse broke through the driver as she regained control once again, shouting demands at Cray that my ears refused to hear. 

My screams were the only audible noise I accepted. 

A sudden jab pierced into my arm.  My scream heightened as stings rushed through my veins.  My gaze fell to the needle stabbed within my arm. 

I failed to squirm away, the more movement equalling greater pain.  Cray whispered a rough, “Sorry,” before everything in sight was eaten by darkness. 

‡‡‡‡‡‡

I winced as the white light trickled slowly into my eyes.  The moan stretched past my cracked lips.  The entire small room was drowning in white: the walls, the ceiling, and the chair I was on, the chicken. 

My heart pounded against my chest.  I shot to my tied hands behind my back, the silver chains wrapped around the chair.  Panic stood my hairs on ends.  I swung my body to move, but the chair was cemented to the ground.

Frustrated, I cocked my head to the side and nearly forgot about the white chicken.  Skinny and full of pale feathers, its legs were chained to the chair, restricted as much as me.  It eyes.  Dark.  Eerie.  Red. 

Red?

Creak! 

My neck craned towards the door. 

Dimensions of perfection curved around this man, his square jaw sculpted, dark brows narrowed, and honey glazing eyes.  His age was hard to make sense of, the young adult range the mere fact I could grasp.

I swallowed hard and did a poor job shifting away as another God followed after him.  The first man had a sleek black suit groped along his body.  The other was clothed with a tight black t-shirt and midnight coloured jeans.

Intimidation rocked my stomach and I mustered to glance away as the door slammed shut, the outline of the frame disappearing into the walls. 

Their black shoes halted under my dropped gaze.  From the reflection off their shoes, I watched the suited man trail his glance between the chicken and I like he was going to eat us.  Not in the kinky way, people. 

“So what’s the creepy, bird nosed, feathery, boney thing?” he spoke.

“Jessie Daniels,” his friend said.