Being a prisoner for four hot guys is not as great as it sounds.

Chapter Sixteen

Just a little FYI before you read, I AM NOT ENDING MY STORY YET, m'kay?

I finally get to write an almost torture scene. Here is chapter 17. Please enjoy.

Please do tell if I have taken it a bit too far.

--*--

Where am I?

That's it, the most clichéd thing you can say, when waking up to an unfamiliar place. But having done that twice now, the first thought that popped in my brain was: How the fuck do I get out?

My vision was blurred... nothing new there, I have crappy eyesight from the beginning Aunt Margot had, my teachers and pretty everyone else told me I should get glasses but being the stubborn but persistent that I am, I argued my way out of dorky glasses and settled for sitting in the front in every class that I have. And I am not blind to an extent where I can't see a damn thing, words are just blurry and hard to read.

Well getting out of topic now.

Sight, was definitely not useful right now. The only light in the... wait I couldn't move. My feet felt heavier and there was a cool feeling around my ankles, my hands were clutching something cold and hard.

It looked like I was in - I can't believe it myself - in an old cellar. The only light there was cast by a melting candle. The smell of urine and rust flooded my nose. I sat up, my shirt and jeans were dry but wrinkled. My shoes were completely gone, shit and those were cool Nikes as well.

"God damn it," I hissed under my breath, leaning my head against the cool wall. I laughed.

Really, this is just too freaking clichéd now. Getting kidnapped once was bad enough... okay let me rephrase that getting kidnapped is still not very believing, that coming from a person who has had it happened to her twice. God, why can't I just have a normal life? This is too complicated.

I sighed. Dropping my head in my hands, I let my hair cover my face as I start to mutter ridiculous things to myself trying not to dwell on the fact that there was a great chance of me dying or getting killed. Talking helped, kind of. At least at first after what seems like an eternity-two hours tops-I stopped when I hear footsteps.

Over the shadows I heard voices, two male and a high female one.

"Do you think that girl's still alive?" one of the males said casually like he was talking about the weather and not a dead person.

"The blonde, she's hot. Can I-"

The female's voice booms with authority. "No you absolutely cannot, nitwit."

Then I heard a low chuckle but was stopped by a sudden crashing sound.

"That goes the same to you as well,"

The laughter died just as quickly as it appeared.

I crawled to the corner and hunched my back so I could rest my head on my knees. I tried to stop myself from shaking.

"Hey where- oh she's in there,"

I held my breath. This must be what small bugs think when they know they're about to get crushed, they must feel so small and weak compared to the newspaper weapon the human held in hand.

The door to the prison creeks open. I cringed trying to make myself go through the wall and disappear.

A hand touched my shoulder. I squeaked, definitely not a good thing to do, my whole body was literally shaking now.