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C h a p t e r O n e »»————> F u c k <————«« Sofia Warren
Ringing. Loud echoing, never ending ringing. Good god, I want to rip my ears off to make it stop.
I sit up from the hard surface I've been tossed on, I assume. Looking around, the room is bare. Painfully cold, and dark. Not to my surprise, there's nothing I could use to escape.
I rub my eyes to get a good look at everything. Goosebumps rise on my forearms, taking in all the dried, stained blood spots on the walls and floors. There is a bath, that once probably shines bright, but now is cracked and stained dull. The sink resembles the same horrors of the tub. The small bed I am sitting on has probably been the casket of hundreds of souls before me.
It's very dim in the room, an occasional breeze-like-chill waves past me. How? No idea. There's no windows anywhere. Maybe good air conditioning. How considerate of my captor, soon to be murderer.
I take in as much oxygen as I can, trying to distract from how bad my head hurts, it's nearly worse than a hangover.
Whoever kidnapped me is probably gonna beat me too. No that's not a probably, they're— he's definitely going to beat me. Sorry not sorry, but chicks don't kidnap chicks unless they're lesbians.
"Hey, fucker who kidnapped me?" I get up from the squeaky bed. My bare foot slaps the cold, cracked concrete.
"Ya know, it's rude to ignore your guests." I yell from one side of the door. I stand on my tiptoes in attempt to look through the peep hole. Its the ones on apartment and hotel doors so you don't open the door for an arsonist, or a creepy 60 year old man with a knife hidden behind his back.
"I'm not, you're just looking in the wrong direction." A deep and raspy voice speaks causing me to jump.
This gets a cold chuckle out of the person. I turn around to make eye contact with a man... maybe a bit older than me.
He's hot, like godamn... Really hot. Great. On the bright side, I'll go out eye fucking him, when he does kill me, I prefer he chokes me, he looks as if he could do it with ease. His hand is probably larger than my whole neck, which technically wouldn't be too big of a flex knowing I am just barely reaching 5'0.
"You're really hot for a kidnapper," I cross my arms and lean more on one leg.
I may be asking—begging for death, but maybe if I seduce him into thinking I'll love him forever and be his little slut I can run away and get his ass behind bars.
He is calm. My words are like water balloons that bounce off the target and burst on the ground instead. An arm rests on the chairs armrest, his other props up his elbow, allowing his hand to touch his chin. His gaze burns deep into my skin, like he's imagining chopping my head off or imagining me naked, it's hard to tell. His pants crease and crinkle at the bend of his knees. Black pants, a black button up silk shirt, the arms pushed up to just before his elbows,
