Paint A Picture On Me

Veintiseis

{A/N: guys, my bus is #182. Like if that isn't fate then I don't know what is. P. S. two short chapies coming, simply for suspense reasons, sorry! I'll post the next within a day! xoxo}

My sight is blurry and my lids feel heavy as I struggle to awaken. My head throbs and there's so much pressure I think my skull may explode. I groan and blink a few times, my vision clearing up and my pupils dilating, adjusting to the dim light.

My eyes gaze over the unfamiliar environment around me. The dingy room in filled with dust and dirt, although completely void of any furniture. My head lazily rolls to the side, looking for a sign of anyone else. All I find is a small window at the top, too small for anyone over the age of six to fit through. Nothing else was present in the room.

My head flops to the other side and my body seizes at the sight. Kellin lays there. Sprawled out on the floor mercilessly, like a piece of trash. He's propped against a random pole in a line of others, his hands secured around his back, probably some sort of bondage holding him there. He has a bandana tied around his head, keeping him from speaking. He isn't snoring like usual, and his radiant peacefulness is absent. He looks distraught, dirty and uncomfortable. And I did this to him. It's my fault.

"Kellin!" I whisper-shout, afraid whoever did this is watching us. I realize something though and glance down at myself. If he's bound then I must be too. And man oh man was I bound. I have tape wound over my entire forearm, on both sides. I try to pull them free, but they won't shift in the slightest. I try my legs, but they're taped to the legs of the chair. For some reason, however, my mouth is free.

"Kellin!" I say louder this time. He groans, his face scrunching as he slowly awakens. He shifts around on the dirty floor, straightening up a bit as his heavy eyelids open. His body isn't in too bad of shape. He's relatively bruise and scratch free. He has some small cuts on his cheek and forehead, but other than that he's physically fine. Or so it seems.

He grunts, and tries to talk, but the material muffles the words into incoherence. He pulls viciously at his trapped hands, trying to rip free.

"Stop. Kell, stop!" I say loudly, but he just pulls harder, writhing even more profusely. "KELLS STOP!" I yell. "You're going to hurt yourself stop!" My voice cracks as I realize I put the one I love in this situation. It's my fault. He wouldn't be hurting himself if I hadn't interfered his life. He's stopped by now, just looking at me, his eyes filled with confusion and fear.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry, this is my fault." My eyes tear up, but I still see him in a blur, shaking his head. I blink the tears back, letting them coat my eyes in clarity. I sniffle and calm my breathing, shutting off my emotions and turning on my brain. "Okay. We can figure this out. Are you hands tied with rope?" He shakes his head. "Chain?" Another shake. "Oh! Tape, right? Like mine?" He nods quickly, tugging at them again.

I nod, trying to remember how I learned to escape situations like this. I run negotiation tactics through my brain, but that only helps if they show up.

"Use your fingernails to scratch at the tape. It should give after a few minutes," I explain. He nods and I notice his elbows start shifting in a rhythm. I go back to my thoughts, sorting through the millions of possibilities based on my limited knowledge of this. . .what do I call it. . .gang?

"Hey! Boys, look who's up!" Someone says. I roll my head sideways, looking at Ben's brother, Danny, as he climbs down a ladder, into the room. My chest turns to iron as I sit up straight. Our fate rests in this one guy's hands. Both our lives.

"Well, well, well, it's about time," that Fronz kid says, walking in. Within seconds, the entire pack is in the room. Seven of them, I count.

"Where are we?" I ask.