❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ
ғᴇᴀʀ ɪs ғᴇᴀʀ ɪᴛsᴇʟғ ❞
~~~
🇬 🇦 🇧 🇷 🇮 🇪 🇱 🇱 🇦 :
Four years earlier; August 2011.
A loud scraping of metal against tar startles me awake. My eyes open, but I'm unable to see around me. It's as if I hadn't opened my eyes at all. I fight against a shiver that racks my body when a breeze caresses my bare arms. Like someone had opened a freezer and let all the cold air waft out.
I go to wrap my arms around myself, only to be restricted at the wrist, leaving a cold, painful sting behind.
Where am I?
I retrace my steps. I was in the park. On a secluded bench to meet Xander. He'd texted me an hour before to meet him there. He needed to talk to me face-to-face, he'd said. Tell me something that had been weighing on his chest for the past week we'd known each other.
Then…
I gasp softly as the memories come back to me full force. Someone shot a dart into his neck, knocking him out cold. And then I felt a sharp pain in my neck, only for darkness to catch me.
Had the person who attacked Xan taken me? Is Xander okay? A rush of worry floods my system, but is cut off by a buzzing noise.
Someone's here.
A fluorescent bulb flickers in the very middle of the room, then blinds me when it fully switches on. I blink rapidly in an effort to gain my sight back. Soon, the blurriness fades, and I take in the room around me.
There's a wooden table filled with objects I'm unable to see from my spot on the wet tar floor. Two metal chairs on either side, and one that has an occupant.
The person—I'm assuming male by his build— is leaning against the back of the chair, head hanging back, as if he doesn't want to be here. He's wearing a full black outfit, including a black ski mask, and sunglasses.
His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, revealing thick, muscled forearms. One of which has an intricate spiral that starts from his middle finger, and slithers up and under his shirt sleeve.
His head tilts in my direction, and even with those glasses as a barrier between me and his eyes, I still feel the heavy gaze of it piercing my soul.
My heart races when he gets up, standing to his full height. When he reaches me, he drops into a squat. I pull against the restrictions at my wrist, which I now realise are metal cuffs that are chained to the wall behind me.
He tugs at a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. My skin feels on fire, and infested with some form of a bug at the same time. My kidnapper tilts his head to the side, as if taking me in.
"Wanna play a little game, beautiful?"
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
The Heart Wants What It Wants
Ficção Adolescente❝ She wanted a fresh start, He wanted normalcy, But their past had other plans. ❞ ~~~ For the majority of her life, Gabriella had to endure all the things a child should never have to experience. After nearly two years of planning to start afresh...
