My life before was just like my name, Haven. Everything was peaceful, everything went my way, and I had everything that I needed. If I wanted something, I'd have it in a snap. I didn't need to move, make an effort, or work for it. I just needed my d...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER 2: BROKE, HUNGRY, AND KIDNAPPED
HAVEN'S POV
I don't know if I should consider it a good thing that this country has an extensive variety of instant noodles. At least there's a difference in taste, even though I'm basically eating the same thing.
A part of me wants to cry at the thought of eating another pack of instant noodles tonight, but it's not like I have a choice. I don't want to waste more money to buy ingredients that will just go to waste because whatever I cook turns inedible. It's not like I have money to burn anymore.
I wasn't even planning to go to this grocery store. Sable hasn't given me my salary yet, so I don't have much on me. But this is the only nearest store in the small apartment I'm renting that is open 24/7. So here I am, buying an instant noodle that I don't know how long I can stomach eating.
I could buy canned foods, but they're more expensive than one pack of noodles. Even a can of sardines is expensive nowadays.
There's a saying that beggars can't be choosers, and right now I'm one salary deduction away from being one. For a person who hasn't eaten a single meal today, I can't really be picky. What an amazing life.
I pressed my lips together when a memory flashed in my mind. Right. I can't complain about my current life either. It's called karma. Not because I took for granted what I had before, but because of the truth behind why I even had those privileges back then.
Sighing, I took a packet of instant noodles from the shelves. I was on my way to the cashier when I was drag back, causing the packet to slip from my hold.
The first thing I saw was a thick tattooed arm. My gaze followed the patterns on his skin until I caught sight of his face. The VIP!
He saved me three days ago, so for a second I felt relief when I realized that it was him who grabbed me. But that feeling didn't last long when I saw what his other hand was holding. "Y-You're holding a gun."
"You need to come with me."
I tried to take my hand back from his hold but he didn't let me go. "I... I don't want to."
There was a flicker in his eyes—a glimpse of contemplation as if he's making a quick decision. Then in the next second that sent chills down my spine, he raised his hand and pointed the gun he's holding to my head.
Oh fuck. "I'm going to die," I whispered more to myself than to him. "I'm broke, hungry, and dead. Fuck my life."
"Mouth," he growled and I stiffened.
He drags me along with him, not minding the eyes that are following us. The way he acts, it was as if this kind of thing isn't that uncommon for him. Maybe it is. Maybe he takes women on a daily basis and shoots them in the head. There's an air of confidence around him that tells me that he's not even afraid that someone will call the police on him.
