Our Fading Stars

12. Your Voice

Pete's favorites songlist
Track 7: Chicago- Hard to Say I'm Sorry

Tiana's POV

"I told you to be quiet!" The man threw the vase onto the ground, shattering the glass across the wooden floor. He flicked the lighter with his graceful fingertips and lit the cigarette.

He was tall with scrawly chestnut hair messily tangled that made him look like a super model on a magazine. He kept turning his black, marble-like eyes at me, to check if I was doing anything suspicious to get away. His facial features were sculpture-like, carved carefully to beauty. But under that gorgeous face, lied a crazy kidnapper. I whimpered behind my gag, which was a white cloth. I figured it might be a hankercheif, because it didn't smell like a sock. It smelled clean like it had just been washed.

I felt the trickle of blood trailing down my cheek that came from the injury on my forehead. I was sure it needed stitches.

My mind replayed the scene where my guard had stupidly let me down. I had been blind, thinking that everyone who spoke to me would be kind. Everyone wouldn't want to hurt me.

"Hello, beautiful," The mysterious man had said. "Where are you going?" He flashed his golden smile.

"Oh," I'd said dumbly. "I'm going to borrow some towels."

"I'm on my way there too. Do you want some company?" he suggested.

"Sure."

That was my mistake. I should have felt something off about his smile being too wide. Or the scent of strong alcohol buzzing out from his body. Or the chilly feeling his eyes sent through me. There were so many hints, but I hadn't tried to catch them.

When he hit me with the metal pipe hidden behind his back, I fell to the ground and cut the left of my forehead on a jagged rock. I couldn't see anything through the spinning world, but I felt him haul me up onto his shoulder, and deviate from the dirt path into the grass.

Now we were in a dimly lit room in a tiny cottage, down by the river not far from the campsite. But the way here was hard to find, and I doubted anyone would come to my rescue.

The man dialed someone on the phone, and pressed it to his ear. When he was met with a voice, his face brightened up. "I've got a girl, guys. I've proven myself now."

What the hell is he talking about?

He stayed still, listening to a gruff voice speak to him. "No, only a little. She's conscious and fine. You guys can come over."

Is he selling me?

"No, give me the money by bills. We don't want to leave any trails." The man let out a low laugh.

He's selling me. I'm going to be raped.

The tears dropped from my face to my jeans leaving dark stains on the faded blue.

"Does this mean I'm finally in your gang?"

Every word coming from his mouth made me boil up in anger. I was going to be sold because he wanted to prove himself worthy to join a stupid gang? A f*cking gang?

I could feel the faint vibration of my phone in the back of my jeans. Being tied to a chair, I couldn't move very much. If only I could reach my hands just a little further, I would be able to text someone for help without even looking. My arms shook from the painshooting through my wrists coming from the rope that held me tightly as I reached out more than my hands could, down to my back pocket.

My fingertips brushed the cool metal and I caught it between my index and middle finger. Making small whimpering sounds to pretend I wasn't concentrating, I slowly pulled the phone out. Just then, the man slammed the table he was sitting at with his fist, causing me to drop my only way to saftey.