subside. // haylor au

nine

Dark. Everything was absolutely dark. Nothing is seen and the deep intakes of breath that I took made the smell of the dirty fabric on my head even worse. I try to scream, but I couldn't, the foul taste of thick cloth on my mouth almost makes me choke.

"Zayn, she's awake," I hear a man's deep voice.

Suddenly, I feel the cloth push up, out of my face, messing up my hair as I groan. Pure light is exposed, squeezing into my eyelids.

After adjusting my sight, I come to the conclusion that the man that has took me is now visually in sight. but however, there is certainly two men. Despite the fact that I am in a sitting position, there is no doubt that their height will still tower over mine even if I stand. 

The man standing closer to me has almost dark brown hair that is slicked to the side. Due to the light shining, I can see a clear stubble across his jaw. 

The other man, who stood further away has dark, jet black hair. The ink on his skin made it hard to see the normal skin on his arm, since the permanent ink surely covered the majority of the skin on his right arm. They both wear leather jackets and they look like a secretary of some sort.

They stare at me like I wasn't human. That's how I felt. Abnormal. Weird. Odd. 

"Mate, we should tie her up, she's not trustworthy at all," The man closer to me speaks up and reaches for the rope that is near the door. It was a dark room with only one light bulb shining right on top of where I am sitting. 

I try my best to escape, but that's when I realize the thick rope around my leg too.

I scream, but it came out muffled because of the cloth around my mouth. My muscles around my jaw ached and the sweat didn't help.

The guy came over me and tied the rope around my stomach, pulling my arm in to make sure that my full body is tied. Even if it wasn't, I wouldn't be able to run anyways.

"Calm down little girl, there's no need to be afraid," He looks at me and I look up, glaring at him, giving him the deadliest glare I can ever make with my face. "We just need only one question answered,"

He takes the cloth out of my mouth and I feel the feeling of being free, able to speak. My throat hitched and it made it hard to swallow.

"So," He starts, kneeling down, his face close to mine. "Where's the money?" He asks and my mind races.

What money? What is he talking about? Why am I involved? What is going on? 

All the questions race through my mind as I try to figure out a way to escape at the same time.

"Oh you know exactly what I'm talking about," He takes my arms and squeezes it hard. Making me flinch, but I don't show it.

"Zayn, the whip," The guy says and this makes my heart stop. I hate the sight of someone being whipped, let alone actually feeling it myself.

"No! Please! No!" I scream, but the man proceeds his way to get the whip. I struggle to move myself and get out, but it doesn't do any help. "What the hell do you want from me?" I cry, my voice breaking at the end. The tears came out than expected and my senses aren't able to divide the difference between sweat and tears anymore.

Suddenly the man who I recall is Zayn, takes his phone out and reads the text message for a while.

"Liam," He says and I stare frantically at the both of them, having a sliver of hope for my life.

"I think we should stop," Zayn says, his eyes repeating the motion from left to right, like reading some kind of text message.

"He's going to be mad as hell, Jesus," Liam mutters and starts to untie the rope.

"Right you," The guy named Zayn points at me, "Get up," He says and I oblige for dear life. The rope set me free and I almost stumble to the ground since the ropes connecting my feet is still attached, but Liam quickly sorted that out and fixed it.

"I swear, if you tell anyone, I'll drag this knife right across your skin, here, you see this?" He pulls my finger up and forces me to touch the sharp blade. "Feel it," He pushes the tip of my finger harder against the blade until it pricks almost deep into my skin. I stutter from the abrupt pain that stung my skin. The crimson red blood drips from my finger and he lets go of it. "You feel that? Well if you want that feeling across your whole body, right here," He points the blade just in front of my chest, the tip of the sharp object, slightly coming in contact with my skin, "Then go tell the whole world and let's see what happens," He whispers and drops the knife, just next to my figure.

"Go," They both say and with that, I dash out of the black door, without even looking back. I ran for my life, like there was hell chasing behind me and that the ground was crumpling behind me. I ran like there was no tomorrow and that there would be nothing in front. I ran so freely that I almost cried in joy, I was so scared in there, I was scared that the last minutes I spent on this world would consist of the feeling of being lonely, stressed and tired. I was scared that the several minutes that I would face would be full of fear and suspense. I was so scared. I was afraid.

By no time, I reach the apartment, I fumble getting the keys out of my pocket and with the elevator buttons. My hands are shaking and the reflection in the mirror in the elevator gave me chills. I look dead pale and I didn't look alive. My hair is messier than anything, but I couldn't care less about fixing it. It is definitely my last priority right now. I tap my foot nervously on the wooden elevator floor. How did I even survive that? Was that fate, or was that just pure luck? God only knows what, all I know is that I'm safe and breathing.

By the time the elevators slide open, I rush to my door, tripping a few times to the shakiness of my legs. I struggle with putting the keys in the whole of my door and jabbed my own finger that was already cut open. I squeal quietly in pain and that made the other door open. Harry's head poking through.

I scream a little at his sight, making him jump too, but he wasn't even twice as scared as me. I'm freaked out and I'm in a state of trauma. My legs are weak and I feel like I could melt to the ground any time. My head is spinning and I feel nauseous.

"What the bloody hell," He says, almost showing slight signs of panic, he rushes to my sides and grabs my hand. That's when I also realize that the red marks on my hands are utterly visible. They are clear as day and not the largest amount of concealer would be able to conceal the bright redness that was caused by the heavy pressure that was put on my skin earlier on.

His eyes widen and his jaws clenched. I force myself to look away, but I am too tired to do so, anyways, so I didn't bother.

"What hap-" He starts to question and I groan. All I want right now, literally, is a glass of water and some rest.

"Nothing, let it go, nothing happened." I speak in the most unconvincing tone ever, and to my surprise, I slam the door at him, for the first time. It is satisfying, I swear, but it wasn't completely satisfying.

But that wasn't what I was thinking. I could've told him about what happened. That could be my only option. But the words vibrate through my ears and I remember it clearer than anything I've ever memorized.

"If you tell anyone, I'll drag this knife right across your skin,"