*Story containes MATURE & EXPLICIT CONTENT*
THIS IS A SEQUEL / PART 2.
Read "Stall" before this book, unless you just like spoiling things for yourself. If that's the case, you do you boo.
"Something can be both delicate and violent"
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Harry lowe...
A/N: I'm sooo damn sorry this is a couple days late - life buggered up time I had to write, and this turned out to be WAY longer than I anticipated. But now here we are! Thank you for your patience (and my bad your author is a useless noodle.)
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So as it turns out, I am not a professional escape artist.
Who knew?
Being hung upright by your wrists is hard enough when you're in a moving vehicle, let alone dealing with that and trying to figure out how to fucking MacGyver your way out of your hands and feet being tied up.
The trip to wherever we were going in this van left me time for my mind to start tricking my body into thinking it was experiencing this whole scenario as a reality. Logically I knew I was safe... but it was doing these weird things to my senses.
It's similar to that feeling when Harry would take his switchblade and drag it over my stomach - I knew he wouldn't actually hurt me, and yet somehow that subconscious adrenaline was happening as if a real danger was really there.
Actually, it's like when you're on a rollercoaster and you plummet down from a high drop. You know you aren't actually falling to your death but your body and emotional side of your brain still reacts as if you are.
Or like when you watch a horror movie, you know there isn't a serial killer in your living room yet you still physically react as if there is.
Well... in my case a serial killer is actually in my living room - but that isn't the point.
My pulse didn't really start going uncontrollably haywire until I felt the van come to a stop, and park. That's when the anticipation really set in.
I was definitely still in the exact same position he left me in.
So if this situation was actually real, I guess that grand genius plan I had would've been to just bloody die at this point.
Good job Abby.
Gold star for you, dumbass.
Not being able to see made all my other senses ten times more sensitive, every sound, smell and ever sensation I could feel.
I heard shuffling from the front seat, and then the sounds of Harry climbing over it towards the back.
