Don't Talk To Anyone | BOOK 2

fourty one

Elle McBriar
May 22nd,
1 year and 179 days since the first zombie report

I had woken up minutes before and I was trying to rap my mind around what was happening.

I was in a moving vehicle. A car, I figured out. But I was in the trunk.

My hands and ankles were tied and my mouth was gagged.

Shit.

Suddenly, we stopped, and so did my heart. Oh my God I'm going to die.

I closed my eyes as I heard voices and shoes scraping against concrete. The trunk opened and I was picked up by the rope of my hands.

I fell to my knees and winced in pain, the guys laughed.

"Looky here boys, we finally got her. Boss is going to be happy."

Guys I didn't recognise. But they had the same 'M' tattoo carved into their necks.

I mumbled out some words and was slapped across the face, "You don't talk."

Okay then, not up for conversation.

I was dragged by my feet into a place I didn't recognise. I didn't even know if we were still in Washington.

There was loud rock music playing and the smell of weed lingered in the air. I choked on the stench and was elbowed in the back, "Keep walking blonde."

I frowned, I'm not blonde. I'm dusty brunette.

I was shoved into a dark room, with only a small swinging light to guide my way. I got flashbacks of Tyler and Jared and wanted to cry.

Especially when I saw the operating table.

But, I was turned again and was led into a hallway. A nice hallway actually. Velvet carpet, wooden walls, pictures of France and Italy hung up.

It gave me 'devil' vibes. Especially the low hanging red light that was on.

We passed shit load of doors until we got to the one at the end.

Scarface, I decided to name him, knocked on the door and I heard a mumbled 'come in'.

The door was opened and my eyes squinted at the harsh light.

A man with short cropped hair sat at a large business chair. Granted, that's all I could see because his chair was faced the other way.

"She's here boss."

"Good."

I was pushed to my ass on the comfortably couch and my ankles were handcuffed to the couch leg.

"Leave us." I recognised that voice. But from where?

The chair spun around and my eyes widened. Oh fuck.

"Elle, lovely to see you again."

He walked over to me and pulled the gag out of my mouth, tilting my chin up so I'd look at him.

"How are you alive, Mason. I shot you." I hissed, glaring at his stupid face.

"You see, that's the god thing about bullet proof vests. They always do the job."

I rolled my eyes and flopped back onto the couch.

He sat back on his chair and crossed his arms, "If you think that chair makes you look cool, it doesn't. You look stupid." I insulted. He remained calm.

"Thanks for the criticism." He spoke back, "What do you want with me? Was beating the ever living shit out of me and then leaving me to die not enough?" I spat.

He let out a sinister chuckle, "Of course not my dear. It certainly wasn't enough vengeance. Considering you killed my mother and left the rest of them to die."

"For the last time, I didn't kill Tracy." I hissed. I should've kept my mouth shut.

I spat out blood onto his shoe as I realised he'd slapped me across the face, hard.

"Did your mother never teach you not to hit a woman?" I said. He flinched, I hit a nerve. Good.

"Don't ever speak about my mother like you knew her." He glared, "Whatever Mason. You're pathetic."

I chilled on the couch, awaiting his next move, "You seem awfully calm for someone who's about to die?"

I looked up at him to see his smirk grow, "I'm going to die? Oh fuck- finally! I've been waiting." I said, clapping my hands together, pathetically.

He stayed quiet.

I lifted up both hands to block my face from was the flying thing object he threw at me.

"Nice aim dingus." I snorted, looking to the owl paperweight on the floor beside my feet.

"Get up your stupid bitch." He mumbled. Mason grabbed my by my ponytail and yanked me down, making me yelp in pain.

He shoved the gag back into my mouth as I screamed in agony at the devastating blow to my stomach. 

It felt like my insides were about to come out of my body.

"Mitch, fingers, get in here." Scarface and fuckface entered the room, hands behind their backs.

I had tears pooling in my eyes as the two 'body guards' pulled me up and dragged me out of the room.

I could hear Masons ragged footsteps behind me and I feared for my life now. I know I said I was ready to die, but I wanted to get married first.

I looked down to the engagement ring on my finger and tucked it away, so it didn't catch the eye of Mason-the-wanker.

I was thrown into a room, face first. I hit my mouth on the ground and wanted too kill myself. My teeth hurt.

"You come here, insult me, insult my mother, even insult my chair. You think you're so tough. You're the coward. Little bitch." Mason spat, glowering over me as I
crawled over to the wall, cowering in the corner like a little child.

He came over to me and picked me
up again. The gag was still in my mouth, I couldn't get it out even if I tried.

Mitch and fingers were smirking, standing with their hands crossed behind their back, waiting for Masons blows.

His brass knuckles made an appearance again. And again, and again.

So did his police stick, taser and 3 other men.

To say I was pretty 'beat' by the end of the day was an understatement.

I didn't want too move, or speak, or breath. It hurt to blink.

I stayed in a ball on the floor, hugging my knees as I silently cried to the sound of my own slowing heartbeat.

* * *

hiiii
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