A timeless swirl of blackness enveloped your consciousness. For a blissful stretch, you were unaware of anything but the dull buzzing in your ears, the warmth that thawed your skin, no longer aching. You groaned as you started to awake. Your head pounded, but your body felt light as a feather, free of pain.
Light as a feather, except that you couldn't seem to move.
Why couldn't you move?
Your eyes fluttered open a smidge. You were met with nothing but grey all around. You turned your head, neck stiff. Nothing, just more and more grey. It was dark in here, wherever here was. Where were you, again?
One by one, memories resurfaced in your mind. It felt like trying to run in knee high water. Like faded photographs, you remembered the library, the subway. Everything was a blur - had you hit your head?
That thought was all it took - suddenly, with mortifying clarity, you began to recover your thoughts of the alleyway. Oh, shit. You had been attacked, fact. You shuddered as you recalled the way he had spoken to you, the sensation of your arm snapping. If you could move or see anything beyond this darkness, you would have checked to see if it was really broken. You felt so pain free that somehow you thought your mind could have been playing tricks on you.
Your attacker had been shot, you thought, though you weren't quite sure. There had been a loud noise, and he had fallen on top of you.
Then, it came to you. The final piece of your hazy memory - the man in the mask. Had he been the one to save you? Did it count as a rescue if he had violently knocked you out right after?
You had been knocked out. Fact. That explained the throbbing in your skull, if nothing else. Did the prick even realise how dangerous it was to knock a person out like that? If he had hit a bit too far back, he could have killed you.
Then again, maybe that had been his intention. Somehow you doubted it - he didn't seem idiotic enough to just not check for a pulse. Once again, his sheer calculation unnerved you. He had found you again, somehow, and now he was probably kidnapping you for God knows what reason.
It struck you, then; you must be in trunk of a car. It would explain the darkness, and now that you were more spatially aware you could feel that you were moving. The dull rumbling of an engine confirmed your fears. This was less than fucking ideal.
If you were being taken to a second location, you wouldn't stand a chance. At least, that's what people had always told you when they warned you about kidnappers and traffickers as a teenager - fight tooth and nail, they'd say, punch out a tail light. Don't let yourself be taken to a second location.
You were beginning to panic, disorientation making you dizzy. The air of the trunk was musty, you were beyond lightheaded. Your vision was starting to cloud over again, but you were determined to fight the black spots and stay awake. If you didn't, you doubted you'd ever know consciousness again.
You couldn't move, and you couldn't see why. But your fingertips and feet were starting to tingle, feeling coming back. You wriggled your hands as much as you could, finding something rough was wrapped around the backs of your hands - rope.
You were fucking tied up, in the trunk of a masked stalker's car, with no clue where you were or how long you had been knocked out. You needed out, and you needed out now. Adrenaline coursing hot through you veins, the sensation now a familiar one, you did the only thing you could; thrash around violently and scream bloody murder.
Your ears began to ring again as you thrashed around like a worm, accidentally whacking your head on one of the interior car walls. Pain started to throb through your probably broken arm as it was moved, the pain only sending you into more of a meltdown. The ropes wouldn't loosen. You could feel that they were wrapped harshly around your ankles now, too, as the sensation returned to your lower body.
You wailed into the nothingness for what felt like forever, throat dry and lungs screaming for you to stop. You wouldn't, you refused to be complacent.
Then, you felt the car begin to slow to a stop. You didn't stop your cathartic sobs even as you heard the slam of a car door, fear spurring you on. You had probably pissed him off, now. He was probably going to shoot you. The thought of dying here, in the trunk of a musty smelling car, was not a pleasant one. The sound of a key in a lock somewhere by your head. You screamed the loudest you had yet.
Scree-ee-eech
Cool air graced the exposed skin of your face and neck as the trunk was opened. You were only briefly met with the sight of his mask, illuminated by a streetlamp somewhere out of view. At least you were still in civilisation. Before you could register anything about your new surroundings, though, you were being hoisted up into a sitting position by strong hands. Your back was pushed against the trunk, forearm steady along your shoulders to keep you back, while a hand was clamped over your mouth. You were forced to take deep breaths through your nose, lungs finally getting the fresh air they had been begging you for.
Tears fell hopelessly down your face and onto his gloved hand, but the man didn't move his hand away. You didn't know where to look, didn't want to engage in yet another terrifying staring contest with those red eyes. Instead, you clamped your eyelids shut and prayed that this was just a bad dream.
You were expecting to be shot, or at least met with another weighty blow to the side of the head. No such impact came, however. Minutes ticked by in agonising anticipation, everything eerily silent. What was he waiting for?
The adrenaline began to subside. Just as you were working up the courage to open your eyes again, a voice sounded from above you.
"Better?"
You jumped, eyes snapping open against your will. You were of course met with the grating sight of the infernal fucking sad face from whence the demonic voice had come. Your breath hitched in your throat at the combination of terrifying sound and sight, whimpering.
Sensing that you were lapsing back into a panic, the man sighed robotically from behind the mask, shifting his stance so that he was half sitting on the edge of the car. Making himself comfortable. Not patronising at all.
You had another fit of crying, this one weaker than the last. You struggled and thrashed meekly against him, but were only pushed further back into the interior wall behind you.
An eternity passed. When you calmed down once more, you lapsed into a terrified, defeated silence. Though you were more alert now, fully awake, you now wished that you weren't. You felt moments away from giving up, adrenaline stores depleted.
The man had turned his mask away while you were freaking out, but now he very slowly and deliberately turned his hooded head back towards you. He seemed to be giving you notice this time, letting you catch on that he was about to speak. How considerate.
"I am going to move my hand." you still shivered at the sound, "If you scream, I will hurt you."
You could only gaze back at him in terror. Another beat of silence, before he moved. You let out a shaky breath as he removed the hand from your mouth, reaching into the trunk behind you for something. You hoped it wasn't a weapon, though you doubted he'd leave one in here with you. You didn't dare make a sound, whole body tense against the ropes. You had fallen into mental shock.
The sound of something ripping, before his hand was near your head again. In it, a piece of duct tape. You shook your head violently as he leaned towards you - not another freedom taken from you, please.
He hesitated for a moment as you pulled back your head, tears splattering onto your sweatshirt. Then, he moved the arm over your shoulders up and gripped your jawline harshly, "Calm down." He held your head steady and slapped the duct tape over your mouth, pushing up so that your jaw stayed shut while he did so.
The man moved back and stood, towering over you at his full height. Your eyes widened as he reached up for the lid of the trunk, moving to slam it back down again and submerge you back into darkness. You whimpered from behind the tape. Surely he should have caught on by now - you were claustrophobic as shit. That was why you always refused to take both the elevator at your apartment complex, and at your school. You doubted the masked fucker would care, though. He probably got a kick out of seeing you so desperate.
His masked head tilted, seeming to consider you for a long moment. Then, before you could register what was happening, he leaned back in and grabbed you. You only tensed further at the contact as he dragged you towards him and hoisted you over his shoulder efficiently, slamming the trunk closed the moment you were out of it.
Before you knew it, you were being dumped through an open car door and into the back seat. The leather cushioning was far comfier than the hard floor of the trunk had been, and a lot better smelling - you couldn't help but notice. The man leaned over you once more, filling you with fear. He only reached by your head, grabbing the seatbelt and buckling you in firmly like a child. If these were normal circumstances and your legs weren't bound, you would have kicked him in the shins for his sheer audacity.
He slammed the door next to you shut, making his way around the front of the car and climbing gracefully into the driver's seat. You noticed, as he turned on the ignition, that the glowing analog clock up front read 8:53pm. You didn't know the exact time you had lost consciousness, but you figured it was at least three hours ago. Where was he taking you?
You were expecting the man to start driving, as one normally does when they turn on a car engine. Instead, he leaned to one side and grabbed something out of the passenger seat. You gulped as he brought the object up between the two seats, a show of intimidation. He reloaded his gun effortlessly, making sure you could see every movement. You leaned back in the seat, squirming as far away from the thing as you possibly could.
He didn't move to point the weapon at you, though. He wordlessly placed the gun back down on the passenger side, turning back to the front and taking off the hand brake. Message clear: don't try anything. You understood perfectly. He moved the car back onto the dark road, driving off. You gazed at the streets as they passed, looking for something familiar. A landmark, a street sign. Anything.
Time and streets passed agonisingly slowly, to little avail. The only information you had gathered in twenty shellshocked minutes of driving was that you were still in your city. Relief flooded through you at the realisation, though it still didn't make much sense. What had happened to you in the three hours you were out?
It was then that you realised the condition of your arm. The probably broken one. You looked down at your bound torso, confused realisation hitting you like a truck. Your arm was in a fucking cast. What the flying fuck? Had this dickhead randomly taken you to a hospital, getting you in and out again without you waking up and nobody questioning it? Seemed fucking unlikely.
You lifted your bound legs up, too, trying to get a good look at your feet as you remembered your fucked up ankle. Your shoes were missing, you noticed for the first time, and you only had one sock. The other foot, your left one, was taped up tightly. A much better job than the one you had done in the mall bathroom. Was this motherfucker a doctor or some shit? You hadn't been treated with very much hospitality.
You had no clue what to make of it. Here you were, tied up, in the back seat of a masked stalker's car, the threat of getting shot being dangled silently over your head, yet you had been treated for your injuries. While you were unconscious. Because he had knocked you the fuck out. After saving you from a rapist?
What a fucking evening.
—
After a mind numbing hour of driving, the masked man had turned onto a familiar, traffic-filled street. Hold on a fucking minute - this was the main road right by your apartment. You realised, with a flicker of hopeful anxiety, that you were within a ten minute walk of your own front door. This could be your chance.
He had a gun, true, but the sight of a familiar road filled you with determination. Besides, was he really going to shoot you while driving a moving vehicle? Maybe, but you'd take your chances. Your breathing became heavy as you screwed your courage to the sticking place, preparing yourself to bang your good arm against the window as best you could within your restraints. Someone in one of the passing vehicles would surely notice you - you were bound and gagged, after all. Not exactly an inconspicuous sight on a Monday evening.
You raised your arms up, steadying yourself-
"The windows are tinted. Don't be fucking annoying."
You sent a startled glance to the front of the vehicle. While you were busy riling yourself up, the masked man had tilted his rear view mirror to where you sat. He was glaring at you through it, now - or at least, that's what it looked like. You couldn't tell. With a squeak, you set your arms back down on your lap and sunk further down into the black leather seat. You couldn't tell if he was angry or amused, the robotic voice changer blocking all emotion. His words could have been intended either way. Both options were fucking creepy.
You could only watch in disbelief as he pulled into the underground parking lot of your apartment complex. He turned into the guest parking space, a little nook in the dim concrete room that was entirely empty at this time of night. What the hell was going on?
As he he turned off the engine, the man reached for your phone. He must have grabbed it when you ran from the library. Did this fucker ever miss a detail? Apparently not - you blanched as he effortlessly punched in your passcode (while wearing gloves, mind you), and opened the dialler. He pressed on Harry's contact: Haz-dog.
You listened in confusion as your brother presumably picked up the phone, almost immediately. As if he had been expecting you to call.
The masked man spoke into your phone, "Harold. Come to the guest parking lot. Alone."
Normally, you would have snickered at the use of your sibling's full name. You couldn't even if you wanted to right now, though - duct tape, and all. You could just barely hear Harry's voice on the other end of the line, he sounded panicked. Who wouldn't be, hearing a fucking demon answer the phone in place of their sister.
"Yes," the masked man responded to whatever Harry had said, "she's right here."
Harry said something again, you could hear that he was angry. The masked man only let out a fed up sigh, before flicking the phone onto loud speaker. He extended the phone in your direction, not even glancing over his shoulder at you as he commanded, "(Y/n)."
The way your name rolled off of his robotic tongue sent a spike of unease through your body. You couldn't speak properly, but knowing that Harry was on the other end of the line prompted you to start screaming muffled words at the phone. I'm here! I'm right here!
You heard Harry's voice brighten up, "(Y/n)! Are you alright!?" The sound of his voice brought tears to your eyes, as you continued to yell against the duct tape.
The masked man suddenly jerked your phone away from you, switching it to his other hand as he reached for the gun on the seat next to him. You couldn't see the weapon this time, but you winced as the sound of the safety clicking off filled the vehicle. Harry had been in mid sentence, but he stopped cold at the sound.
"Guest parking lot, Harold. You know what will happen if you call the police."
And with that, he hung up the phone.