Bad Boy Addict

❁ 02. Bitch Better Have My Money ❁

I scream, but no sound comes out. The air in my lungs feels compressed as though the wind has been knocked out of me. My eyes are covered. That much I know to be true. I'm engulfed by darkness all around me and my arms remain still to my side, pinned to my ribs.

      "Stop struggling," one of them orders, causing me to jerk even harder. I buck my hips, swaying to the right and left for any sense of freedom. I'm rewarded with a sharp kick into my spine.

      "Hurry, I think I see someone coming around the corner," a deeper, heavier voice says.

      His breath fans my cheeks, coated in a minty tobacco scent. I hiss out in pain—though, just like before, the sound is inaudible. The wrap they have over me is tight against my mouth, sealing my lips together like adhesive glue. I can still see them; my eyes aren't shielded. As odd as it may seem, I'm grateful my eyes aren't covered. My hysteria will heighten tenfold if I can't see where I'm going. And in this case, I can memorize the faces of my assailants...that is if I make it out of here alive.

      They shuffle their feet into a dark ally, one holding me arms and the other grabbing my legs. I kick, yank, and struggle against their power. Fear makes a home in my chest, spreading to the rest of my body in a wave of heat.

      I'm going to die, I conclude, but don't settle with that as that my fate. If I don't get out of their reach soon, my hope will only fleet further into despair.

      They stop, lowering me to the asphalt. My shoulders go cold, coming in contact with moisture, seeping through my jacket. My gaze trails upward, finding a dumpster to my left. Black liquids leak from the bottom, swirling out from under its four wheels. I cry out once more, gaining a second kick.

      "Shut it," the one in the shades snarled.

      "Where is he?" the other inquires.

       "He says he's at a stoplight. He's on his way."

       Not very long after saying this, a black SUV with no plates and tinted windows rolls up at the entrance of the alleyway. Swiftly, I'm thrown inside and for the first time, the wrap around my mouth drops. I don't waste any time, yelling louder than I've had in my life. The scream gets cut short, being interrupted by a slam to my face. My head lulls to the side, absorbing the impact and the pain that dances on my skin.

      His shades are off, and at last, I see the full face of my abductor. I'd never seen such empty brown eyes before. No emotion, no remorse. I hold my breath for a beat before wailing once more, louder. It's met with another slap, grabbing my throat at the end and pinning me to the seat.

     "Another word from you and I'll cut this interrogation short and slit your throat, here and now."

      "Please, do it," I beg. "I'd rather that then whatever you men will do to me."

       "You say that now," he smirks. He turns around to the driver, giving him a nod. Looking at me from the rearview mirror, he nods back and motions to the person in the passenger seat. The driver hands over a thin needle, filled with a clear liquid.

      "Don't move. This will hurt, a lot." The man with the mustache changes positions, looming over me and yanking one of the sleeves of my jacket up, sailing the needle into my arm. Instantly, I squirm against his power, but it's no use. I'm being held down by him and his partner in crime. I don't weigh enough to push him with my strength.

      My jaw grows heavy, becoming lopsided. My eyes as well feel as though they're being held down by iron, forcing them to slam shut. I'm greeted once more by darkness, but a new kind. One with warmth-endless warmth, and security laced within its tight grip on me. I find freedom in my own mind. But just as I come in reaching distance of it, I fall into a deep, deep sleep.