Katya Edition: Second Edition

Forty Eighth Corpse: What Could Be So Dangerous? (1)

"Lemme help you: it's nonexistent."

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Forty-Eighth Corpse | What Could Be So Dangerous? (1)

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[Z-Day+22 | May.06 | 12:01HRS]

When I woke up, my head was pounding, and the sound of an engine was right beside my ear causing me more pain than I was already in. The pain was debilitating and beside the throbbing, there was nothing else I could focus on. I felt disoriented and confused, my eyes pricking with pain each time I blinked and light hit it. It was a pain that shot straight to my head and seemed to multiply, making a groan slip out of my lips as I tried to reach up and cover my ears or eyes—both, if I could. My hands wouldn't budge, and I blinked slowly with a frown when I realized that I was tied up like a hunted game, my hands and feet bound together. The bindings didn't allow for the slightest bit of movement, cutting deep into my skin each time I so much as twitched my limbs.

As alarmed as I was, I couldn't muster enough concentration to try and figure out what was happening, and without my consent, my body slackened as I once again lost consciousness.

The second time I woke up, it was to someone's hands playing with my hair and I was much more alert and focused, my pain having ebbed a great deal until there was only a slight ache. If you asked me how long I was asleep for, I couldn't tell you. But what I could say was that I was in trouble.

This is a kidnapping.

Remembering the moments prior to my kidnapping, I clenched my teeth until my jaw was aching noticeably. Mia's blood spreading out around her head replayed in my head and I felt my heart twist. She'd tried to warn me and even shoved me out of the way. Damn it...

"You're finally awake," A gentle but unfamiliar voice spoke from above me, and I turned my head to face the person speaking, the one who was stroking my hair like I was some kind of pet to them. It was a boy, probably around my age or a bit older. He had straight, reddish-brown hair which fell down around his face and neck, and bright brown eyes framed by thick eyelashes that would probably make many a woman envious. I wasn't one of them. The moment I saw his eyes, I felt myself flinch. Those eyes...were too much like Dom's. This boy was not bad-looking at all—I'd even call his appearance charming. I couldn't see the full thing, but he was wearing a dress shirt which was neat and impeccably clean and with it he even wore a neatly laid tie. It gave him a studious, responsible look. But his eyes which were curved to complement a warm smile only made me feel a chill. I'd spent enough time with unapologetic sociopaths and psychos to recognize them—the eyes were the giveaway. If you ignored whatever else there was to their appearance and singled out their eyes, you would see something cold, dead and terrifying, something capable of making your hair stand on end, an innate sense of danger and an instinct to run as fast and as far as you possibly could.

That was exactly what I felt when I laid eyes on this boy.