Pyro

Chapter: II

𝙼𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢.

✣ ✣ ✣

drip, drip, drip

drip, drip

dripdripdripdrip

It's the consistent sound of dripping water somewhere near me that pulls me back to consciousness. A pained groan leave my lips as I lift my head up. My neck feels so sore, probably from the odd position it has been left in for who knows how long. With my head up I can catch a glimpse of where I am, not that there's a lot to look at.

Everything is dark. All I know is that it's not a place I've been before. The floor is cold to the touch which I realize as my knees are in direct contact with it. The cold rush from my legs and through the rest of my body, making goosebumps appear everywhere in a matter of seconds, sending shivers up my spine.

I don't have pants on.

That thought makes me feel violated in so many ways. What have they done to me? Did they only take of my pants or have they done other things, too?

I attempt to take a deep breath but the heavy, thick, and damp air in the room make it difficult to make it fulfilling. Leaving me with the assumption that the room is closed off tightly. I feel claustrophobic in here and it doesn't take long before any sense of calm leaves my body altogether and pure panic takes over.

I have to, no, need to, get out of here.

I make an attempt to stand up but fail miserably. Barely getting off my knees before my head knocks into something solid. At the same time, I pay attention to the constricted movement my arms have, and suddenly I realize they're in a spread out position. I try to pull my arms towards my sides but am only met with a clanking sound from the movement alone. Chains.

I'm tied to the wall with chains. Great.

Okay, uhm, how do I face this situation? Chains can be broken, right?

Nah, man, I'm not Captain America. Okay.

As the seconds tick by it gets harder to breathe when panic rages through my whole being. That mixed with the heavy air in the room is an awful combination. The panic feels like a raging fire that makes my mind a fluid mess and the unknowing of where I am and who's here only supplies it.

The restricted movement of my body sets off multiple alarms in my head but what makes me jump is the sudden musical tone that begins playing somewhere in the room.

Is that my phone?

The more it plays the more recognizable it is. It's funny how, with enough stress, you forget something like the sound of your own goddamn phone. I have no idea where it is but it sounds like it's coming from behind me and with my arms tied, I'm helpless.

Sobs break through me as it continues to ring before it stops and starts up again. I fucking hate this. I grit my teeth in annoyance. I even try to turn my head to see who's calling me but come up short before the sudden memories of what happened to get me here push me to the front of my mind.

Unease hits he hard when the call keeps ringing and ringing and ringing but never make it through.

His hand shoots out and roughly grabs onto the back of my neck, forcing my back to his chest before he presses a white cloth on my mouth.