Imprisoned Affair

Two

My eyes slowly crack open and I immediately feel the back of my head throbbing. An intense pain settles in one specific spot at the back of my skull and I can't help but wonder what the hell could've caused it.

Wait a second. Where am I?

I was lying down on a huge California king bed with gold and white sheets. I have a double bed and I don't own gold sheets. 

On my left, there was a closet door and a white nightstand right next to the bed. In the left corner in front of me was a desk with a mirror; almost like a vanity.

I slowly get up, wincing at the sudden shot of pain I get due to that. I go to the right side of the room where there were red and gold curtains. Wherever I am, I was about to leave. I slide the curtains open and I'm left in complete shock.

I place my hand on the beige wall behind the curtain. There isn't even a window. The curtains were hung up for either decor or false hope and torture. Panic immediately sets in and I can feel my heart beat faster and louder as it pumps adrenaline throughout my body.

After a small dose of fear from seeing this, suddenly all these memories from the night before rush to me. Now, I was having a full-on panic attack; I need to get out of here.

I momentarily ignore the pain as I run to the brown door at the front of the room. Just as my hand wraps around the doorknob, I hear a clicking sound. Then another. Someone was unlocking the door.

I evaluate my options and settle on the one with the safest outcome. I go into panic mode and run back to the bed and pretend to be asleep. I try to take in one deep breath and to control my shaking body. I keep my head facing the wall so that they won't see my face. After the third clicking sound, the door opens and the wood floorboards creek as several people walk into the room up to the bed. I keep my eyes completely shut out of fear and not wanting them to know I'm actually awake.

I feel a presence behind me as I'm facing the left side and they are to the right of the bed.

"So, how much?" The same deep voice from last night speaks, sending shivers down my spine.

Another voice, a man's voice, with an obvious British accent says, "Jesus what did you do to her? The back of her head's swollen as big as a baseball innit. We can't give her like this to anyone; what will that say about our business?"

"I had no choice. She actually got away from me. No one else has done that, I freaked out and I didn't know what to do." The deep voice speaks again and I jump slightly. I imagine a gigantic 6-foot-5 man with a long beard and huge muscles. Judging by how quickly he over powered me last night, my guess was right.

"I have to check with Dexter again to make sure everything is still good. If not, we'll have to find someone who's willing to take her for cheap. Discount for damaged goods." Laughs the British man. What is going on? Surely they're not talking about me? I'm goods? I don't know what they're planning to do to me but I try to contain my adrenaline. If these men didn't sound like two huge mammoths for men, then I would make a run for the door.

There's a long pause before the man with the deep voice says, "Well, can't I just bring her back out?" YES. YES YOU CAN! Okay so maybe getting hit in the head wasn't so bad. It might be my saviour.

The man with the British accent laughs loudly, sarcastically. "It's too late for that, it's either you take her or Gerard kills her."

Kills. Me. With those words, my eyes open wide and my head turns towards the men. For the first time, I can see them. There was a very muscular man wearing a black turtleneck and black jeans with piercing blue eyes. He had a strong jawline and a little stubble. No beard and not as tall as I pictured in my head, but still significantly taller than I was. He was holding up a can in his hand as he stared at me with wide eyes. Next to him was an older man with a bald head holding 3 grey hairs. His blue and white tuxedo stretches as the buttons try to contain his stomach fat.  That was all I got to see because I only had about a second to see them before...

*Bang*

I open my eyes again, this time remembering every single detail from before I got knocked out. Did he really knock me out with a damn can of soup?

My head was throbbing so bad and I've never felt such an intense pain as the one I was living through right now. I'm pretty sure the back of my head is-
Oh my... with my index finger I feel a massive lump on the back of my head that instantly makes me cringe as soon as I touch it.

"You were out for three days, I thought I would have to bring you to a hospital." The deep voice echoes behind me by the left side of the bed.

I turn around instantaneously and my eyes look into his with fear.

"Where am I? And why the fuck do you keep knocking me out?" I crawl back as far as I can to the right side of the bed so I can put as much distance as I can between me and the man in the black turtleneck. I wasn't sure what I should be feeling now. Was he part of the police or something? Some kind of dark-web version of them? Was he sent to kill me for what my friends and I did?

His piercing blue eyes look into mine as he answers, " I can't tell you where you are but sorry for knocking you out so many times; you're stubborn you won't stay asleep so.."

"Yeah so put me in a fucking comma." I answer sarcastically. I don't know where all this attitude suddenly came from at first but then I realized why. I thought I was sad and scared, but no, I was angry. I was mad. How dare they just scoop me up from the street as if I were some kind of animal? And now they're calling me goods? I finally got my priorities straight. I decided that I was going to leave my sadness behind and start my future somewhere else. I knew where I was going for once. I was happy. Yet somehow, life seems to always keep me trapped. For once, I didn't want to end my life. My voice was shaky and I wasn't sure what I wanted to ask next. So many emotions came rushing to me and I became so overwhelmed I began crying. I was scared, nervous, mad... "Are you going to kill me? I swear, I didn't mean to do it. I was basically forced. Just put me in jail. Surely what I did is not worth being killed over."

"I'm not going to kill you. Wait, who do you think I am?" He asks, smiling. As if this was funny to him. I was amusing him, for some reason this was a joke. He was smiling, about to laugh, meanwhile I was tearing up, about to shit my pants. "I'm not a cop. I can't put you in jail, Sweetheart." I cringe at his nickname for me.

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Nothing. And you're lucky."

"Yeah cus getting kidnapped against your will and getting hit in the head repeatedly is so fucking lucky." I retort.

"You know, your sarcasm is gonna have to stop or.." his jaw clenches and he takes a step closer towards me. My body feels a third the size of his so I don't even try retaliating or answering him; I raise my brows in fear and hunch my shoulders inwards as if almost to protect myself. My attitude might get me hurt or killed but I don't care. He took away my future and I was pissed. I was hurt. But, I want to be smart about this and at least try to think of a way of getting out. With his size, all he had to do was flick a finger and it would break my arm. He scared me, actually. Did I push it? Did I say too much and he would try to shut me up? I look up into his eyes searching for his next move. The blue voids staring back at me were blank- empty. I can almost feel him thinking. Thinking of how weak I look.