Յյ 𝔇𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔬𝔣 ℌ𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔫 [𝔄 𝔗𝔚𝔖𝔗 𝔉𝔞𝔫𝔣𝔦𝔠]

𝟏𝟓 | 𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭

ʲᵉᵃˡᵒᵘˢ ˢᵘᶜᶜᵉˢˢ

𝔖𝔬𝔫𝔤: 𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔈𝔶𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔐𝔢 - 𝔒ℜ3𝔒

Warnings: kidnapping, implied death, phantoms

♥♠♣♦ ——　☠　—— ♥♠♣♦

ʏ/ɴ ʟ/ɴ. ᴍᴏᴅᴇʟ, ᴀᴄᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɪɴɢᴇʀ. ᴏɴ ꜰʀɪᴅᴀʏ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴀᴛ 8:30 ᴘᴍ, ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴍɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴇᴀ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀᴅɪɴᴀʀʏ. ɪꜰ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀɴʏ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴀᴄᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ.

♥♠♣♦ ——　☠　—— ♥♠♣♦

Y/N woke to the sound of a crackling fireplace and the feel of intense heat on her cheek. It quickly blossomed into the sort of burning sensation that came from standing near a heat source for a few hours too long. She gasped as she pulled herself away from the heat, far enough that the pain lessened, but not far enough that she could escape it entirely. She would have pulled away more if not for the coarse bonds around her wrists and ankles.

"Wha..." She pulled at her wrists, testing the limits of the rope. There wasn't any give at all, and as she squirmed, she could feel the edges of the twine digging into her skin, leaving angry burn marks. She gritted her teeth and pulled at her wrists, trying to lift them from the chair, but quickly discovered that they were much too strong for her.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk."

Y/N froze, slowly lifting her head to look around the room. Now that she was looking around, she could see just how strange her surroundings were. She was in what appeared to be some sort of dilapidated theatre from ages long gone. Elegant chairs with velvet cushions were aligned in neat rows before her, though some were missing, and some were covered in old cobwebs and stuffing that had been ripped from the cushions. She, however, was sitting on the stage, sitting beside an old fireplace that seemed to be nothing more than an old prop. Not far from where she sat, a large gaping hole opened up in the floor, and Y/N shivered at the sight of the jagged boards of wood. 

"I advise that you don't stress your bonds, darling. They'll leave terrible marks on your skin."

The voice sounded as though it was coming from the other end of the theatre and Y/N narrowed her eyes, trying to see into the void of darkness. The only light in the room flickered with the fire beside her, and even then, her shadow covered most of it. 

That was, until, with a sudden spark of magic, the light hanging over the exit suddenly sputtered to life, flickering with age. The thick layer of dust that had accumulated over the years cast a ghostly shadow on the scarlet carpet that ran down the length of the theatre, illuminating the small clumps of rubble that littered the ground, accompanied by what appeared to be forgotten cigarettes and cigars, and a few broken wine bottles.

But the most terrifying of all was the boy standing beneath the light, an eerie grin on his face. He held his pen in his hand, his pale fingers twirling it around as he took a step forward.

"Do you know where we are, darling," he purred. He glided towards the stage, his heels barely skimming the ground and carefully weaving around the piles of refuse. His cloak fluttered behind him, his brisk pace creating a soft breeze that rippled the violet fabric.