Hit By A Smooth Criminal

struck by a smooth criminal

I had just finished by long and exhausting shift at work, my exhaustion etched into the lines of my face like a map of forgotten dreams. My body ached and my mind yearned for the comfort of my bed. As the clock struck midnight, I bid farewell to my coworkers and ultimately decided to that a risky shortcut home because I craving the warmth of my bed like a sailor yearning for land after a storm.

"Be careful when walking home, Y/N, there's been a lot of kidnaps and disappearances around this part of of town - if you wanted I could drive you home if you'd like" Announced my fellow co-worker in a concerned voice.

As I looked back at my co-worker I let out a faint smile and replied "Now, don't worry about me, it would cause you too much of a hassle driving me home at this late hour, maybe next time if I don't work a late shift." 

I closed the door behind me and headed for a journey home that I was never going to forget.

The shortcut I chose to get home was a twisted maze of graffiti-covered walls and flickering street lights, casting eerie shadows that seemed to whisper secrets of the night. With each step my heart pounded like a drum in a forgotten ritual, urging me to quicken my pace. As I turned around a figure emerged from the darkness with eyes like shards of shattered glass, but with a hint of warmth and innocence almost like those of a deer. Before I could say anything a feel of discomfort radiated through my mind like a million needles jabbing at my skin. The impact reverberated like a discordant symphony, each note a sharp stab of agony, leaving me momentarily lost in a whirlwind of unsteadiness and confusion.

-Hours Later-

I awoke in a dimly lit basement, my hands bound tightly with rough rope that chafed her skin like a serpents kiss and duct tape which covered my mouth and hindered my breathing. Confusion clouded my mind like a storm brewing on the horizon, my memories fragmented like shards of a broken mirror. A throbbing headache pulsed throughout my head, a relentless reminder of the violence that had just befallen me.

Suddenly, the creak of the stairs echoed through the silence, sending a shiver down my aching spine. The basement door swung open, revealing a figure bathed in the sickly glow of a flickering bulb. It was Michael Jackson. A notorious drug dealer who I had seen briefly saw on the news a couple of months ago after breaking out of Prison for the billionth time. He now made an appearance on the list for America's Top 10 Most wanted Fugitives and was now on the run to avoid getting a death sentence.

"Sleeping beauty's finally awoken from her slumber, i see," Michaels voice was as smooth as silk, his gaze piercing through the shadows like a blade.  "You took quite a hit back there, normally I don't like using acts of violence to apprehend my targets, but i didn't want big to cause a big scene and cause attraction due to the somewhat delicate situation I'm in right now." Michael stated.

I tried to let out a sound but the only thing that came out was "Hmmphhh" my voice was muffled.

Laughter erupted from his lips like a burst of confetti, carrying the sheer joy and innocence of what seemed like a child at play. "Oh right, I forgot I duct taped your mouth, Oh boy do you look stupid right now" joked Michael.

He removed the duct tape from my mouth gently so that it wouldn't hurt me, then his features, once alight with laughter now settled into a mask of seriousness. The twinkle in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a steely gaze that seemed to pierce though the facade of frivolity.

"Now, let's get to business" he verbalised in a lower tone of voice.