Little Lamb

2 ❦ home sweet home, little Lola

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I had to run, I need to escape. I need to take this chance or I wouldn't know what else to do.
I raised my knee kicking him in the balls. The sudden impact of my kick caught him off guard, he let out a grunt, as he slightly doubled over in pain.

My eyes widened. He gritted his teeth as his eyes snapped towards me. Seizing the opportunity, I ran as fast as I could, my heart pounding every second.

But my freedom was short lived.

A sharp, searing pain tore through my leg, sending me crashing down to the ground with a cry of agony. He shot me. Tears welled in my eyes as I writhed in pain. My escape ruined by the cruel sting of a bullet.

Through the haze of pain, I saw him approach, his expression darkening with frustration. Retrieving his gun, he holstered it back with ease before striding over to where I lay, helpless and vulnerable on the cold ground.

Rain poured down my freezing body, the ground wet. I felt my sight slipping.

With a faint frown creasing his brow, I saw him knelt beside me, his movements fast as he held rope. He bound my legs, his voice carried a mixture of disappointment.

"Why did you have to make this difficult?" he muttered softly, as he secured the knots.

He lifted me up, pain shotting through my injured leg, I cried. I held on to consciousness, my vision swimming with tears. My hands clung to his armored chest, as he carried me back to the car. His grip firm on my thighs, the leather of his gloves on my skin.

I was afraid I was too heavy, never having been carried by a man before. But those were the least of my concerns.

Once inside, he secured me in the seat, his actions methodical as If I was nothing more than cargo.

My murmurs of pain went unanswered as he started the car, his gaze was fixed on the road ahead. The reflection of my bloodied leg in the rearview mirror seemed to mock the silence between us.

My blood soaked down to his seats, staining my legs. My body was covered with a thin jacket that was halfway sliding down my arm, I only wore a short dress, the feel of it already wetted with rainwater.

I couldn't remember where I was before I got taken. Those memories seem to have lost themselves. But there had to be a reason for why this was all happening, it couldn't be a coincidence.

A bullet was pierced through my lower leg, yet I felt the need to try to gain more information about my situation.

"Where- where are you taking me?" I whispered, my voice weak, barely audible over the hum of the engine.

"Home," he replied, his tone a void of emotion,

But home? I couldn't bring myself to believe him. Home was a distant memory, a place I hadn't seen in far too long. I had left, month's ago. I was tired of my mom, though I loved her she was selfish, I couldn't seem to understand why she was with my stepfather, he was a terrible man with money and full with greed. I needed to be free from them.

As he rummaged through the car, his silence weighed heavy, suffocating any hope of escape. I could only watch in despair as he drove into the night, the unknown stretching out before us like a dark abyss.

The rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the steering wheel echoed the relentless march of time, each beat a reminder of my captivity. His occasional glances in the rearview mirror served as a grim reassurance of my captivity, though I felt watched, intimidated by his aura. He has a hold over me, with those beautiful eyes.