God, Was it Cold//Kidnapped by One Direction

2- Hell

Bianca must have been in hell. It was the only logical answer- she was burning hot, in pain, and not underwater anymore, so she must be dead already. She obviously wasn't good enough for heaven- could you go to heaven if you killed yourself? Probably not, she thought.

Opening her eyes, she found herself in a small bedroom. Laying on the bed, Bianca decided she must not be in hell yet- after all, it'd probably hurt a bit more, and she couldn't see any fire, which she half expected. The overwhelming warmth was coming from a huge electric blanket draped over her, and the pain came from her wrapped up foot, which she could barely make out in the dim light. The room had no overhead light- just a bedside lamp.

Realizing she wasn't dead at all, Bianca felt a huge weight seem to crush her chest. It was supposed to be all over! Why couldn't she just be dead- that's all she wanted.

But it occurred to her at that moment that she didn't know where she was. Not at home, not in a hospital- and when she remembered seeing the hand pull her up, it seemed male.

Bianca had a thing about hands, always looking at people's hands and remembering what people's hands looked like. Maybe it was because she was often praised for her hands- their nimble abilities to set wires and win at games of speed.

But she didn't remember ever seeing that hand before. It was very defined and muscular, and assuming that the person who the hand belonged to had taken her here, meant that he probably was too. A sense of fear rose up in her throat- she was here at a strange males house, injured. Why couldn't she just have died?

Pushing the blanket away, Bianca sat up. She wore the same shirt from earlier, but her legs were bare. Taking a deep breathe, she stood up on her uninsured foot, balancing carefully. Ever so gently, Bianca set her wrapped up foot on the ground and tried putting pressure on it. Pain shot up her leg, and she fell to the ground with a yelp.

The door slammed open as Bianca clutched her foot in pain, and before she could get a good look at the man she was scooped up and carried out.

Ignoring his face, she looked at his hands instead. She was sure- these were the same hands from on the bridge.

He dropped her on the couch, and ran to another room, talking loudly. Bianca was too wrapped up in her thoughts to try and hear.

Two other boys ran in, both shirtless. One of them immediately ran up to Bianca, and she cringed into the couch. He was muscular and a bit older than her, with large tattoos on his arms.

Comparatively, Bianca felt weak. She knew that what will her injuries, her lack of energy and overall weakness, she was defenseless against him. Wrapping her arms around her chest, Bianca tried to say something, but her throat was so sore she couldn't speak.

He bent down, and pulled her close to his chest. She tried to push away but he was too strong.

Why couldn't I just be dead? Bianca thought, clenching her fists.

"Amber.... My name's Louis. Your my little sister."