Confetti It's A PARADE! Of Supernatural Imagines.

Caught Staring Part 2

As the strange man pulled you behind him, you glanced around looking for anyone to help you. However, the customers were all invested in their groups, and the workers in the kitchen were too busy cheering on a fight playing on the small TV in the corner. You were completely and utterly at the mercy of this man.

"Please, let me go." You pleaded, trying to pull your hand from his grasp, but he tugged hard, and you fell to the ground, your knees connecting with the hard cement step.  Moaning as the pain radiated through your body, you sat there, not wanting to move.

"Why would I let you go? I've been looking for a way to get the attention of the Winchesters, and you fell right into my lap." He cackled, that was the only way you could describe that sound. Grabbing you by your hair, he forced you back to your feet as you squealed in pain.

"The Winchesters? I don't know anyone by that name." You sobbed, standing on your tiptoes, trying to relieve some of the pain he was causing. He just laughed again, before slamming you into the wall, his hand dropping from your hair to wrap itself around your neck.

"Don't lie to me girl. You were just eye fucking the younger brother back there in the bar." He sneered, his ugly, scar riddled face close enough to yours that you could smell his unwashed odor waving off of him.

"Sam?" You said through clenched teeth, holding yourself back from gagging.

"Ding, ding, ding. We've got a smart one." He remarked, slamming your head back against the wall, and you swore you could see stars.

"But I don't really know him. I just had one drink with him." You pleaded, hoping once he would see the truth he would let you go.

"I saw the way he was looking at you. He has a thing for you." He answered, his hand tightening on your neck, and you could only gasp as your supply of air was cut off. "I know. Let's move this somewhere else." He answered, before slamming your head against the wall once again, and you knew no more.

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"Wakey, wakey." A deep voice said in your ear as a hand ran up your leg, squeezing hard enough that you knew you would bruise. 

Opening your eyes you moaned as the pounding in your head resumed, coming from the back of your head. The man was standing in front of you, his head level to yours, his putrid breath causing your stomach to rumble queasy. Wanting him to take a step back, you tilted your head back, before swinging it forward with all your might. Your forehead connected with his nose, hurting you almost as much it hurt him.

He staggered back, clutching his nose. "You bitch!" He cursed, before pounding his hands together, showing you that you might have just made a huge mistake. "You're going to pay for that." he warned.

He made sure you regretted your decision. Everywhere his fists could touch he made sure they connected with your skin. Many times he hit hard enough to draw blood, breaking the skin near your eye, and your lip.

It seemed like hours before he stepped back, a joyous look on his face. "Now that looks better." He said, but all you could do was sit there, your head drooping to your shoulders. Every square inch of you hurt, and you still had no idea why he would torture you this way.

"Let's talk." He said, grabbing another chair and pulling it close to you. While he was busy with the chair, you focused on the small, dingy room you were trapped in. The walls were concrete, windowless, with nothing on them giving you any indication as to where you were. Two stairs lead to the only door in the room, a steel door with a deadlock. You weren't sure what was behind you, but you were sure there was probably nothing to help you back there.