𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 ➳ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

Chapter 2 ~ How Not To Escape from a Psycho

The smell of something burning filled my nose, waking me up. My dark brown eyes flew open and I turned over where I lay. Where was I? What had happened? A crackling fire blazed before me in what appeared to be a small clearing in the forest. Ugh, my head ached...

Suddenly, my memories returned to me. One of the Wolves had taken me, kidnapped me. I sat up hurriedly and tried to move my hands. Then with a sinking feeling, I realized my hands and feet were bound. I sighed. He was smart, I'd give him that.

But how would I escape? I couldn't stay here. He would kill me for sure if I did. No, it was best not to find out what he wanted. I struggled to untie the ropes. Groaning inwardly, I glanced over at the fire burning brightly.

An assortment of survival gear had been thrown down on the forest floor haphazardly including a small green bulging duffel bag. Leaning myself down onto my stomach, I crawled over to it. I unzipped it, careful not to make a sound unless he returned. Dented cans of food and random junk filled the small bag. I dug around in it until my fingers felt something sharp. I grinned as I pulled a compact pocket knife out.

Hastily, I cut the ropes that held me captive. The frayed cords fell to the dusty ground soundlessly. I rubbed my sore wrists absentmindedly as I stood up, ready to run. The sound of a gun cocking made me stop dead in my tracks.

"Stop right there or I'll shoot. Just...be still," a man who I assumed to be the Wolf said, "Turn around slowly,"

I cursed in my head. I hadn't been fast enough. Hesitantly, I obeyed his order and turned to face him. Finally, I got a good look at the Wolf who'd been chasing me. He had tangled dark brown shaggy hair that barely reached his shoulders and his chocolate-brown eyes were framed by dirt covering his skin with a large "W" initial carved into his forehead. He wore faded jeans, a plain black t-shirt paired with a dark green jacket, and a sharktooth necklace around his neck. But what most caught my eye was the gun he had pointed at me.

I swallowed, my hands held up in surrender. I had nowhere to go and no weapon to use against him. I dared not hope he'd spare my life. But I did hope he'd end it quickly and not torture me. I couldn't stand that kind of pain.

"If you're going to kill me, just do it," I said, my voice sounding much calmer than I felt.

He smirked then and shivers ran down my spine.

"Now why would I want to do a thing like that?" he asked, "No, I have other plans for you..."