This is really short, I'm so sorry, but I felt that if I kept writing I would go on hiatus. I like how this story is turning out, I hope you do so as well and promise that I'll hurry as much as possible. Thank you for reading!
Warnings: none (reader is threatened with a gun, but she's ok)
Word count: 322You looked at your watch and tapped your feet nervously, the train you were supposed to get on was now five minutes late and the voice on the PA announced that it would probably take other fifteen minutes to arrive.
You didn't have fifteen minutes.You looked at your watch one last time and turned around to leave the subway station. You moved as quickly as possible, slithering through the crowd and mouthing "sorry" every time you bumped into someone, earning protests and dirty looks now and then.
A moment kept going and finally caught sight of the stairway but before you could reach it someone caught you."Easy there, kid" the solemn voice of a stranger called.
The man had got hold of your shoulder with one hand and you didn't dare to do anything, for you'd already felt the gun barrel against your back.
"I was just heading back, I swear. But the train was late, and—" on the brink of tears, you gulped and inhaled sharply "please don't do anything"
He pressed the barrel harder against your spine, ordering you to move "let's go. Don't try anything"
The two of you climbed the rest of the stairs and disappeared inside a white sedan.* * *
It couldn't have been more than a ten minute drive but for you it felt like hours. You could now see the man who'd taken you: he was tall, with white hair and beard and a bored expression; he wouldn't look at you much and whenever he did you'd turn your gaze away immediately. You would then look at the city outside the car window and bit your lower lip in a failed attempt to stop chattering your teeth in fear.
Such was your worry and discomfort that you didn't even notice you were heading the wrong way."Let's go, kid" you jumped at the sound of his voice and hesitantly got out of the car.
