Twine Restraints

Ceramic

A/N: I just noticed this, but sometimes I forget about paragraphs....so, sorry, bear with me ^.^ ALSO, guys, I am so incredibly sorry I could cry that I have not updated in so long. Some stuff happened, and stuff, so it was literally impossible for me to acess a device and update for two months. THANK YOU BROS WHO COMMENTED ON THE OTHER CHAPTER THIS IS FOR YOU!! P.S go listen to cool music it is good because cool music is better than not cool music.
My face stings. But it's cold in this room. I can hear the whir of the machinery that resides in the room in which my back is on the floor, the room where I can't move or breathe or speak. Maybe I could slide my hand around a little bit, and feel what is so cold on my delicate skin. Ceramic flooring, just like at home, but this is not my house, and these are not my favorite Black Butler pajamas with my favorite robe draped over my shoulders.
I don't understand, how am I wearing new clothes, that smell like cigarettes. Somebody sloppily shoved my boots on my feet, which contained my secret box of Camel Lites. The smell on my clothes was not my own, and there is a slight twinge of my mother's old rose perfume, but mom thinks it's gross now, and this is certainly not an outfit I would ever wear. It looks kind of red and black, and shows too much skin. I mean, the top is a red corset with a see-through lace boddess, and teeny black roses embeded, and the bottom is matching underwear. Suddenly I can move, but I don't know whether I should. Maybe if I slid myself across the floor to that corner where the screen door can't see me.

"GOD DAMMITT OUCH!! YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT OW!", I scream.

You'd probably never guess what ripped the back of that corset top and my skin open, so Ima tell you... Yeah, A FUCKING SHARD OF MY MUG. Still, I need to get in the corner. "Ow", I stand up, and walk to the corner where a table with a lighter, a sewing kit, and a bottle of diet Pepsi are organized in a row. Relaxing is good in these situations, I grab my cigarettes from the converse boots, and sew the rip closed. Then I snap the little button-y thingy on the lighter and see a candle from the light the fire provides, and light hte candle, and the waiting cigarette that's dangling from my mouth. My black lipstick and eye makeup feel like they've been recently applied, but I was kidnapped before I could personally do it myself. I puff smoke into the musty air and hear a faint creek from the screen door where a boy-looking human is thrown near a puddle of my blood, which reminds me that I'm more than likely still bleeding. He sticks his hand in the blood and coughs softly.

"Hey, you, that's my blood, I don't recomend touching it". And the guy smiles, like, a creepy Jeff the Killer smile. {No offense Jeff} {None taken, Link} It was somewhat adorable. And familiar.

"Evan! Care to share that Lite"? That voice-- it's fucking Fletcher-- I freak out and scramble to find something to cover myself. He gets up and walks over to me, only to grab a phone from the table and use it to light up my body. Obviously I'm to scared to do anything when he starts playing 'Dance With The Devil' by Breaking Benjamin- which is our song by the way-, and pins my arms over my head and puts his face like, really close to my boobs, which is not okay. I try to squrim away, but he presses himself on me, and softens his grip.

Fletcher takes the cigarette from my mouth and takes a drag, but turns his head to puff away from my face, and puts it out on the wall. My life-long crush nips my ear and whispers "It's all a show, and I'm so sorry, but they're watching, and they want to see us together". "No way, I'm cutting out of that screen", I say with my emotinless face. Sadly, he continues to check me out, and kinda- on purpose touches my stomach. And then I push him off.