Something Amiss (Hoodie x Reader)

Seven: The Illusion of Safety

A timeless swirl of blackness enveloped your consciousness. For a blissful stretch, you were unaware of anything but the dull buzzing in your ears, the warmth that thawed your skin, no longer aching. You groaned as you started to awake. Your head pounded, but your body felt light as a feather, free of pain.

Light as a feather, except that you couldn't seem to move.

Why couldn't you move?

Your eyes fluttered open a smidge. You were met with nothing but grey all around. You turned your head, neck stiff. Nothing, just more and more grey. It was dark in here, wherever here was. Where were you, again?

One by one, memories resurfaced in your mind. It felt like trying to run in knee high water. Like faded photographs, you remembered the library, the subway. Everything was a blur - had you hit your head?

That thought was all it took - suddenly, with mortifying clarity, you began to recover your thoughts of the alleyway. Oh, shit. You had been attacked, fact. You shuddered as you recalled the way he had spoken to you, the sensation of your arm snapping. If you could move or see anything beyond this darkness, you would have checked to see if it was really broken. You felt so pain free that somehow you thought your mind could have been playing tricks on you.

Your attacker had been shot, you thought, though you weren't quite sure. There had been a loud noise, and he had fallen on top of you.

Then, it came to you. The final piece of your hazy memory - the man in the mask. Had he been the one to save you? Did it count as a rescue if he had violently knocked you out right after?

You had been knocked out. Fact. That explained the throbbing in your skull, if nothing else. Did the prick even realise how dangerous it was to knock a person out like that? If he had hit a bit too far back, he could have killed you.

Then again, maybe that had been his intention. Somehow you doubted it - he didn't seem idiotic enough to just not check for a pulse. Once again, his sheer calculation unnerved you. He had found you again, somehow, and now he was probably kidnapping you for God knows what reason.

It struck you, then; you must be in trunk of a car. It would explain the darkness, and now that you were more spatially aware you could feel that you were moving. The dull rumbling of an engine confirmed your fears. This was less than fucking ideal.

If you were being taken to a second location, you wouldn't stand a chance. At least, that's what people had always told you when they warned you about kidnappers and traffickers as a teenager - fight tooth and nail, they'd say, punch out a tail light. Don't let yourself be taken to a second location.

You were beginning to panic, disorientation making you dizzy. The air of the trunk was musty, you were beyond lightheaded. Your vision was starting to cloud over again, but you were determined to fight the black spots and stay awake. If you didn't, you doubted you'd ever know consciousness again.

You couldn't move, and you couldn't see why. But your fingertips and feet were starting to tingle, feeling coming back. You wriggled your hands as much as you could, finding something rough was wrapped around the backs of your hands - rope.

You were fucking tied up, in the trunk of a masked stalker's car, with no clue where you were or how long you had been knocked out. You needed out, and you needed out now. Adrenaline coursing hot through you veins, the sensation now a familiar one, you did the only thing you could; thrash around violently and scream bloody murder.

Your ears began to ring again as you thrashed around like a worm, accidentally whacking your head on one of the interior car walls. Pain started to throb through your probably broken arm as it was moved, the pain only sending you into more of a meltdown. The ropes wouldn't loosen. You could feel that they were wrapped harshly around your ankles now, too, as the sensation returned to your lower body.