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Mia
The rain patters heavilyagainst my windshield. I’m watching the frat house from my car, my chest heaving. I’m scared out of my mind, and not only by the prospect of facing Declan, his disdainful laughter and that of his guys, or the humiliation he is going to put me through.
It’s that house in itself.
It resembles a shipwreck on land, the ghost of the loud and boisterous place where that damn party took place. All lights are out, and the entire street seems abandoned. The street lamp next to it, the only one still working in the whole street, is flickering. The power is out in the entire neighborhood. They said on the radio that the storm knocked over some power lines, but this looks like it took down whole chunks of the city.
I look down at my phone sitting on the passenger seat next to me. Timothy had been sending me gross texts for hours until he suddenly stopped about an hour ago. My eyes move slowly back to the frat house. He must be in there, waiting for me. Knowing I’m on my way. They are all ready to do nasty things to me, but I’ll put them in their own nasty place or die trying. I’m gonna save Declan for last, too. I will see that bastard at the gates of hell, if it’s the last thing I do.
I decide to leave the car here, too, a safe distance from the house. With the power out, it’s far enough for them not to spot it, so I don’t run the risk of them driving it away so that I can’t get away from them. Jittery and anxious as I’ve been all day, I forgot all about grabbing an umbrella on my way out, so the only option is walking through the rain.
Holding my leather jacket over my head like a hoodie, I step out of the car. The jacket is hardly any help with the downpour, and my oversized sweater, black skinny jeans and sneakers are soaking wet by the time I find refuge on the porch. Stomping my feet against the last wooden stair, I lower my jacket and shrug into it normally, my eyes sweeping over the ground floor windows.
It’s quiet, too quiet. And too dark. The porch creaks under my footsteps like an old ghost house from a freaking horror movie. Reaching out for the doorknob, I realize the door is ajar. All it needs is a slight little push, and it slowly falls open to reveal the darkness of the house. The same space where people were dancing and drinking in tight, sweaty clusters resembles the living area of an abandoned manor.
Lightning strikes outside, sending a flash through the windows. The furniture casts shadows along the floor, the room heavy, with an ominous feel. I walk slowly, water dripping onto the floor from my soaked jacket. The closer I get to the stairs that lead up to the gallery, the more laden the air seems with a strange scent.
“Declan,” I call at the foot of the stairs, my hand on the banister.
Nothing. Not a single sound that would mark any other human presence besides mine.
I swallow hard. The smart thing to do right now would be to turn around and run. The frat boys must have prepared something beyond nasty. But I guess today I’m not smart.
“If this is a joke, it isn’t fucking funny,” I call out.
Damn it, I should just run as fast as my legs will take me.
Except what happens is I step up the stairs, slowly walking up to the gallery. I come to a stop in the very spot where Declan held me over the crowd, my tits bouncing overhead as he took me from behind. A chill runs down my spine as I stare down at the space where people seemed to transcend their bodies last time I was here. Flashes of lightning cut through it again, sending eerie shadows throughout the space.
Something is seriously wrong here. A frat house couldn’t possibly be so empty in the dead of night, in the middle of a storm, unless people got evacuated. Maybe that’s why Timothy stopped texting me like a nutcase an hour ago. My mouth twists as I taste bitterness on my tongue. Of course the last thing they thought about was to let me know, tell me not to take the trouble and drive here tonight, not with the powerlines whipping in the wind, and dropping onto the wet pavement. Of course they’d–
Something like cold leather coils around my neck, cutting through my stream of thought, but it doesn’t completely interrupt my air supply. I gag, my fingers reaching up instinctively, scratching my own skin as I struggle to dig between the leather and my throat. I fight, but I don’t stand a chance against the force that drags me back until I knock into a body as hard as concrete. Familiar lips touch my earshell as a dark voice pours in.
“Welcome, little spy,” Declan’s voice says.
He pulls me backwards, into the room where we spent the party night together. Only that this time, when he spins me around by the leather strap he holds coiled around my neck, I see the bed isn’t empty. There’a a figure lying in it, gagged and chained to the posts with arms and legs apart. He’s naked but for the silk sheet covering his crotch. I’m still too much in shock to realize who it is until I recognize the ugly bluish tattoo that coils around his belly button and then runs like two sides of a chain towards the back of his waist.
“Look, my beautiful,” Declan says, his voice dark poison into my ear. “Look what you made me do.”
I breathe in the air that I can through the squeezing of his leather strap, my eyes wide on Timothy’s form. He keeps pulling at the restraints around his wrists. Duct tape is stuck to his mouth in the form of an X, thick enough to render his mumbling barely audible, but at the same time there’s no mistaking the terror in his eyes.
Which, surprisingly, I find very much to my liking. Disturbingly so. So much to my liking, that my eyes cling to him.
But the lightning cracks through the room and, seconds later, deafening thunder awakens me to how wrong this actually is.
“Please,” I croak, my fingers still trying to slip under the leather and make room for me to take in more air. “Let him go. This is kidnapping, and it could put us both in jail.”
“It could. But it won’t. You see, I don’t half-ass things, little spy.”
Understanding is fast to sink in this time.
“You want to go all the way with this?” I manage, my body stilling completely in his hold, my back against his chest. I find it’s easier to talk if I don’t move.
