T A K E N

chapter seven

Chelsea Brooks

 Ever since I was a really young; well since before middle school I never really got shy or nervous about things that people usually get scared doing. 

At school dances I was never shy to dance with people, or at talent shows I was never scared to go up on stage and perform things for the eyes staring back at me. Because for some reason it never made me nervous. Or when the waiter would bring me the wrong order, or charge me the wrong price I had no problem speaking up. 

I would be the person my friends would go to when they needed to ask a stranger for the time, or if somebody was using an empty chair that was next to them at a cafe. Or when the barista at Starbucks made them to wrong drink, or messed up the size of it. You see when all my friends got too nervous to say anything, I on the other hand had no problem speaking up. And I dont mean this in like a "omg i'm not like other girl's" kind of way. It has honestly confused me my whole life. 

So that brings us here, standing in an elevator handcuffed next to a man with a gun in hand, ready to shoot me at any moment. And although I am the most terrified I have even been in my life, you would think I would have the sense to stop taking. But for some reason the more scared I tend to feel, the less I act like someone who is. 

"where are we going." I ask, my voice a bit quieter then before.

"you'll see" he says simply, sounding irritated by my question.

"why cant you just–" my words came to a halt as the elevator doors pinged open revealing a tall man. He was wearing black skinny jeans and a matching black t-shirt revealing his many scattered tattoos that littered down his arms. His hair was a chestnut brown that sat in loose curls on the top of his head. Behind him was a long thin hallway painted black with doors scattered along both sides,

"Mr Styles," the man next to me said. His voice higher and more timid now, then how he spoke before.

I hadn't realized I was scanning his body until he cleared his throat, causing me to snap my eyes up to his moss green ones. 

"is she new" he asked the man next to me reviling a low raspy english accent. 

"yes, sorry sir i'm just taking her to her squad"  

"hmm" he replied while directing his gaze back over to me, letting his eyes scan my body. Just as his eyes came back up to mine I was pulled forward by the guard, letting him walk into the elevator we were just in. As we started down the hall I looked over my shoulder to see the elevator doors behind us shutting closed,

"who was that" I asked, now directing my eyes over to the man pulling me through the long hallway. 

He looked exactly like every other man I had seen here; black jeans, muscular, inked skin. But for some reason something about him stood out. And well based on my guards voice, and his rush to get out of his way, i'm guessing he's important or just really dangerous, or maybe both. 

"that is someone you dont want to fuck with" he responded with his eyes fixed infront of him. 

I didn't respond, I only furrowed my brows as I let myself be pulled down the hallway until we stopped infront of one of the doors on the right. 

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a ring with about 20 keys on it. While keeping his grip on my arm he moved the rings around in his hand a few times until he grabbed onto the one he wanted. He leaned forward to push the key into the lock and turned it to the left until it clicked, allowing him to turn the the handle and push the door open revealing a room the size of a small living room.