Silas (Done Editing! If only now I could get through the writers block... )

Chapter 2: I Could Have A Concussion(And Die)

Chapter 2: I Could Possibly Have A Concussion(And Die)

There’s something in my shirt. I could feel it, crawling agonizingly slow through the cloth and my bare skin. Its fuzzy, its big, and I bet you a thousand dollars it has eight legs. Its little fat body wisps across my back like it’s its own mini playground, the feeling gone one moment then somewhere else a second later. Ohhhh god, is there more than one? 

My eyes began to flutter open as I awaken from the deepest sleep I think I’ve ever had. I automatically assume I was in my bedroom, in my own warm blankets, when all of a sudden those damn spiders inch their way up to my neck and scare the drowsy shit out of me.

“HOLY FUCK! GET THEM OFF OF ME! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET THEM THE HELL OUT OF MY SHIRT!!!” I scream on the top of my lungs, jumping up from the wet ground and prancing around like a drunken gorilla, trying to get a fat spider out of my clothing. Damn perverted spider.

I hop around on soggy leaves until I unstick my shirt from my body, then looking over my shoulder to see the ugliest bug fall out of the only personal space I have.

I continue to scream until I see it disappear under a pile of pine needles, me panting like a marathon runner. The adrenaline coursing through me almost got me to take off running…and I definitely would’ve if only there had not been a man standing before me, casually holding a Glock. His face was the spitting image of ‘What the hell have you been on?’ 

“So, still need help?” He smirks sarcastically, but he still eyes me with the weirded out look, referring to my mental outburst. He goes to sit against a tree, obviously waiting for an explanation.

To Hell, that bastard owes me one.

And then I realize where I was, out in the woodlands of Wyoming, NOT in my bed might I add. And in a few short seconds of staring like a stricken idiot at the man, I began to panic…..

WHO is he? Why does my head hurt? What the heck happened….then it clicked.

I can’t even begin to utter a sarcastic comeback as my brain scrambles through its confusion. I stare at the face of my kidnapper in shock and…amazement. The man had a long scar running across his right cheek, trailing all the way down to his neck, his bronze hair falling roughly into his face. Hawk-like stares are given to me from hazel gold eyes, his jaw muscles clenching when he notices my gaping looks. A slight scruff shadows his jaw, giving off a perilous wild vibe. A rough, chiseled face tells me he’s around twenty, the tight, dirty white muscle shirt outlining a gorgeous body. My eyes involuntarily trail down to his heavy pants with hundreds of camo pockets to his black hiking boots at the end of his feet. I finally took notice of the tears and holes he was sporting throughout his clothing, even the blood stains and cuts along his arms and chest. Strange rosy dog tags on gold chains hung precariously from his neck, pooling lightly below his ripped chest. He resembled a war zone.   

“Umm…uh….” My voice wanders off stupidly, not knowing exactly what to say. So, this is my kidnapper? A crazy hot ex-military?  

He raises an eyebrow at my obvious lack of words and quickly gets to his feet. I scurry back in fright, kind of afraid he was coming at me. No matter how sexy he might be, I was still his frickin’ hostage, who he apparently knocked out. Which reminds me….

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m just a little thirsty,” His mouth tilts up slightly at an attempt to make me feel a little more relaxed. He reaches up and crabs a tin water bottle that was hanging from a tree branch.  He quickly takes a sip.

That’s when I remember what I’ve been forgetting about due to my minor lapse in thought. I finally remember, as my head begins to spin, that I have a killer headache so large a bomb to the face would do better. I feel like I’ve had my brains hammered out by a mallet, the shock and adrenaline finally wearing off and my knees feeling like they were ready to buckle. I completely forget that I’m dealing with a lunatic soldier, and get super pissed.