Hell's Hollow [h.s]

...

I woke up abruptly from the sound of the shouts, they were muffled, but still roaring. I gasped, fighting for air like this was my first time breathing. I frantically glance around at my surroundings, desperately trying to figure out where the hell I am. If I've been kidnapped and they've taken me to a secondary location I'm fucked. Hell, I'm basically a lost cause. I realize quickly that I am bound at my hands. The ground is hard and uneven under my back. Cobblestone? Above me, the sky is dark and starless. The moon shines cold and unforgiving, offering no help. If there wasn't a cold breeze I would assume I was in a basement.

In the shadows I could see distant lights in windows around me. I could see a slight silhouette of a fountain? Even stranger- someone was sitting on top of it. No water was streaming off the platforms.

"H-Hello? Who's there?" I say in a small voice, only just above a whisper. "Where am I- who are you?!"

    Suddenly I became aware of the fact that I was not the only one bound here in this strange dark place. Low groans sounded from my left and to my right. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I noticed a petite, black haired girl with ghostly skin. I turn and see a tall brown haired boy trying to sit up. My heart stills in my chest as the worst case scenario fills my mind. For the first time in years I began to pray.

    Confusion fogs my brain as the man who was shouting steps out of the heavy darkness. His face is still concealed behind a werewolf mask. I suddenly realize that they must not have taken me very far if this douchebag hasn't even bothered to take off that cheap party city mask.

    "Well shit. They're awake." My heart stops as the mask's lips move along to the man's voice. I sat in disbelief as I focused on the golden bloodshot eyes and thick drool dripping from his yellowed fangs. He leans down to inspect me, a rancid breath filling my nose. I cringe away. "I'll handle this. You go explain yourself to Madam."

They lift up the needle, ready to inject.  I quickly object, screaming and kicking to avoid it.

    I hear a sigh and a thump as 'Styles' begins to walk away. I open my mouth to say something when a sickly sweet smell clogs my throat. I'm falling back into unconsciousness before I can even insult his dog's breath.