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"Come a Little Closer" -Cage The Elephant ╳
"Do you understand the things that you've been seein'? Come on, come on, come on Do you understand the things that you've been dreamin'?"
╳
The metallic scent of blood filled my nostrils as my accelerated heart rate skyrocketed, pain shooting through my shoulders as hands gripped them. I felt myself being pulled from my idle state, my tired demeanor completely vanishing as fear and adrenaline coursed through my veins. I struggled against whoever was behind me, their chest like a brick wall.
The astounding dosage of adrenaline switched my fight or flight on in less than a second, my body immediately choosing to writhe and fight against the stranger.
"Michael!" A hand covered my mouth swiftly as I shouted for my friend. I knew he couldn't hear me. He was blackout drunk. I cursed myself for letting him have that much to drink.
"Fuck!" My words are muffled as I felt myself being pulled backwards. My body hit the ground, dirt coating the arms of my jacket as I prevented my face from planting onto Mother Nature's floor.
My eyes made their way to him.
Horror. The sheer horror of familiarity. My mouth trembled as I struggled to find words.
Though I didn't have enough time to react as he flung the edge of a rusty pipe to my temple—the blurry blunt object being the last thing I remember seeing.
╳
The throbbing pain of my head matched with the confusion that formed throughout me—my eyes cracked open, revealing the silhouette of a tall frame.
My hands jolted as I realized I'm restrained, the memory of however many hours ago flooding back to me. A cough left my lips as my head dipped down, noticing my restrained feet against the chair I sat in.
"You motherfucker." My words are hoarse, yet the seething venom still obvious to him. He let a chuckle leave his lips, his eyes staring down at me. His white dress shirt was stained with blood—my blood.
It taunted me.
"You know," he began, his voice low. "That night you stayed for dinner, I knew something was up." He reached over to the counter of the kitchen island, his rough hands grasping the sparkling blade.
Your heart rate skyrocketed, though you didn't let it show—or, rather tried.
His eyes watched you, a hawk eyeing the prey. "I remember thinking—someone out to murder me? Oh! How fun." The edges of his lips formed into a sadistic grin, eyes crazed, yet void.
He pointed the point of the blade to my neck, my head instinctively jolting back as far as possible. My teeth gritted, cheeks raised as my breathing sped up—unsteady.
"It's like a game." He chuckled as my eyes never left him once. "A good ole' fashioned game of tag." His chuckle turned into a manic laugh as he pulled the knife back.
In one swift cut of rope, the restraints against my skin were gone—fallen to the floor. I quickly got up, eyes focused on him and his every movement.
"What are you waiting for, sweetheart?" His laugh echoed across the house.
