Different Kind of Love

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Different Kind of Love

  Chapter One

Interfering in a gang fight at two in the morning while being shit faced is not the best idea. At the time I did not want the attractive blond guy to be knifed by the scary black guy with the dragon tattoo. I guess I did not think past tackling the dragon tattoo man, because after that, when dragon tattoo tried to knife me, well, I did not know what to do. Being a 15 year old drunk girl, I ended up laughing at him and pointing out that he had a knife in his hand. This apparently pissed off Mr. Drug lord and he picked me up and threw me in the back of a sketchy white van and then he ran to a black SUV that took off in the opposite direction. One of his henchmen then caught me and tied my hands to Blondie’s hands, and dragged us into the middle of the van. The van looked like it through hell and back, the bucket and back seats were missing and the shot gun seat also. There, in place of the shotgun seat was a lawn chair turned toward the back of the vehicle. The interior once was a pale grey, now it was tinted with black and splotches of blood, a reminder of the many people’s stories that had ended there. Dragon Tattoo’s Henchman sat in the lawn chair causing it to creek in protest. Blondie and I sat back to back, were the bucket seats would have been, him facing the left side of the van and me the right. Still having poison courage coursing through my veins, I had the urge to sing, so I belted out the lyrics to one of my favorite songs: 
 

  "Sex and white lies! Handcuffs and alibis! She lays her hallow on the pillow where she sleeps her heart beats red wine, my toxic valentine!" A meaty hand slapped me and I stopped singing. 
 

  "Shut your trap girl," Drug Lord's Henchman growled as he stared me down with his beady black eyes. I giggled slightly, finding this whole situation to be a lot more comical than it should of probably been, due to the fact I was wasted. The Henchman looked pretty pissed, and he slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the most intimidating objects ever… a purple sparkly crayon. I busted out laughing; the sight of the bald henchman dude holding a crayon was a sight to see. His face turned red and he quickly pushed the crayon back into his pocket, as his sausage fingers fumbled around, groping for another object in his Mary Poppins-like pocket. A grin appeared on his creepy face and made him look more possessed that he already seemed. The Henchman finally pulled out a long curved silver knife. The handle was made out of a substance that looked like ivory, I could not be sure because it was covered in dried and fresh blood. The knife slowly made it's way toward my throat, the curve perfectly fitting around it, inclosing around it like a python would a rat. 


    "Now girl, I think it would be best suited for you to keep your damn mouth shut!" he growled as he pushed the knife to my throat drawing a bit of blood. The red liquid dripped down into my black party dress, funneling its way down my cleavage to my belly. My own blood filled my belly button. I never could handle the sight of blood especially my own, so I then threw up all over Henchman and myself. He then managed to look even more pissed and that is when I finally sobered up enough to understand my situation. 

   Flashbacks of when I saw the movie "Taken" with my family swam before me. I remembered how my own father chuckled and said, "I love you, but I would never go to those lengths to save you." Those words stung me then, but they did not matter to me until that night. Knowing that my father would not risk his life for me had been heartbreaking enough when he originally said it, but it was more than just “heartbreaking” then, at that moment in the van I realized that I was alone from here on out. I could only rely on myself, and that taught was life defying.

After my Dad had left me, I separated myself from everyone, and due to having no family, and no friends; I realized that I had nothing. I had lived alone wallowing in self-pity and regret until I met Zach, the boy who changed everything. My first love, he gave me everything, and then he also took it all away. He was the typical player, and I was the nerd. I fell for him hook line and sinker, and the sad part of it all is that I thaught he fell for me too. He was my first love. I was so blinded by the feeling that someone would actually want me that my heart won over my logical side. Zach moved in with me and, being so blinded, I did not see the signs: him staying out late, not returning calls, distancing himself from me, flirting with other girls, constantly texting, and not taking me out on dates. He cheated on me. He said he had never loved me and it was all fake, all lies, every smile, every kiss, every hug, everything. This had all happened earlier today, causing me to get smashed and then end up in the back of a van.

 No one would save me now. It was summer between sophomore and junior year and I had no friends or family to report my loss. My kidnapping would go unnoticed. For the first time, I was afraid. Truly afraid. Not like the kind of fear you get when watching scary movies or my fear of climbing walls, no I was fearing for my life. Those men were not good people; I did not know where I was going or what was going to happen to me. The outcome of the rest of my years would be determined by that night. Either I would die in pain after being most likely raped and tortured by those men, or I would die trying to live. But anyway I pictured it; I didn’t think I would get out alive. It is funny how fear can give person so much courage.


     And with that courage coursing through my body, I started to slowly untie my hands in an inconspicuous fashion so that Henchman and the driver would not notice anything. He grunted an animal like grunt and finally removed his crude knife from my throat. Now my throat bared a new scar, a scar clearly depicting the beginning of the awfulness of what was to come to be of me. My fingers felt raw from the constant pulling and tugging of the thick rope that attached my hands to Mr. Attractive Blonde's hands. The rope jiggled slightly as I pulled at it again, finally releasing my left hand from the rope leaving my good hand behind. As a little kid I had never had the challenge of choosing between my right and left hand to write with. One was significantly more crippled than the other. The right possessed the normal five fingers, while the left was missing two, the ring finger and the pinkie.


   My three fingered hand, now slippery from the sweat my body was creating due to the huge amount of adrenaline pumping through my body, tugged at the rope more ferociously than ever in a desperate attempt to free my maimed hand from Mr. Attractive Blonde’s. My fingers worked fast, too fast, accidentally hitting Blondie in the back. He moved slightly and yawned, and I felt his hands move in sync with mine, freeing them both from the rope in a matter of seconds. Blondie gently poked my back three times, and then he jumped up and in one swift motion his boot hit henchman's head and his fist crashed into the driver’s skull. He quickly jumped on top of the driver, slamming on the breaks, causing me to crash into the lawn chair. Luckily, the henchman's beer belly cushioned my crash and I got up relatively unscathed. Slowly I turned around to come face to face with Blondie. He frowned at my attire, and me probably thinking about how slutty I looked, and how I would be throwing myself at him like an annoying leech. Ha! This boy was in for a big surprise!


   "My name’s Carter and I will be escorting you back to your normal civilian life where you will forget about today. You may not ask questions, and please do what I tell you or I will not hesitate to kill you," he said in a stiff voice as he searched through Henchman and the drivers pockets, taking out two guns and several clips. He tossed me a loaded gun and I quickly flipped the safety off and pressed the cool metal to his throat. 
           

"Well Carter, I have some questions and I expect some answers. And I'm sure as hell not some dog you can order around. Oh, and Carter? You will not be killing me any time soon, this bitch is a survivor," I said not lowering my gun from his throat.  Fear and lust clouded his eyes. Stupid boys who like women with guns, I cursed his stupid hormones. And like in a perfect teenage romance novel, he leaned in to kiss me, out of pure lust I’m sure, but then real life set in. Just like a typical bad guy in a horror movie he slowly got up with a terrifying smile plastered on his face. He then pulled out his knife, and slowly walked toward us. I pulled the gun in my hands up and squeezed the trigger pointing at the henchman. I heard the bullet penetrate his flesh, driving between his ribs and permanently stopping his heart. This did not surprise me. I have always loved guns, and the shooting range was practically my home. I practiced every day for hours on end. I was better than most policemen and SWAT agents. I never missed. I could be sprinting and shoot a penny out of the sky; I could shoot a fly out off a target from 100 meters away.

      I watched as blood shot out of his wound as he fell to the ground, his eyes rolling back into his head as he gasped his final breath. A dull thud shook the van, and I sighed in relief. Then I looked down at the blood creating a small lake inclosing my red high heals, and fainted.

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