Unknown.

Ch. 27 Screaming.

Sandra's P.O.V.

When I woke up, some of my hair was matted with blood from my head wound, and I was disoriented. Fear pulsed through me, I'd been abducted. Was I going to be killed? Tortured? Every thought made my heart pick up speed, the world was going blurry as tears formed in my eyes. I was going to die.

No, Sandra, use your common sense. I urged myself, closing my eyes, then I realized something. If they wanted me to be killed, then they'd have shot me right in that field.

Look around Sandra, be aware of your surroundings.

Ignoring the fear pulsing through my veins, I slowly opened my eyes. What I saw was totally unexpected. Being abducted and all, I'd expected to be in a bloody torture room, but what I was sitting in was like a bedroom minus the bed. There was bookshelf with some dusty books, it looked to be a boy's room with little action figures here and there. The carpet was pure white, and my boots sank into it. It was completely normal, though it was really dusty. Inspecting myself, I'd been stripped to my black, spaghetti strap tank top, and my sweatpants remained. There was some blood on my chest, and I realized the wound on my head had bled more than I originally thought, but it didn't hurt any more.

My ankles were strapped to the legs of the chair, my wrists handcuffed behind me. The fear didn't lessen as I looked around, but I saw all had an eerie aroma. Then I saw a picture, it was on the door directly in front of me. It was large, and had two little boys. One with a messy mop of bleach blonde hair, dark eyes, and a wide grin, he had his arm hooked around the shoulder of the other one. The other one had black hair, and didn't even look slightly happy. He had a dark tan, and his mouth was carved into a perfectly straight line even though he wasn't pinching his lips together in a scowl, it looked like the happiness had been drained out of him. The youth in his face was supposed to have a smile, but it had darkness, depression. When I looked up at the boy's eyes they were a familiar ice blue.

Dean.

His eyes were haunting, and totally encapsulated the very essence of his depression.

Before I could process this more, the door swung open, the framed picture banging against it. Trent stood in the doorway, he must've been the other boy in the picture. Trent and Dean had been childhood friends? When I looked up, Trent let out a long sigh, like he wasn't eager to talk to me.

He just stared down at me, and I looked right back up. I didn't know what he expected me to do, so we just stared. "Sandra, I remember first laying eyes on you," His voice was smooth, and it didn't suit the fact he was fucking insane. "I remember laying eyes on you too, fucking creep." I retorted, he paused. Obviously he expected me to obey my fear and stay silent, but I wasn't about to. "I thought Dean would toss you to the side, you really aren't a girl of true caliber. For that reason I didn't kill you, but now looking back, I should have." He finished as if I didn't say anything at all.

"So why aren't you killing me?" I asked, cocking my head to the side just to piss him off. "Well, you see, you're bait. Dean will come running if I have you." He explained, I smiled. "He'll come with an army Trent, and you'll be killed, shot through the skull, just like the mangy mutt you are." This was my self defense mechanism, talk back and piss people off when I'm scared. Trent's eyes narrowed. "Big talk for a human girl strapped to a chair." He snapped back, I rolled my eyes, leaning back casually. "Please Trent, I don't have to be standing up to tell you off. It's just that easy." I retorted, he was visibly shaking with anger. Probably not a good idea to talk back, considering anger triggers shifts, but Trent glared at me with his eyes of bottomless pits. "No I definitely cannot see what Dean sees in you." He abruptly left, slamming the door so hard it rattled on it's hinges, and the photo nearly fell.

Dean, Dean, Dean, DEAN! My thoughts raced as I remembered I could use that weird GPS thing we have. So I focused and he was heading my way. He was coming for me, it was up to me to stay alive while he did.

Hours passed, and then Trent walked back in, except now he had a wicked grin. "Well, Sandra," He licked his lips in anticipation, "It's time to have fun." He said, whipping out a pocket knife, it gleamed in the light of the sun, and fear washed through me. "I assume this is where you start torturing me?" I asked, Trent strode forward, not bothering to respond. He sliced open a cut on my cheek, and blood oozed out. I glared at him, "It'll take a lot more than a fucking knife to make me plead for mercy from a dumb ass mutt." I snapped.

I kept my word, I never pleaded for mercy.

But my screams could be heard for miles around.

Dean's P.O.V.

Her pain rocketed through me like it was my own, and it was so bad I'd swerve off the lane sometimes, but I'd always get right back on track. My stomach throbbed, what the hell was Trent doing to her? Her pain emanated in my skull, and it made me press down on the gas pedal even harder. Levi giving me the occasional look of concern. I was going 90 miles per hour in a 70 zone. Thank god we were on a lonely country road, and no one was here. No one really used this road ever, and I was thankful, as the meter inched towards 100 miles per hour, pain rocketed through me.

My knuckles were white on the wheel, Trent would die for this.