𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝐾𝑛𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦

(The next few povs will be purely focused on cara and her encounters with Travis and John.)

Cara Hendersons pov

The next morning, I jolted awake, my head pounding mercilessly as the uncomfortable reminder of my period came crashing back over me. My clothes felt suffocatingly tight, and every little thing about this place grinded on my nerves. I was utterly miserable—the mattress was too thin, the lights too harsh, and the overwhelming weight of longing for home hung heavily on my chest. I had tried desperately to stay optimistic, but being both kidnapped and on my period felt like a cruel cosmic joke, the worst kind of suffering.

More painful than the kidnapping was the relentless discomfort of my body reminding me that I was trapped in a nightmare.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and the taller one stepped in—his identity no longer obscured by a mask. They had abandoned that charade, and now, I could clearly see him for what he was. His height and tone marked him as the rude one, the one who seemed most impatient with me, unlike the other who had shown some semblance of kindness.

"Good morning!" he called cheerfully, his voice radiating an unsettling brightness. I blinked at him, completely baffled. He wheeled in a stand with an enormous thirty-inch monitor on it, and confusion crashed over me like a wave.

“What…” I mumbled, feeling bewilderment creep in.

“I brought… a TV,” he gestured with an air of satisfaction. Maybe my tired mind was playing tricks on me, or perhaps there was genuinely a TV in front of me. It was surreal—what was happening?

“Why? What’s with the showers and the food and now a TV? Aren’t I supposed to be a prisoner or something?” My incredulity spilled out, fueled by the countless stories I’d read about kidnappings. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Would you rather I act like a proper kidnapper?” he replied, shaking his head as he set the remote down beside me. “Why are you so ungrateful?”

“I’m… sorry.”

As I met his gaze, I found myself at a loss for words, feeling the weight of my situation and my countless unanswered questions. I didn’t mean to come off as ungrateful; everything was just so bewildering.

“It’s got channels and…” he continued, his attention shifting to the TV as I took a moment to study him. There were two of them, but this one was different. The other was from the club, a shaved head marked with a tattoo beneath his neck and piercing emerald eyes. This guy was strikingly handsome, with curly black hair that flopped in every direction, his tall, built frame exuding a presence I couldn’t ignore. A tattoo of a rose with an intricate web of thorns decorated his neck, and even amidst the pain and confusion, I felt an unfamiliar flutter in my chest.

"Wow," I blurted out, my sudden proclamation surprising even myself. His brow furrowed, perplexed by my outburst.

"Wow what?"

“You… you’re hot.” A giggle escaped my lips, and I immediately felt my cheeks flush. I was certain the haze from lack of sleep had finally taken its toll.

He stared at me in disbelief, tilting his head, confusion etching his features.

“How long has it been since—”

“No, no…” I lifted my hands, shushing him from across the room.

Silence fell between us as he shook his head, running his fingers through his tousled hair. Even that simple action felt oddly magnetic. What was wrong with me? I was losing my mind.

“You need sleep and you need food, Cara... seriously. It’s affecting you,” he insisted.

“Careful now… it almost seems like you care.” I smiled playfully, and in an instant, he closed the distance, hovering over me. He leaned in, his eyes locked on mine, just an inch away from my lips. A rush of warmth raced through me, and my heart began to thrum wildly, each beat echoing loudly in my ears.

“What I want to do to you, I’d need you alive for, not dead,” he smirked, and for a fleeting moment, I longed for him to pull me closer. But when he stepped back, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

He tossed me the remote and exited the room, leaving me in a daze, my mind swirling with confusion.

What the hell just happened?

As I closed my eyes, shutting off my thoughts, I couldn’t shake the vivid scene from my imagination—a dreamlike moment where his hand gently cupped my neck, his soft skin against mine, lips meeting in a tender kiss.

The TV flickered to life, its content igniting an unexpected heat within me, a warmth I hadn’t felt amid the cold reality of my circumstances. I had always loved shows that narrated every emotion, every heartbeat, pulling me into their world as if I were part of it. And in that moment, amidst the snatched reality of my existence, gratitude washed over me. I didn’t deserve this TV, and yet here it was, a strange comfort in my chaotic situation.

But why was he being so nice? One moment he was cold and distant, and the next, warmth radiated from him. The duality of him and his friend—his brother?—only added to my confusion.

Part of me wished he would return, while another part wanted to push him away, protect myself from whatever strange game was being played. As exhaustion overcame me, I finally slipped into the sleep I had been so desperately yearning for, unaware of the dreams waiting just beyond the horizon of my consciousness.