CROOKED

PLAYING MIND GAMES (chap 1)

It was more than just music. It transports you to different places. You didn't just listen to it, you felt it, imagined it.

The club's lights slightly illuminated the room giving it this dark and mysterious feel. I loved it.

My friends and I moved our bodies to the music, feeling every beat."Hey," one of them called out, too drunk to acknowledge exactly which one. "That dude, green eyes, tight black shirt. He's checking you out."

I turned my head to find a stranger looking at me. He appeared to be about 27 years old. I couldn't properly remember my age. He smiled, I watched as his eyes roam over my body, taking in every curve. I smile back.

He said something, I realize after a while. I start to laugh oblivious to what the dude had even said.

Reaching for my hand, he guides me to a more private part of the club. I knew I shouldn't follow him, but to hell with responsibilities.

He leads me to a small room. Lightly pressing my back to one of the walls, he whispers in my ear, "You're a really good dancer". He's lips across my neck. I push down a moan.

"Thanks."

He's hands moved up and down my body.

It didn't feel right. As much as I tried to push it back, a small part in my brain was screaming for me to stop this.

Shaking my head, I start to push him away from me. But he wouldn't budge.

"Get the hell off!" I yell.

His cold hand wraps around my neck. Gasps and coughs escape from my lips. The room was getting darker and darker.

He's lips pressed against my ear, "you stupid Crooks."

I was to busy trying to get air to lungs to wonder what in the hell this bastard was talking about.

"You are going to wish you were never born", he says, and with that my head is smashed into the nearest wall. I start to fall only for him to catch me by my hair. He pulls me so that I'm facing him. A smile laced with evil and everything that's not pure forms on his face.

Kicks, punches, pulled hairs. My brain screamed for me to get up and fight, but I couldn't I felt weak and like death was near.

I wish the guy could feel my pain. I wanted him to feel like his windpipe was being crushed by the strength of a thousand men. To feel the perpetual pain of a thousand bullets piercing into each and every part of his body. Because death wouldn't be enough to pay for what he's doing to me. The thought of it warmed my heart. I wanted to watch the light leave his eyes.

What he's doing to me, what he's doing to me, what he's done to me. The pain had stopped. I turned my head around to find a possibly dead, bleeding man laying next to me.

PLEASE COMMENT AND VOTE I WILL WRITE MORE VERY SOON AND IF YOU COULD ALSO RATE THIS ON A SCALE OF ONE TO TEN THANK YOU