𝑳𝒐𝒘 𝑶𝒏 𝑮𝒂𝒔

꧁𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 3꧂

As I finally regained consciousness, my head was pounding. It was like they dropped me on the floor or something. They must've because I don't think after getting shot in the arm and the back gives you a fucking migraine.

Anyway, I looked around as my vision came back to its senses. I was in somewhere dark with the only light sources above my head. Of course I was tied up. My wrists and ankles were tied down to the rusty wooden chair I sat in.

The basement - or whatever I was in - smelled like smoke and caramel. I liked the smell of caramel but the smell of smoke threw me off.

another light source I forgot to mention was a large rectangular door directly in front of me. The edges of it lit up like that was outside or something.

I needed to get out. I looked around the room to see if there was anything I could use but then I remember that there was a pocket knife in my back pocket. Thank God I carried that around.

I used one of my hands to reach into my pocket, pulling pout the knife. My arm and back still aches from the shot for earlier but that didn't stop me from trying to cut myself free.

After a couple minutes which felt like forever, a rip came from behind me and my wrists were free. I bent down and cut my ankles free. Thank god I didn't get rope burn.

I stood up. Dizziness hit me harder than the bullet did and I almost fell over but pushed myself forward. I walked
towards the door, limping slightly.

When I reached it, I reached for the handle and twisted it. I guess whoever kidnapped me didn't think I had a pocket knife cause the door was unlocked.

Easier than I thought.

I silently closed the door behind me and locked around. I thought I was gonna be in some suburban house but I was in a mansion. A very large mansion, probably twice the size of the neighborhood I lived in.

I decided to wander around, maybe destroy some shit. I mean it's pay back for kidnapping me and taking my keys. I walked around the living room first. It was nicely decorated but the pictures were random ass people. Weird.

I walked around the kitchen next. I was starving so I walked to the fridge but for some odd reason there was no food. How the fuck do these people survive? And why are you gonna have a whole ass fridge but no food in it?

I walked out of the kitchen. It was a waste of my time anyway. I headed to the upstairs since I didn't feel like searching the entire downstairs. Honestly, I wanted to get to Katsuki's bedroom to tear everything apart.

There were like 600 rooms in that place, but I eventually made it to a room that actually looked like someone stayed in it. The place had a bathroom and a walk in closet.

I'm not even gonna ask where he gets all this money from cause I have a feeling it's probably from kidnapping people and fights.

I looked in the drawers and at the bed. The bed had an indent where he slept at and the drawers had guns, knives, and other violent objects inside. I didn't need them but I did take another pocket knife since I'm pretty sure I left in the basement.

I wasn't very curious about what was in the bathroom but I was curious about what was inside the closet. I dunno why I was but I wanted to find out.

I opened the large closet doors and it was like a whole shopping center. I looked around and there were only suits. The suits seemed brand new and expensive. They seemed like they were more expensive than my house bills. Must be very valuable.

I got to the back and my jaw almost dropped when I seen the amount of dresses the whore had. He must've been married or gay. Who knows?

It was oddly surprising how the dresses were my exact size. Weeeeird. But I was getting curious by the second. I wanted to see how it looked on me, that's all.

I grabbed a blood shot red dress off the hanger and quietly but quickly slipped off my clothes. I pulled the dress over my body and GOD DAYUM I LOOKED FINE AS FUCK.

I looked to the giant mirror that was in the corner and checked myself out, sliding my hands down my curves to get the wrinkles out the dress.

The dresses looked like they've been worn. Probably by other women...or by him.

The dress suited me. I guess it did. I didn't wear dresses often unless I was going to an event or a dinner. Or anywhere fancy.

"There's way more dresses than that, gas girl.."

I turned around so quickly to see that spiky headed bitch leaning on the doorframe with a smirk on his face, eyes roaming over my body like he owned it.

"Where are my keys?" I said quietly but seriously.

"You still worried about them?" He raised an eyebrow, that stupid smirk growing as he said it, "I dunno where they are."

He said that so innocently, it pissed me off. I probably looked more pissed off than he did when I first met him.

I marched towards him, standing in front of him I said, "where. the fuck. are my keys?" I knew I wasn't intimidating and to him I was like a fucking fly but it was good to try.

"I. don't know. where they are." He responded in the same tone as me, basically mocking me, "do you want me to say it in a different language or what?"

I just stared at him. Me and him were inches apart at this moment, anything could've happened. But nothing did. We just stared at each other - same way we did when I first saw the fucker.

Something - what sounded like a whisper - came from his ear and he scoffed. I couldn't hear anything they said and I wasn't gonna ask cause I had a feeling it had something to do with fighting.

Katsuki stomped past me, clearly mad that something interrupted him before he could do something to me.

Katsuki shot me a menacing glare before bellowing "Kirishima, get your ass in here."

The redhead poked his head in warily at his boss' tone. "Yeah, Boss?"

"Escort our..." Katsuki sneered distastefully at me, "...guest downstairs. Make sure she doesn't wander off."

I folded my arms defiantly. "Oh sure, go ahead and try to order me around. Not like I have a choice in this prison."

Before a fight could erupt, Kirishima cleared his throat. "This way, miss." He motioned expectantly.

With a harrumph, I stomped past Katsuki, brushing shoulders a little too roughly. He was getting on my last fucking nerve, and it seemed like I was getting on his.

"You're really starting to piss me off, woman..." he growled under his breath. I was happy that I was pissing him off but I hated the fact that he was pissing me off just as much..