Marceline Hawthorne is a 22 year old girl who loves flowers and works at a flower shop, hoping to one day own her own. she's a ray of sunshine, so kind and sweet you'd get a toothache. she lives in an apartment and can't have a garden which breaks h...
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Sunday, July 14th: "get down!" someone calls to me from my right, I take a drink from the bottle of vodka in my hand and spin around on the countertop, and laugh when I almost slip off. "Marcy! Where are you!?" calling out to her but I can't see her anywhere. I get off the counter and leave the bottle on it, I walk through the house and can't find her. I go outside and walk to the end of the path, when I don't see her I turn and start walking back towards the house. As I do, the breath is taken from my lungs and I'm pulled back. I go to scream but a hand covers my mouth quickly and all my screams are muffled, I kick and pull my body away as best as I can, whoever has grabbed me is strong and I'm unable to get away. I claw at their arm when they lift me up and drag me into the back of a van. "Stop fucking squirming," a low voice commands and I don't listen, I continue fighting with everything I have, which the alcohol coursing through my body isn't helping with. I'm pushed face-first into the floor of the van and my arms are pulled behind my back and tied with zip ties. I'm pulled back up and a black bag is pulled over my head and I'm pushed onto my side and the doors close, I hear a door open and close then we start moving, I'm not sure how long we drive for, maybe around 30-45 minutes.
The doors are opened and I'm dragged by my feet to the edge of the floor and from there, I'm picked up and thrown over someone's shoulder. I scream and kick my legs as hard as I can, "LET GO YOU ASSHOLE!" I yell and I hear the huffing of breath by whoever's carrying me. "Shut the fuck up before I make you," He grumbles, "do it then," I retort, after a few minutes, nothing happens. Just like I thought, this guy's a little bitch. He walks for what feels like forever, but finally, I'm set on my feet roughly, I'm still wasted so I almost fall over but a hand grabs my arm before I do. "Clumsy bitch," he mutters, "uh, I'm not clumsy you wet sock, and I am very intoxicated right now." I bite out slurring some of my words and pulling my arm from his now loosened grip, and cross my arms over my chest.
He groans, "Whatever." he grumbles and pulls the bag off my head and I squint my eyes from the bright lights. "Damn, you couldn't turn the light off?" I remark and he grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. His grey eyes stare back at me and his jaw clenches and he looks like the fucking devil, if he was hot. Cause if I wasn't sure this man is a dickwad and I wasn't dating the most wonderful and perfect man ever, I would probably hit on him. Am I into being kidnapped? No. Maybe? I guess I'll have to ask Flynn to pretend to kidnap me later.
"You are fucking infuriating," he growls, I smile sarcastically, "But I'm hot, so it doesn't matter does it?" I retort and he slides his hand down to grip my neck, "I wouldn't do that if I were you," I breathe out as he tightens his grip, "and why is that?" he says lowly, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looks down at me. "I'm taken by a psycho," I croak out, the air in my lungs leaving rapidly, "he'll probably cut your dick off and make you choke to death on it," I say, using whatever breath I had to speak. I try to suck air back in but it's becoming harder to. "Do you think I care about him?" he says quietly, "You'll be gone long before he even knows you're missing." his threat or promise is the last thing I'm able to comprehend before the room goes dark and I lose all consciousness.
