Unkissed. (Rated R)

16.♣️

Distinct conversations come from every angle, the tones vary between faint and bass. In the end they synchronize to echo on the walls as if we're cooped up in some thin cylinder room. An Ice cold A.C blowing down on me and beeps of trucks - A warehouse, or some abandoned building.

My capturer continues on with the doctor, rambling on about tasks having nothing to do with me or the circumstance, in that moment it allows me with only seconds of serenity to listen on any signs of clues.

Baritone laughter aside me makes the process itself difficult, luckily they wheeze out in the nick of time as a sound was approaching. Footsteps start off low and distant until it nears. I begin counting steps once it is within earshot. Soles of the dress shoes clicks about ten times before they fade behind a latching noise,

A rusty creak of a door cries open before allowing whistling wind inside, breeze travels through the atmosphere crinkling the plastic around my head. Conversations of men roaring from the outside, sounds of thumps as if something was being carelessly thrown onto the floor carrying on with their rambling.

I'm not too far yet I won't make a haste move, My capturer was still beside me and now there are men coming in from the outside. Too many within the perimeter to try and flee.

"Alright, he is clear. He may proceed, but try not to have him do anything too drastic or that loose ligament will fall." came the rasp voice of the elder man.

Slightly my body jolts along with the moving table under me, anxiety within my nerves ready to rupture from the overwhelming fear, an unknown. I am gliding on the table until the lights above fade. What is the next destination? not even the sounds of conversations could be made out anymore, bass chords of the men fade until its a distance squeak.

The rollers of the wheels underneath screech and scuff against floor the squeaky sound were Like the rats of my previous home and I fight back the tears. The filth and rats itself were not the best, nor was the life of a mere commoner like me, but just the sole fact that I'd always be near my best friend.

Momentary regrets disrupted when A chill Suddenly engulfs as feel myself being yeeted. A sharp maneuver to a room on the right side of the door almost launched my body to the ground, out of instinct my arms flared in attempt to grab onto anything secured.

Rolling came to a pause, a breathy chuckle fans the plastic above me. Now my capture is aware I am conscious.

"Wakey, wakey" he sung darkly.

The façade I played of playing unconscious could no longer fool him, however a part of me knew he was aware since I was pulled out of the trunk. My chest heaved fiercely, I'm sure it was picked up by the provider at least, since he was closest.

Despite the situation already, my brain refuses to believe that in this moment I could be spared and somehow free myself from the clutches of my kidnappers. Lowly sobs break from me and I gasp out the minimal air I have, fighting against the thin plastic that acts as a suction cup.

Unmoved by my cries I hear the clicks of the man's feet above me rounding to the side, darkly chuckling ever so deep and bone chillingly, amused by my fear. "You haven't begun to cry yet."

In a flash his fingers surround the plastic in a harsh grip, thick fingers sharply grazing my skin in the process. Me head forcefully lifts a few inches from the table, Ice cold oxygen flies into my lungs in a nanosecond before my head slams back down to the metal, my skull reverberates sharply from the impact.

It burns every time; cocooned in darkness and the light beams seconds later. Never any time to adjust, by now I should have grown accustomed to the sting, but not the nausea that it brings. Consciously I peel my eyes open, a blur fuzzes around the pupils until it clears.