Eighteen ➵ z.m. [Camp NaNoWriMo November 2015]

<2> What's your name, green eyes?

He's not from here, is the first thought that ran across my mind upon hearing the man who was suppose to be Zayn, greet me.

The man had spoken exactly two words since entering the room, so I didn't pick up on the accent, all I knew was that it wasn't American. Zayn's dad, Mr. Malik, had an American accent so I'm assuming that Zayn would as well.

"You're not Zayn," I say flatly letting the unknown man know that I wasn't an utter fool.

There was a brief moment of silence, before I felt two large hands go behind my head and start tugging at the blindfold around my eyes. Soon enough the concealment was pulled away from my face and my vision was restored.

The lighting in the room was dim, but it still took my eyes quiet a bit of time to adjust.

"I'm aware," he says. His voice was deep and held a bit of a rasp to it. If I wasn't currently tied up, the sound of his voice might have been rather comforting.

The unknown man had piercing green eyes and unruly hair that was a tangled mess of chocolate curls on top of his head. He was also rather tall, about six feet or so, and was built like a diesel truck. Pure undeniable muscle was bludging out of the short sleeved shirt he was in and his toned legs were showcased by the choice of shorts he chose to wear.

"Then where is he?" I question.

Mesmerizing green eyes (as I had secretly dubbed him, because he had yet to introduce himself, but he knows who I am), bit down on his lower lip, a tell-tell sign that he was contemplating how should answer my question.

As he debated with himself, on what information he should reveal to me, I take this time to study my surrondings just incase green eyes decided to place the blind fold over my eyes once again.

The room looked like it was a huge tornado shelter, with slight modifications like the speakers on each of the corners in the room. The speakers were more than likely how the other mystery man got into touch with me. Far as I could tell, the room had no cameras but I'm almost positive that there were some type of recording devices, but I just couldn't locate them.

Multiple chairs were lined against the walls, with plenty of rope and a blindfold in each. Apparently tieing up hostages and taking away their vision, was the Malik's standard protocol.

I would have been rather impressed, if it weren't for the fact that I was the one tied up and previously blind folded.

"Look, there's been a mistake that needs to be corrected before Zayn finds out," green eyes says. I don't respond so he takes this as a sign to continue. "You were wrongfully abducted. Some plonkers mixed up the direct orders of Zayn."

Obviously plonkers wasn't used by Americans, but I had enough common sense to apply basic context clues, to find the meaning behind the word.

Green eyes didn't look all that alarmed at mix up of plans, and it was concerning to me. Either he had found a way to correct the mistake or he wouldn't have to endure the repreccusions no matter what happened it. If it was the latter, that meant that he was a good friend of Zayn.

"So what does that mean. For me, I mean?" I ask.

"Last night you were suppose to meet your parents for dinner with some business associates, correct?"

It took me this long, but I finally decided that he had a British accent.

I nod in agreement.

When I first regained consciousness, I couldn't remember much of anything, but as time went by I started to gain back my memory. Before I was kidnapped I remember reading a text from my mother urging me to make it home soon, because I was late for dinner. I never planned on going to that dinner since my parents brought it to my attention, so I just ignored the text leaving the message on read without a reply.