Baby blue short stories

coming for me 1

More or less WillFord
Tw for the story: blood, kidnapping, mafia, death,  violence, s**ual violence, r*pe

PoV Will
I held onto the gun for dear life. I couldn't just shoot! By now I couldn't even tell which ones of the people on this street were my people!

Everyone was covered in blood and it was staining my once almost white dress shirt too.

I finally realized what we were. We weren't an actual troup. We were the worst of all recruits, send to cause a distrection.

My bun had slipped. I was so nervous, scared and distraught, that I remade it carefully.

"Now what do we have hear? A little princess!", a voice suddenly said. I didn't recognize it. Oh god.

The man had tried to take cover in my hiding spot.

Help!

That guy definitely was from the other side. I grabbed my gun and pointed it at him

"D-dont come closer!", I stammered, scared to death. He chuckled.

"You're not actually going to shoot, are you, princess?", he laughed. Suddenly everything around us seemed to grow quiet.

"Sir?", someone called.

The man stared at me, then simply took the gun from my hands. Then he grabbed me by the back of my shirt and dragged me out of my hiding space.

"Is that thing...alive?", someone asked, nudging me.

"Yes. I have a feeling the boss might like it. It's got an innocent face and poses no threat.", he grinned down at me. I just didn't move.

The man let me fall to the floor, just to tie my hands feet and throw me over his shoulder. I had forgotten everything I was taught...

~~~
They put me into a car. I really wanted to cry, but I had done that to much on the street. Now I didn't have any tears left.

I was squeezed between two big, young guys, my hands still behind my back. We drove off, out of the part of the city I lived in, into the enemies part. Of course. Where else would we be going.

I suddenly realized in what kind of situation I was in. My breathing got heavier until I really started to panic. The guys beside me held me down, so I couldn't really struggle, but the panic was still very real.

"For fucks sake.", the man in the front huffed.

I eventually passed out from exhaustion.

When I woke up again, I was laying over someone's shoulder and being carried somewhere.

"Sir? I need to throw up.", I stated truthfully, holding it back.

He almost threw me to the ground. I threw up right there.

"Oh great, ANNABELLE! CLEANING EMERGENCY!", the man called, " and bring a glass of water."

Soon a middle aged, chubby woman came waddling towards us with cleaning utensils. She handed him a glass of water, which he put to my lips. I drank it gratefully.

"Thank you. " I sighed.

"Don't mention it. Seriously. Don't. ", he huffed. Then he picked me up again and carried me towards big double doors. He knocked and was let in.

I held my breath. Sitting there, at the table, was our biggest enemy. The boss of the royal blues.

Stanford Gleeful.