Kidnapped by Of Mice & Men

Chapter 1: The Perfect Storm

I laid in my room, tapping the rhythm of the song I was listening to on my stomach. I closed my eyes and hummed the words.

Wish we could turn back time to the good old days

"Samantha Renee Solfronk, you turn that shit off or I'll commit Hare Krishna!" The voice of my mother screamed.

I rolled my eyes, hitting the power button on my stereo. "That's Hara-kiri, mom!" I yelled back at her.

"That is exactly what I said!" She screamed. I scoffed.

A mother was supposed to be comforting and mine was anything but. She didn't even have the decency to call me Sammie which I preferred much more than Samantha.

Warm rays of summer sun streamed in through the blinds covering my window. Just a few more hours. A few more hours until Warped and it would all be okay. I turned the ticket over in my fingers repeatedly. Mom always told me that if I was trouble she wouldn't let me go, but I knew the threat was empty. They'd do anything to get me out of the house. They hardly paid any attention to me at all.

I failed in comparison to my stepsister Sarah. She was only six, but my mom and stepdad treated her like a princess. We couldn't be more different. Her hair always hung in beautiful blonde curls, while my mousy brown mess was always straight, no matter what I did to it. She always wore dresses, and skirts. Even the pants she wore on occasion were brand new and neat. All of my clothes were ripped and torn hand-me-downs. Even the outfit I planned to wear to Warped was close to falling apart. I didn't mind too much though. The holes let in extra breeze.

I heard a tapping at my window and turned my head, just in time to see a pebble bounce off of it. My heart stopped for a bit, and I hoped to God that it wasn't the man I'd been seeing all day. It seemed as though every time I turned around, he was standing there. A man that I'd never seen before with a stocky build and covered in tattoos. He was a bit shorter, but his spiked up hair added a few inches of height to him. His face was covered in a dark, thick beard.

I looked out my window and saw nothing but the kids next door playing with rocks. I shook my head and walked back to my bed. I sat down on the mattress and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

The sunlight outside began to fade and the noises of the kids playing began to die down. It was only 6:00, but I knew I needed to start getting ready for bed. The day ahead of me started early.

I was just about to change into a pair of pajamas, when the door to my room opened slowly and my stepfather,
Jeremy, walked through.

"It was your turn to wash the dishes." He grunted.

I turned around and faced him, avoiding eye contact the best I could.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I forgot." I shook my head.

Jeremy closed the door and walked over, menacingly. He grabbed my arm and yanked me forward, his face inches from mine. His breath stank of alcohol, but I knew he wasn't drunk. It was just his nature. "It's Jeremy." He moaned.

I nodded. "Sorry...Jeremy." I averted his gaze.

He released me and shook his head. "Christ, why can't you be more like Sarah?" I stared down at my dirty converse. Jeremy picked up a picture frame on my dresser. The only thing that held the picture of my biological father who committed suicide a little after I was born. I had hardly any memory of him, but I still wanted the picture to preserve the little bit I remembered. Jeremy stared at the photo. "Why do you still have this?" I knew he didn't want an answer. In a fraction of a second, Jeremy drew his hand back and hit me with the frame. I fell to the ground, drops of blood falling on my dirty carpet. A few bloody shards of glass hit the ground next to me. I didn't cry or whimper or scream. I just took in deep breaths.

Jeremy kicked the glass closer to my hands. "Clean this up!" He screamed. "Or there'll be no damned Ghost Tour!" He stormed past me and I heard his footsteps as he made his way downstairs.

"Warped Tour." I muttered while I stood up and walked back into the bathroom. A few streams of blood ran down my face and I pressed a wet paper towel to the gash that cut through my eyebrow. I sighed with relief. It wasn't deep enough to need stitches. It'd leave one hell of a scar though.

I tried to fix up the cut the best that I could, successfully stopping the bleeding after several minutes.

I did as I was told and cleaned the broken glass off of the carpet. I tried to scrub the blood away to the best of my ability. It faded to a pale pink color before I gave up.

I changed clothes and brushed my teeth before climbing into bed. I pulled the sheets up to my chest and plugged my headphones into the jack on my phone. I put my playlist on shuffle and fell asleep listening to the sound of Vic Fuentes singing that I would be okay.

Somehow, I knew he was right. But I couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to go south.

•••

Hey guys!

This is my new story that I've been planning for a little while now. Thanks to all of you who gave me suggestions on You're Not Alone and led to the creation of this story!

I hope you all enjoy this as much as I know I'm gonna enjoy writing it!

On every chapter I'll attach a song that correlates to the events taking place and put the lyrics down in the author's note. I couldn't really think of one for this chapter, so I'll just leave it off here. I have attached a photo of Sammie though.

Thanks for reading chapter one and I hope you'll stick around for chapter two! Things will get much more interesting, I promise!

-Gracie